Chapter 17: The Room with No Windows
---
CHAPTER 17: The Room with No Windows
The walls were too close.
Ava pressed her back against one, fingers clawing at the paint, eyes wide, breath shallow. She didn't remember walking in. Only the click of the door behind her. The silence. The dark.
She tried to turn on the light.
It didn't work.
Panic whispered first—then screamed.
Her chest tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing her lungs. She stumbled toward the door, banging into furniture she couldn't see, her pulse loud in her ears.
"Let me out," she gasped. "Let me out—please—"
But no one heard.
And the air felt thinner with every passing second.
Then she saw it.
Or thought she did.
Fire.
Flickering in the corner of her mind—behind her eyelids. Memory or madness, she didn't know. Orange, angry light. Screams. The scent of burning paint.
A child's voice.
Hers.
"It was an accident, I didn't mean to—"
She dropped to her knees, sobbing now. The old guilt, sharp and fresh. The fire. The faces. Eli.
Had he known?
Had he guessed what she was still too afraid to admit even to herself?
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
A voice. Muffled. Urgent.
"Ava?"
Then a bang.
And light.
The door flew open.
Eli stood in the threshold, panting, disoriented. He couldn't see—but he could feel it. The panic. The despair. It hit him like a wave.
He moved toward her, guided by instinct.
His hands found hers.
"Ava—breathe. I'm here."
She clung to him like a lifeline. "Don't let the fire get me," she cried. "Don't let it take me again—"
"There's no fire," he whispered, holding her face. "It's not real. You're safe. You're safe."
Her body shook. "I saw it. I heard it. And there was a little girl. Me—I think. I—I think I started it."
Silence stretched between them.
He froze.
"You remember?" he asked.
"No… not all of it," she said, voice trembling. "Just flashes. The heat. The guilt. Something breaking inside me."
Eli's throat tightened. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to protect himself.
But he didn't.
Instead, he sat beside her on the cold floor and wrapped his arms around her.
"It's not the fire that scares me," Ava whispered into his chest. "It's the possibility that you'll hate me when the truth finally comes out."
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "I'm still here, aren't I?"
They sat in silence, wrapped in pain and memory.
The air no longer suffocated her.
And for the first time, Eli didn't run.
But outside, unnoticed, the windowless room had a crack.
Thin. Jagged.
And on the other side, someone watched.
Still. Waiting.
--