“Are you part of the welcome committee?”

She raises her hands, as if I’m some kind of skittish animal. “Not my thing. I happened to pass by.” A totally normal thing to do in the middle of the night.

“So what’s weird?” I ask.

Grace turns away from me and points toward the blinking red light from a security cam. “You passed at least two different cameras, but no one has come to check on you. Last time I was that naive, I was in solitary before I even made it out of the hallway.”

Oh.

Fear squeezes my throat. Someone could have—should have noticed me. I didn’t even take the cameras into consideration. “I’m not really used to this yet,” I squeak.

She snorts. “I can tell.” There’s an edge to her voice, like she’s tired or has been crying. “But this is not normal.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe the guards are preoccupied. Maybe we should turn around and go back to our rooms before they notice us.

“Long day. Long story.” Grace throws a glance in the direction of the north wing, but then she shakes her head. “Come on, I’ll show you the best way to get to the recreation room unseen. Unless you want to turn around?”

The absurdity of what I’m doing has crept up on me, but I can’t simply turn away. “I think I should get this over with.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Grace says, “you’ll live.”

“Good?” I probably don’t sound very convinced, but Grace doesn’t say anything, and the best option I have is to follow her. She moves with purpose and abandon.

It takes me roughly five minutes to realize that we’re not going straight for the recreation room but taking a long way around. A very long way around. We’re not walking toward the common areas but toward the main guard station.

Unease and fear settle heavy in my stomach.

“Wait. What are you doing?” I hiss.

She gestures for me to be quiet. “Checking on something.”

“Grace…”

“Trust me.”

Before I can do anything else, like stop her, or run away, or tell her I don’t trust her, or try to let the floor swallow me, she pounds on the heavy-duty door.

The loud bangs vibrate through the air around us. I grab Grace by the shoulders, and I yank her back from the door. “What is wrong with you? Are you completely out of your mind? Do you know the trouble we’re in—”

Anger sparks in her eyes, and she slaps my hands away. “Shut up. Listen!”

I close my mouth.

Nothing.

Absolute silence settles around us again, and no one responds to Grace’s racket. Grace’s hands tremble, and her breath is shallow. Her mouth works, but no sound comes out. The door doesn’t open. No response.

I love silence. Silence is what makes music. But this silence is uncomfortable and threatening. “We shouldn’t be—”

“Hush.” Grace does the next unthinkable thing and reaches forward to open the door to the guard station. Usually, it’s one of the doors inside of the Hope Center that is permanently locked. Medium security only goes so far. Not tonight. It creaks when it opens, and the darkness inside practically spills out.