The room they shoved us into was barely bigger than a storage closet.
Concrete walls. A single flickering fluorescent light. No windows. No privacy—just the illusion of it.
I paced.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
My boots scraped against the floor, each step grinding into my nerves. Lila sat on one of the metal chairs, completely detached from the danger around us. Her elbows rested on her knees, hands cupping her cheeks like she was daydreaming in a classroom.
Her face was on fire—an intense, unmistakable blush stretching across her nose and ears.
She looked… happy.
Too happy.
There were no pads. Of course there weren't.
She was never on her cycle.
The lie sat in my throat like broken glass.
A sudden bang rattled the door.
"YOU GOT TEN MINUTES!" a voice barked from the other side. "THEN YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND ARE GETTIN' CHECKED TOO!"
My breath hitched.
Girlfriend.
I stared at the door, heart slamming against my ribs, then snapped my gaze back to Lila.
