Page 41 of Her Magic Light

But maybe that was just life for a government agent who carried a gun and abducted innocent people off the street. Maybe there wasn’t a whole lot theycouldn’tdo.

“You can.” I countered his words. “Just bring me a few pencils. Let me draw. I need to draw.” I bounced on my toes a little. So much energy thrummed through me.

I imagined him shaking his head. “I can’t,” he repeated. “You haven’t completed your testing with Dr. Anderson yet.”

“Okay.” I drew the word out because nothing about this situation was okay, and I didn’t understand it at all. “And why do chalks or pencils rest on the tests Dr. Anderson decided not to run today?” Because that was accurate, right? The doctor himself had decided not to test me.

This situation wasn’t my fault.

“It’s procedure. Each guest needs to complete check in then testing before they’re categorized and allowed appropriate luxuries.” His voice stayed flat, emotionless.

“Procedure? A-fucking-gain? How married are you to this procedure?”

As I expected, he didn’t reply.

But I was on a roll. “And what if it isn’t a luxury? What if being able to draw is a necessity for me? What if I can’t survive without it?” I didn’t know what made me say that last part, but it didn’t feel false. The energy inside me nudged at my skin like it was looking for a way out of my body. I wanted to control that outlet.

“It’s about danger level.”

“Danger level?” I didn’t bother to keep my voice down. “If you’re worried about the damage I might do with pencils, sweet Jesus, Coop… Just bring me chalk or even finger paints.” How the hell could I be dangerous with pencils? “It’s not like I’m going to hurt anyone or waste my art supplies.”

“He believes you might be dangerous.” The words were wooden. “You need to do the tests.”

I considered what he’d said. “But what if… What if you giving a little bit now makes me more willing to do whatever these tests are? What if it makes me more compliant?”

“I can’t.”

I imagined him shaking his head again, the movement sad, and I nodded my understanding. Maybe he really couldn’t. But whatever the true story, this was the most engagement I’d had from Coop. And maybe if I didn’t push the art supplies right now, he’d be more willing to talk to me again in the future.

And if Coop talked, I’d know things, and I was still gathering the knowledge I needed to wield as power. I needed to know things so I could escape. However long it took.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Fabric rustled in a way that was familiar now as he turned back to the door. His footsteps crossed the room, but I couldn’t see him easily. He didn’t announce his departure, but the lock clicking back into place announced it for him.

Light. I needed more light. I was frantic now. I’d held it in while Coop was around, but craziness gripped me as I combed every inch of my cell, looking for a crack in the wall, a chip or a chink, something where light might penetrate from one of the other cells. I even shimmied under the bed, making myself flat and turning my head, but there was nothing.

Eventually, I exhausted myself and fell asleep curled up in the corner.

* * *

Ijolted awake and sat for a moment. What had woken me? I groaned as I moved and the ache in my neck radiated down my body and up into my head. My arm had fallen asleep, too, and I flexed my fingers as they burned and prickled with the sudden return of blood.

“Meira?”

I jumped as a soft voice nearby spoke my name, but I didn’t respond.

“Meira?”

This time I responded. “Locke? What time is it? Do I need to go somewhere again?” How long had I been asleep? It didn’t feel like it could be morning, but the lack of light all the time was disorienting, and I hadn’t been able to work out the time of day in Dr. Anderson’s office before because the light had been so magnified.

But had I only eaten breakfast? My stomach rumbled in acknowledgement.

“I’ve brought you something.” He pitched his voice at a near whisper as fabric rustled and he set something down on the floor near me. The rustling sound continued, and he set more things on the floor.

“Is it food?” But it didn’t smell like food. “I don’t know when I last ate.”

“I’ll let the kitchen know you were out for tests,” he muttered. “They’ll send something up.”

---