Grace's POV
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When I gained back my consciousness, I couldn't help but feel the same lightheaded feeling. Like the one I had passed out to.

Passed out.

I opened my eyes abruptly. At first, I just saw white. Only white. I gulped, thousands of questions crowding inside my head.

How did I end up here? What place is this? Why was I feeling like this?

That's pretty much when realization hit me.

I had come here with Cynthia. The Research Department. The laboratory. Those fumes. Cynthia.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried sitting up. However, something pulled me back, preventing me from getting up. I arched up my head and looked around. It was a room, a big white room. I could make out the translucent glass walls. There was nothing in the room except for the bed I was laying on.

Almost like a hospital bed.

Except that this was just too white.

I tried sitting up again but something pulled me back. This time, I focused on my hands and tried to move them.

Something was tied around my wrists.

And ankles.

I raised my head and noticed thick leather bands tied around my wrists and ankles, keeping me in place. I rested my head back against the soft bed, tears of frustration clouding over my eyes.

How could I have been so stupid?

"Don't blame yourself, hun." I froze at that voice. Raising my head again, I was surprised to see Cynthia, in the same clothes I had seen her before in. I was in my same clothes too. The clothes I had worn to school today.

I didn't even know what time it was. How long had I been away from my home?

"Let me go!" I glared at her, struggling against the bands tied around my wrists. They were extremely tight and there was practically no way I could've escaped.

"You see," I heard her heels clicking against the polished white floor as she walked over to my left side. "I cannot do that. I cannot let you go."

"Why?" I willed myself to not cry out loud. "Why am I here? You said you'd freaking help me!"

She gave me one of her stupid sympathetic smiles. "How am I supposed to help you, hun?"

I struggled again.

There must be a way. Any way.

"My dad worked with you all. Why would you do this to me?" I asked her. And my voice fell to a pathetic one.

Why was I even asking her that? I should've known this would come to this. It was incredibly stupid of me to trust her. Trusting someone who I didn't even know.

I clenched my fists, sudden fear clawing in my stomach. I had been so desperate to find answers that I had willingly fallen into this trap.

"That was the problem, honey." She nodded. "Your dad was the problem. He had something of ours that he wasn't willing to give us."

The lump in my throat seemed to increase when she mentioned Dad.

"We did get rid of him." She said, pacing few steps away from me, too casually. "But we didn't get that thing; the thing that made us get rid of him in the first place."

I felt my insides constricting at her words. Horribly. "You killed my parents?"

She glanced at me, her face showing impassiveness. And then she nodded. I blinked at that, too surprised for words.

"Not me exactly, but Burner's men. He was furious towards your dad, you know." She spoke up as if she was telling me a freaking bed time story.

They killed my parents.

"You fucking bitch!" I struggled even harder this time. The pain in my wrists seemed to increase at that. But the sudden fear clawing at my insides increased the urge to struggle more.

I should've known. I should've known.

She laughed lightly in amusement. "Now now, Gracie. Those aren't some nice words to say to the one who helped you."

"You didn't help me!" I screamed at her, my head falling back against the bed when a small pain shot up my neck. I didn't even care as pathetic tears fell down my cheeks. "You lied to me."

"But I did help you find out the truth." She looked at me. "Didn't I?"

I went silent at that. Because my wrists really hurt. And the pain in my chest was increasing to a terrifying level.

My parents.

I watched her walk towards the other end of the wide empty room, her heels making that awful clicking sound.

"This would've been easier if your father had been a little considerate." She spoke up. "You know, keeping tabs on you wasn't that easy. It takes so much work to corner someone. Especially someone like...well, you."

I still kept silent at that. I didn't know what to say. I knew that screaming at her won't make a difference. The fear and guilt was overwhelming me. I was scared.

"I'll see you when Mr Burner arrives." She smiled at me before moving over towards the metal doors. Which, when I looked at them, were guarded with locks. "Till then, have some sleep. Things wouldn't be so easy when he arrives, Gracie."

She glanced at me for one last time, triumph shining in her eyes. "But then again, you must be used to it."

•••••

When I opened up my eyes this time, I was highly surprised to sense a presence beside me.

Almost abruptly, I tried sitting up again but groaned in response when the leather ropes held me back.

"I am so sorry this is happening, Grace." It was a man's voice. Definitely not of Cynthia's.

I raised up my head and saw the same familiar man I had seen when Cynthia had been walking me to that laboratory.

"Jonathan." I whispered in recognition.

He was sitting on a chair beside my bed. A chair I hadn't seen here before. The churning in my stomach increased when I registered the huge white room I was in. I wanted to throw up.

He responded with a small smile. The same sad smile he had given me before.

"Please help me." A choked whisper escaped my lips. "Please."

He looked away from my eyes. I gulped when I saw his smile faltering away.

Once again, I found myself wriggling my wrists. This time, however, a sudden burning pain made me stop. I had probably scratched my wrists in the whole process of struggling.

"I cannot do that." He spoke up at last, shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry."

I inhaled deeply, my throat dry out of exhaustion. I needed water.

"You were his friend." I whispered. "How could you do this to him? Why would you—"

"I didn't kill him, Grace." He cut me off. "I don't have anything to do with what happened to him. Or with you right now."

I just looked at him. He dragged his hands across his face, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It was his mistake going against Burner." He seemed regretful. "He knew he'd get in trouble for that. But he still risked his life. His family's life."

I was tired of crying. I wanted to go back home. I wanted my parents. I wanted Jack. I wanted to see Luca.

I closed my eyes shut at that. I hated this feeling.

"Do you know where Jack is?" I opened my eyes and looked at him, dreading the answer.

He stared at me for few silent seconds, his hands pulled together in his lap. "You should've stayed there in Manhattan."

I looked away from him. My arm and legs felt sore. My head still felt numb. I didn't know how long they had been keeping me in here. I needed to think of something; a way to get out of here.

"Please tell me Jack is fine." I spoke up.

He shook his head. "I don't know. They don't let me see him."

The sudden surprise made me look at him again. And I was trying really hard not to look at him, at his sad form. It just made me think that there was no way I could ever escape from here. "He's here?"

"Grace—"

"Please untie these ropes. Please." I looked at him as a dry sob escaped my lips. "Please."

A pained looked crossed over his face. "You can't escape."

"I can." I nodded frantically. "Please, you can help me!"

He shook his head and stood up, backing away as the chair scraped along the floor. "They'd know it was me who helped you. Cynthia would know. I can't do that. I'm sorry."

He genuinely looked scared, not meeting my gaze. I opened my mouth to say something but he was already towards the door now.

As if he couldn't have stood here a second longer.

As if the guilt was just too much.

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Xoxo,
Crystal 🌿