I ran to the infirmary, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The hallway reeked of antiseptic and blood.
As I turned the corner, my steps faltered.
The doctor was whispering with the supervisor, their voices low and tense. Something about the way they stood—rigid, shielding—made my stomach twist.
Then I saw the curtain.
My hands trembled as I moved toward it, each step heavier than the last. My fingers brushed the fabric. I hesitated—my body begging me not to look—but I pulled it back anyway.
And the breath was knocked from my lungs.
Lilith lay on the bed, barely recognizable.
Her face was a canvas of bruises and bite marks, like something feral had ripped into her. Her right eye was so swollen it looked like it had melted shut. Dried blood crusted at the corner of her mouth, and jagged nail marks raked down her neck—deep, angry lines that screamed of violence.
But I knew better.
Calling them animals would be too kind. Animals don't destroy for pleasure. Animals don't laugh while they break you.
My arms dropped to my sides as I stood frozen.
The world felt far away.
"What are you doing here?" a voice barked.
I didn't turn.
A guard stepped forward and shoved me hard in the chest. "No one's allowed in here. Get out!" he shouted. I stumbled back, dazed—but I still couldn't look away from her.
I didn't blink.
"Did you do it?" I asked, voice low and hollow, eyes still locked on Lilith's broken form.
"What?"
I turned slowly toward the guard. My voice was no louder than before, but sharper—lethal.
"I said—did you do it?"
The guard's expression flickered, just for a second, before settling back into rage. "Are you out of your damn mind? Get out before we make you regret it".
I shoved the guard with a force I didn't know I had and stormed toward the doctor and supervisor, rage and desperation flooding every step.
"What happened to her?" My voice cracked, breath ragged—pleading, but sharp. I already knew. I just needed them to lie. I needed someone to tell me it wasn't what I thought.
The doctor's gaze dropped to the file in his hands, his fingers trembling as he gripped it tighter. The supervisor wouldn't meet my eyes. The silence stretched like a noose.
Then the doctor gave a single, slow nod.
Confirmation.
The world tilted. My knees nearly buckled.
A wave of nausea surged up my throat—I turned and staggered outside, barely making it past the door before collapsing to my hands and knees.
I threw up onto the dirt. Again. Again. Each heave left me choking, emptying nothing but bile and horror. My fingers clawed at the earth like I could hold onto something solid, something real—but there was nothing. Nothing except the bitter acid in my throat and the unbearable weight in my chest.
It wasn't just my stomach turning.
It was something deeper. A violation. A sickness that curled into my soul and screamed that this island would never stop taking. Never stop destroying.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought flickered—cold, sharp, unforgiving:
This won't be forgiven. Not this. If they will forgive. I won't nor will let anyone forgive it.
I wiped the bitter taste from my mouth and stepped out of the infirmary, the wind slapping against my face like a warning. But it wasn't enough to cool the fire that had started inside me.
The air felt heavier today—thicker, crueler. Even the sun looked different. Like it was watching from above, indifferent to what it burned beneath.
If they won't do anything, then I will.
I took a step forward, but voices made me freeze. Men's voices—low, careless, laughing.
I ducked behind a cracked pillar, heart pounding in my ears.
"They're guards," I realized.
One of them groaned, "Why did he do it? Now we've got double duty."
The other snorted. "That bastard can't keep his dick in his pants. Heard he had stellar storage duty last night."
Laughter. Cruel and casual.
"If he was gonna have fun, he could've invited us too," one of them joked.
I slapped a hand over my mouth before the sob could escape.
Laughter. Over a girl's ruin. Over her screams. Over what they did to her body.
Monsters.
Not men—monsters in uniforms. And they weren't afraid. Because no one ever punished them.
But someone will now.
I will.
The laughter of the guards still echoed in my skull as I slipped away from the pillar like a shadow, my hands clenched, nails digging into my skin. I couldn't charge in blindly—not yet. That's what they expected from girls like me. But I wasn't just a girl anymore.
I was a storm waiting to be named.
I headed toward the laundry quarters, where gossip swirled like smoke. No one ever paid attention to the maids—they whispered as they scrubbed blood from sheets and silence from uniforms.
Lily was already inside, folding rags with mechanical precision. Her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw the same fire reflected back.
I knelt beside her and whispered, "Storage duty. Last night. Who was assigned?"
She blinked, her hands stilling. "You're going after him?"
"I'm collecting names," I said. "I need to know who laughed. Who watched. Who let it happen."
She glanced around before speaking under her breath. "Guards rotate duty based on card numbers. If you can get to the schedule list in the back office…"
"...I'll have a name," I finished.
A beat of silence passed.
"That's suicide," she whispered. I looked at her and said,
"Someone has to sacrifice something to survive here".
Lily grabbed my wrist, her fingers trembling.
"Ava, don't be reckless," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You don't understand—they erase people here. They'll make you disappear like you never even breathed in this world. No grave. No name. Nothing." Her eyes shimmered with terror, pleading.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and gently pulled my hand from hers, refusing to let her see my eyes. If she did, she'd see the storm rising in them.
"If I don't do anything," I said quietly, "I'll rot from the inside out. That girl—Lilith—she'll become another ghost in this place, and we'll keep scrubbing blood off walls like nothing happened."
I turned my face toward the window, toward the bars that split the sky like prison bars over God's eyes.
"I'd rather die doing something right... than live knowing I let this go."
Lily didn't say a word. Her silence felt heavier than any chain.
But I knew she would help me no matter what. I needed a plan, this would take time but my main target would be the perpetrator.
The halls were darker than usual. Shadows stretched long and jagged under the dim flickering bulbs. Most of the castle was asleep, the silence only interrupted by distant echoes of dripping water or a tired grunt from a rotating guard. I moved like a ghost—barefoot, careful not to let the floor creak beneath me.
I knew where the supervisors kept the logs—inside the east wing, second floor, behind a locked wooden door that reeked of cigars and authority.
I pressed my ear to the door. Nothing. Slowly, I twisted the handle. Locked.
I reached under the hem of my skirt and pulled out the rusted pin I'd hidden. Lily had once taught me how to unlock doors—it was a skill you never hoped to need but were glad to have.
My hands were slick with sweat as I worked the lock, every second feeling like a gun aimed at my neck.
Click.
The door creaked open.
I slipped inside and closed it behind me. The air smelled like stale paper, ash, and something metallic—blood, maybe. A lamp glowed faintly in the corner, left by some careless hand. The desk was cluttered with files and rosters—weekly schedules, guard rotations, supply sheets.
I flipped through them, fingers trembling. Then I found it.
"STORAGE DUTY: NIGHT SHIFT"
Name: Derek M.
Guard ID: 2467-A
Notes: "Late patrol, 11:00 PM–4:00 AM"
I stared at the name. Derek.
The bile returned to my throat. My hands curled around the edges of the file, knuckles turning white. A sound behind me—a floorboard creaked. I snapped the folder shut, shoved it under my shirt, and ducked behind the desk just as footsteps entered the room.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing myself not to breathe too loud—every inhale felt like a scream in the silence. The beam of a flashlight sliced through the room, sweeping across the cabinets, the desk, the walls. It hovered near me for a moment too long. I thought my heart would give out right then.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was so loud—I swore they could hear it.
Footsteps shuffled, pausing near the desk. I curled tighter behind it, trying to vanish into the shadows. Sweat ran down my back. One wrong move and I'd be dragged away like Lilith. Or worse.
After a few eternal seconds, the beam pulled away.
The door snapped shut with a harsh clang, and the click of the lock echoed like a gunshot.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. My lungs burned. My body was shaking—but I still had the name. Derek M. I mouthed it to myself, as if saying it out loud might curse me.
But I wouldn't forget it. I couldn't.
Because now I had something I never had before.
A name.
I opened the door slowly, inch by inch, until the hinges gave a soft groan. I slipped out like a shadow—silent, breath shallow, feet barely brushing the floor. The night was still, but not quiet. Somewhere in the distance, boots echoed. My heart pounded like a drum against my ribs.
No one in sight.
I moved fast, a blur through the darkness, eyes scanning every corner, every flicker of movement. The adrenaline in my veins made my hands shake, but I didn't slow down. I couldn't. One wrong step and I'd vanish like the others who dared too much.
I spotted the servant quarters. Relief clawed at me.
I ran.
Every step echoed louder in my head. I reached the door of my cabin and yanked it open, slipping inside like the night itself. I shut the door and leaned against it, chest rising and falling, breathless, wild.
I was back.
But I wasn't the same.
Lily stirred, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, but her sleepy haze shattered the moment she saw me.
"Ava?" Her voice cracked, panic blooming across her face. "Where did you go?"
I didn't answer right away. My legs felt like stone, but I forced them to move as I crossed the room and sank onto her bed. My chest rose and fell like I had run through hell itself.
"I did it," I whispered.
She froze.
The silence stretched, until a soft gasp escaped her lips, barely a breath but full of dread.
From under the folds of my skirt, I pulled out the crumpled file and placed it in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she took it, staring like it was poison.
"Derek M.," I said, my voice low, almost numb. "That's the name of the monster."
"What are you going to do?" Lily whispered, her voice barely audible—as if the shadows themselves might carry our words.
I looked at her, my eyes hollow, but burning. "I'm going to make him bleed for every breath he took from her."
"If they want monsters," I whispered, "then I'll give them the kind they'll never sleep through."