Harper wasn’t exaggerating. The first week was hell.

  I only remember flashes from my six days in E Building.

  I opened my eyes to a darkened room. The only light and sound were the faint glow of monitors with the occasional beep from a misbehaving heart wave. I felt groggy and insatiably thirsty. A cup of water had been left on a bedside tray nearby. I reached for it and drank greedily. Someone had tucked blankets around me and placed a pillow behind my head with care. I was reclined in a bed now.

  A ringing pulsed from deep inside my skull. Waves of pressure and pain throbbed behind my eyes. The paralysis came slowly after that.

  Within hours, my muscles turned heavy and unresponsive. I was only allowed water. Nutrients came through tubes I don’t remember being inserted. At first, I used the bedside commode to relieve myself. Shortly after, Dayna helped me into a gown and apologetically inserted a catheter. A sharp, searing pain sent straight through the center of me. Soon after that, I couldn’t lift my arms. Then my legs. Then my head.

  I was trapped.

  “Dr. Stevens, 12 is failing.”

  I heard an unfamiliar man’s voice say from a distance. The blue light paused behind my eyelids and Dr. Stevens let out a long sigh.

  “What about 10 and 11?” she replied.

  “Stable, for the moment. But if they’re like the others in the broad-spectrum cohorts...”

  “Understood.”

  I heard the whoosh of the automatic door.

  “Ray—”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Every failure is progress. It’s data. We’re getting closer. The genetic profiling will make a difference.”

  The voice was closer now and tender.

  “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  “Tonight then? We’ll talk it over in my quarters. I smuggled in the real wine you like from Napa.”

  “Sure.”

  He sighed, resigned. I heard his footsteps retreat, and the hum of the blue light returned, and I let my mind slip back into the dark.

  Dayna was in and out checking on me over the next five days. I don’t remember if she said anything. With each dose she administered, I would be lost in the dark again, only to awake in immeasurable pain coming from everywhere all at once. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but inside I was clawing at the walls of myself, desperate to escape. Every cell in my body screamed. My mind tried to retreat from the pain, but it demanded my whole focus.

  Silent tears slid down my cheeks.

  Sometimes an older man, between twenty and thirty years my senior, stopped by, tablet in hand. Checking my monitors.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  At one point, Dayna asked him, “Can we lower her dose?”

  “I don’t see why,” he replied, “her reflexes are intact, and her vitals are stable.”

  I know that voice.

  “I think she’s in a lot of pain. She’s having tachycardiac episodes.”

  “She won’t remember it.”

  “I think her conversion would really benefit from increasing her pain relief—to help her tolerate the treatment.”

  “You know that medicine is hard to come by, and we barely have enough for the patients that are failing.”

  “But she’s not like the other patients. She’s alert. She’s awake, Dr. Everly.”

  “Oh, you’re right, that is unusual. Alice, set a reminder for me to review 17′s genetic profile.”

  “Your reminder is set,” Alice chimed.

  “Dr. Everly—the pain management?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Dayna, fine, increase her analgesics, but only up until her last dose.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I couldn’t resist the weight of my eyelids anymore. I surrendered to the dark.

  “Hello, Mia.” Dr. Stevens was sitting on my bed as I slowly gained consciousness. Something had changed.

  The pain is gone.

  The heaviness had lifted too. I lifted my arms slowly at first, regaining the feel of them. Then, I jolted upright in surprise. The tubes had been removed, including the IV. The monitors were off.

  I’m free.

  “Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve entered the recovery phase. Once you’re walking independently, you’ll return to your lodgings. We’ll continue monitoring your progress remotely.”

  “What comes next?” My voice rasped with disuse.

  Dr. Stevens handed me a cup of water. I drank it slowly.

  “This is the part where we watch and wait. If the treatment is successful, then you should be cancer free within the next couple of weeks.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Some patients decline rapidly. Some develop delayed autoimmune reactions. Everyone’s different.” She spoke candidly. “But I’m optimistic. Your numbers are the best I’ve seen post-treatment. Truly.”

  She stood to leave. “Follow your itinerary to optimize recovery. We’ll talk again after your next scan.”

  She was smiling as she left, but it didn’t comfort me.

  It was the same disingenuous smile Derek would give me when his tone shifted mid-sentence after someone whispered in his cochlear implants. It gave me that feeling of knowing someone has information you don’t, like adults pausing a conversation the moment a kid walks in and starts asking questions. Sometimes, you get more information by observing than asking.

  As I was pondering this, Dayna walked in.

  “Hey, Mia! It’s good to see you awake.” I could see she was sincere. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

  “I feel good.”

  “Really? Any nausea or stomach pain?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t even hungry.

  When was the last time I ate? What did I eat...?

  “Amazing!” she said. But there was a question lingering in her tone. “Are you ready to try walking?”

  That wasn’t it.

  “Sure.”

  I smiled briefly and rotated my body to dismount the bed. I stuck the landing.

  Dayna gave me a minute of privacy to change from my hospital gown into my tracksuit and winter coat, before leading me out of the room and down the hall.

  It was still empty. We were the only ones producing any noise down the long corridors. It was a labyrinth. Without the glowing arrows instructing how to move, I’d likely be lost.

  “Well, you passed!” Dayna said excitedly as we made our way to the lobby and exit. “Alice will lead you back to your cabin...”

  She hesitated. I let the silence stretch. She began fidgeting with her hands, clasping and unclasping, shifting her weight.

  I waited.

  “Mia...”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I, uh, just wondered...Well...What was it like? The treatment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t remember?” she said, sounding relieved.

  “All I remember is pain. I just don’t have the words for it.”

  “Oh...” She paused. “I hope it’s worth it.”

  “Thanks. Me too.”

  I gave a small smile and wave and walked as fast as I could through the automatic doors, down the winding path back through the village to my cabin.

  The next time I returned to E building would be too soon.

  My cabin sat quietly on the top of the hill. The sun was already setting, casting amber and gold across the treetops. The calm felt unsettling. The absence of birds. No movement in the trees.

  Stillness like a held breath.

  As I reached for the door, it unlocked automatically.

  Inside, the lights were already on.

  Someone familiar was waiting for me.