The bouquet of lilies sat in a vase near the window, their unspoiled petals glowing softly under the pale moonlight. Kelly hadn't touched them since Rowel left the room. She just couldn't cause they felt more like a warning than a gift.
She sat at her desk, her eyes stuck on the floorboard where the flash drive was hidden. Her hands itched to pull it out, to see the truth Vincent claimed it held, but fear kept her frozen; she felt it was a dangerous mood, and If Rowel had known about Vincent, how much else did he know?
And if he knew everything… was he playing with her?
The thoughts only twisted something in her head
Her journal lay open before her, its pages filled with obscure lines and broken thoughts.
... "The man with golden cufflinks smiled like he owned my soul."
"Don't drink the tea. Or the wine."
"The flashbacks are getting worse. Are they real?"
She hadn't remembered writing half of them.
The clock ticked past midnight, the house was quiet and still
Kelly stood and moved toward the bathroom. The mirror was cloudy, her reflection smeared by condensation. She wiped it clean with a cloth slowly.
Trust no one. Not even yourself.
Those words were always there—freshly written each morning. She never remembered doing it. But the pen always lay nearby. The handwriting was hers… and yet, unfamiliar.
She reached up and touched her face.
What if she wasn't who she thought she was?
What if she was the threat?
A softand Deliberate knock echoed suddenly from her balcony doors
She quickly turned as her heart raced.
Vincent again?
But when she slid open the door, no one was there.
Instead, she saw a photograph taped to the glass
She peeled it off carefully; it was ground but clear enough for her mother, standing outside the private clinic. Beside her stood Rowel, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Kelly's blood ran cold looking at the photo
There was no smile on her mother's face but a look of fear.
Why would she never tell me this? Kelly wondered
Before she could process it, the lights fluttered and went out. The entire mansion dropped into darkness.
The silence was deafening.
Kelly stumbled backward, searching for her phone. A low hum buzzed under her feet like some mechanical sound deep under the house.
Her phone screen lit up.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
A long pause. Then, a distorted voice:
"You're running out of time. He's already erased two weeks."
Kelly's heart jumped into her throat. "Who are you? What do you mean by erased?"
The line went dead.
She stared at the screen.
Two weeks?
She raced to the floorboard, widely opened it, and grabbed the flash drive. Her hands trembled as she slid it into her laptop. The files loaded instantly: surveillance clips, Documents, Medical files.
One stood out—"KellyB_Erase_Log.docx"
She clicked.
And froze.
A full log of memory erasure sessions. Times. Dosages. Side effects.
Administered by: Dr. William Cross – Private Consultant for Rowel Don
She scrolled down, bile rising in her throat.
"Subject begins to show resistance. May need heavier doses. Recommend implanting false memory string if resistance continues. Will report to Mr. Don."
Kelly slammed the laptop shut.
False memories?
She backed away, breathing so hard
Then at that point, something else caught her attention.
The lilies.
They were moving.
No, not moving, but dying slowing
She stared in horror as they blackened in the vase like something had poisoned them. Then the vase shattered—glass exploding outward without warning.
She ducked, covering her head from injury
Silence.
She looked up slowly and was stunned
At the door, there was Rowel standing
Unsmiling and standing still
"Kelly," he said softly. "What did I tell you about trusting the wrong people?"
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He took a step inside.
Behind him, the hallway lights fluttered—then burst, one by one.
She backed away until her spine hit the cold wall.
His eyes was so calm that it burned into hers.
"I think it's time we talk about your progress," he whispered.
Rowel moved closely to Kelly giving her a stunned look for a few seconds, said nothing and quietly left the room
Just as soon as Rowel left, she immediately reached out to her laptop, collected the flash drive and hid it
Just as she heaved a sigh of relief, she heard a knock on the door
The knock sent chills down her spine….Could it be Rowel again? She thought
Before she could even reach the door, the individual hurriedly opened the door and reached out to her without hesitation
He reached out to Kelly and dragged her outside straight to the car neatly parked in the surroundings, it was slightly raining outside
Kelly sat in the back seat of Vincent's car, her eyes was glued to the raindrops sliding down the window like falling memories.
The city of Ravenwood looked different through this lens—colder, blurrier, like a dream she wasn't sure she'd wake from.
Vincent kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the glove box. She noticed how often his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
"Are we being followed?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Probably," he muttered. "But we've got a ten-minute lead. Might be enough."
"Might," she echoed.
Her fingers trembled as she clutched the small journal—the one she'd hidden from Rowel. The ink was beginning to fade, but the final line on the last page screamed louder than any memory:
"Do not trust Vincent."
She hadn't told him about it. Not yet, cause she couldn't wrap the whole situation around her head
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To someone who owes me a favor," he replied.
"That doesn't answer my question."
He exhaled through his nose. "Safehouse. One of the few Rowel doesn't know about."
Kelly studied him. "You used to work for him."
"I did."
"And now?"
Vincent met her gaze briefly. "Now I'm trying to undo what I helped build."
She didn't know what to believe. Her memories were a patchwork quilt with unorganized memories filled with missing corners and burned edges.
"Why me?" she asked. "Why not help someone else?"
He didn't respond immediately. The silence was thick with meaning.
"Because you knew too much," he finally said. "And Rowel couldn't kill you for it, so he broke you instead."
Kelly turned away, pressing her forehead to the cool glass.
"But why do I feel like you're only helping me so I can remember something you need?"
He didn't respond to her and there was silence again.
When they reached the safehouse, it was a dim apartment tucked above an old bakery. On reaching to the entrance Vincent handed her a key and let her enter first.
The place smelled like dust and secrecy. She wandered around with a cautious mind scanning the shelves filled with old books and surveillance monitors. Felt a flicker of paranoia sparked in her chest.
"Are there cameras here?" she asked.
"No," Vincent said behind her. "Not for watching, just for warning."
That didn't help.
She sat on the worn-out couch, flipping open the journal again.
One phrase repeated itself on several pages: "Find the Black Room."
Kelly stared at it. "Do you know what the Black Room is?"
Vincent got tensed up slightly. But she caught it.
"No," he said too quickly.
"Liar."
He sighed. "It's a place Rowel uses, for… conditioning."
"Conditioning," she repeated hollowly. "You mean brainwashing."
"Something like that."
She slammed the journal shut. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"You're Kelly B," Vincent said softly. "And you were never supposed to wake up."
Just then, the lights flickered, Kelly felt chill crawled up her spine.
"Power surge?" she asked.
"No," Vincent said, his voice tighter now. "We have to move."
He rushed to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag while was already packed.
Kelly's heartbeat quickened. "You said this place was safe."
"It was."
Her gaze darted around the room. "You led them here."
"No, Kelly," he said, his voice full of urgency. "They were already watching you."
Before she could speak again, a loud knock rattled the door.
Three precise bangs.
Vincent reached for his gun. "That's not Rowel's men."
She stepped back. "Then who is it?"
"Someone worse."
He motioned for her to go out the back, but before she could move, a piece of paper slid under the door.
Vincent grabbed it and unfolded it, jaw clenching.
Kelly peeked over his shoulder.
It read:
"The Black Room remembers. Do you?"
Kelly's vision blurred. The words felt familiar—like déjà vu soaked in dread.
Then came a voice from behind the door.
A woman's.
"You stole from him, Kelly. You forgot the price. But we didn't."
Kelly froze.
The voice… It sounded like her mother.
She turned to Vincent. "That's not possible."
He looked pale. "We have to go. Now."