Six Feet Under.

chapter fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BREATHE

"And this, Layla, is your room." A man pointed to the door, and Layla found herself looking through the small window on it, quickly taking note that it was an empty room. "All the other rooms have already been filled up, so you'll be alone until we have more space available."

     You'll be alone.

Layla quickly shook her head, "No— no, the boys are my friends. I'm sure I could find some room in there, I'd rather not be alone. We were always together before, so it's really no issue—"

The man sighed, interrupting her. "We can talk about this later." He finalized, beginning to open the door. Layla had a very strong feeling that they wouldn't be talking about it later. She pushed down her anger and unease, and kept her lips shut.

Layla let out a small squeak as the man pushed her into the room, and closed the door behind her. She turned to send a glare through the window, but he had already walked away.

The silence was deafening, and the only noises that she could hear were the sounds that came from the vents. The soft air blowing in sent chills down Layla's spine, but she quickly ignored it as she began to look around.

There were multiple bunk beds lined up against the walls, leaving the middle of the room to be an open space. Layla tilted her head at the sight of a sink between two bunk beds, with a mirror placed above it.

She sighed softly, which bed should I choose. The thought rang bitterly in her mind. She could take any one she wanted.

It was strange how unfamiliar it felt. As she looked at the bunk beds, it reminded her of how... far from home she felt—how far from home she was.

The empty bunk beds felt wrong. Where was the laughter? Where were the people?

Layla realized that she was getting carried away with her thoughts, and frowned as it dawned on her that she had no idea why it was bothering her so much. She had always had her own room back in the Glade, so this should've been no issue.

     Calm down, Layla. Breathe.

She slowly walked forward, and the silence slowly began to grow more unbearable as the seconds passed. Layla let her hands brush over the thin blankets on the bed nearest to her left. They felt rough. The pillow was flat and the blankets were covered in wrinkles, despite the empty room. Had it been used before she arrived? Was everyone from this room now taken to 'the farm'?

Were they safe?

As Layla sat down on one of the lower beds, she cringed internally at the creaking sound that it made—a horrible sound that scratched at her ears, making her hands twitch, nearly going to block out the sound. She breathed slowly, letting her hands rest on the metal bed frame, before she quickly pulled them away at the cold feeling that spread across her fingers.

Layla had never felt so uncomfortable in a space before—and she had been in the Maze, so it was saying a lot.

She slowly pulled her legs into her chest as she shuffled backwards, leaning her back against the wall. The room was filled with the unsettling feeling of dread, and it was thick.

Being alone was one of Layla's least favourite things.

Maybe in her old life, whatever it was, she would say different; but Layla had changed since then. Whether she cared to admit it or not, she was a different person.

She had seen people come and go, known her life was not hers to control as adults in power chose what her next move would be. That was something strangely familiar to her, but it was her lack of memory that ruined her.