traverse down a flight of stairs and he opens the next door, into the dungeon hall.
My breath hitches as I look around, my gut clenching at what I'm witnessing.
This can’t be right.
Dr. Livingstone places his hand on my lower back and guides me gently forward, while I struggle to breathe. My feet move forward on auto-pilot as my mind struggles to make sense of what I’m seeing.
"What the hell is this?" I ask in a whisper.
"What it has always been," he says softly, stopping at the spot my cell has always been. "Your room."
He looks down at me with such pity I want to vomit. "Celeste, what do you see now?"
I suck in my breath and shake my head. "This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense."
"What doesn't make sense?" he asks in a way people ask questions they already know the answers to.
"This wasn't here before," I say, panic clawing at my throat. I work to remain calm but adrenaline pumps through me as I struggle to understand.
I'm not looking at the dirty, drafty cell I've been staying in. Instead, I'm looking at a comfortable bedroom with a plush bed, thick comforter and an adjoining bathroom. There's a dresser, a wash basin, and in the corner trash can, piles of rotting, uneaten food. There's a thick carpet spread under the bed and a chair with neatly folded clothes.
I look behind me to Dean and Declan's room and, through their half-open door, I see a similarly comfortable arrangement.
"Yes, we lock the doors at night to keep you and others safe," Dr. Livingstone says. "But you have been fed regularly since you got here, and you keep throwing the food out. You were given clothing you refused to wear." He tilts my chin to look up at him. "Your mind has been playing tricks on you. That's why you're here."
Tears burn my eyes. "This can't be real."
"How much do you remember of the night you tried to take your life?" he asks.
"All of it," I say, trying not to panic. "I remember all of it."
"I don't think you do," he says. "The reason you're here and not a regular hospital is to protect you."
"From who?" I ask. Fear curls in my gut. If they can do this—if they can make me doubt my own sanity—how much more are they capable of?
"From yourself.”
“But why would I do this? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“The night you tried to kill yourself, you hurt someone with your magic."
"What?" I ask, stepping back from him. "That's not true. That never happened."
"She died, Celeste.” He pauses, studying me. "The woman you hurt died. That's why you're here. Everyone here has taken a life because of their powers. Le Rêve is the only safe place for people like us. For murderers."
8
There’s a loud pop and my door ignites in a flaming inferno. I have no idea how it happens, but I’m too upset to care. As flames lick their way across the door’s surface, Dr. Livingstone calls out for backup. A moment later, three men enter, all wearing scrubs. The first grabs the blanket off my bed and begins swatting the fire to smother it. The other two come straight for me.
The doctor steps back as the orderlies overpower me and force me onto my bed. When one of them produces a syringe, I almost stop struggling. In this moment, I have never felt more helpless.
Dr. Livingstone is a liar. They all are.
Even with fresh sheets and soft carpet, this place is a nightmare.
As the syringe is plunged into my arm and I feel the coldness of the drug racing into my veins, I lock eyes with the doctor and pour every ounce of disgust and fury into my glare.
He doesn’t look away from me.
Regret is etched on his features. And sadness; a loss that seems so deep, I don’t understand how it could be meant for me.
“We’re enemies, you and I. I won’t forget this,” I tell him, the words an oath I make to myself as the drugs begin to lull me.
I stop moving as my limbs turn leaden with the effects of whatever they’ve shot into me.
The orderlies back away, watching me as my lids droop heavier and heavier. The last thing I hear before I’m sucked into oblivion are the whispered words of Estelle who hovers like a specter inside the flames they’re still trying to put out. “No, sister. It’s not him you must defeat. The enemy is inside.”