The sterile walls of the therapy room never felt more suffocating than today. I sat across from Ezekiel, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, eyes fixed on the floor. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the sharp scent of antiseptic—it all felt like an endless loop, just like everything else in this place. There was nothing left for me here, but still, I stayed.
Ezekiel sat there, always so calm, so collected, the perfect picture of the doctor who cared. His eyes met mine from behind the rim of his glasses. A small, calculated smile tugged at his lips, as if he knew something I didn't.
"How are we feeling today, Noah?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost soothing.
I couldn't bring myself to answer. How could I? How could I tell him the thoughts that constantly churned in my head, the anger, the confusion, the desperation to know what had happened? To know why my own memories felt like shards of broken glass, impossible to piece back together?
And then there was the asylum—the way the building itself twisted and changed like some malevolent, living thing. Every time I thought I knew the layout, every time I thought I'd memorized the hallways, something shifted.
A door that didn't exist before. A corridor that seemed to lead to nowhere. The way the guards and nurses would shift positions at the end of their shifts, like the entire system was designed to disorient, to confuse.
I had been lost in that labyrinth for what felt like years. But the more I thought about it, the more it became clear: the asylum wasn't just some prison for the mind—it was a prison for the soul. I wasn't just trapped by my own thoughts; I was trapped by the walls, the very building itself.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts. I couldn't focus on that right now. But they kept coming back, like an echo that wouldn't stop ringing.
Ezekiel broke the silence, as if reading my mind. "I know it's been difficult for you, this whole… situation. But I think you're making progress. You're starting to realize what needs to be done."
I frowned, the edge of my unease gnawing at me. "What needs to be done?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
Ezekiel leaned forward, locking eyes with me. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to peer straight into my soul. "Your family, Noah. They betrayed you. They sent you away without a second thought. How can you ever trust them again?"
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Betrayal. It was all I'd ever known, all I'd been told since I'd woken up here. And yet, there was always something about that story.
Something that didn't quite sit right with me. But I couldn't shake the seed of doubt he'd planted. If he was right, if my family never wanted me to live, then… then maybe I was right to feel angry.
"I'm not sure I can," I muttered under my breath. The words tasted bitter, but they felt like the truth.
Ezekiel's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. And that's why I want to help you, Noah. I know what it feels like to lose someone you care about, to have everything taken from you by people you should have been able to trust."
I narrowed my eyes at him. A strange feeling curled in my gut. "Why are you doing this? Rubbing Salt into wounds." My voice was flat, but there was an underlying suspicion.
For the first time, Ezekiel hesitated. His gaze flickered, and when he finally spoke, there was something different in his tone—something almost… human.
"Because I want my revenge too," he admitted quietly.
I frowned. I hadn't expected that.
Ezekiel exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against the arm of his chair as if he were steadying himself. "Your father, Alaric Solice… He was a business friend of my older brother, Matthias." His voice was softer now, filled with something that almost sounded like grief.
"Matthias was a genius, Noah. Brilliant. A visionary. But your father… he was jealous of that. He betrayed him, ruined his work, dragged his name through the dirt. And in the end… Matthias couldn't take it. He spiraled. He became… lost. And one day, he ended it. Just like that."
I watched him carefully, but there was nothing insincere about his expression. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight. He looked like he had spent years carrying this pain, years letting it fester into something poisonous.
I wanted to say something, but the words never came.
Ezekiel's lips curled into something bitter.
"I want to be honest with you. The reason I was hired into this clinic, Noah… was because I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see if the son of Alaric Solice was just like him. If you were cold. If you were heartless. But you're not." His eyes met mine, dark and knowing. "You're not like them."
A sharp breath left me.
"They abandoned you, Noah. Just like my brother was abandoned. And I know how that feels," Ezekiel continued. "I know the anger. The helplessness. The need to make them understand what they've done."
I clenched my jaw. It was too much. The words, the emotions, the weight of it all. It was suffocating. Because even if a part of me screamed that something was wrong, that none of this made sense—another part of me wanted to believe him.
Wanted to believe that someone finally understood.
Ezekiel leaned in slightly, voice dropping "You don't have to be alone in this. I want to help you, Noah. I want to help you take back what's yours."
He reached into his bag, pulling out a crumpled newspaper. He slid it across the table toward me. My eyes fell on the headline, and my stomach dropped.
"Ivan Solice's return: The heir of the Famous Solice Family returns to the Arcadia Academy in 3 months, after studying abroad for four years."
I could feel the rage rising, threatening to swallow me whole.
Ezekiel noticed. "You see, Noah," he said softly, "this isn't just about your family. It's about power, control. Your brother has always been above you, wasn't he? He has everything, and you have nothing."
I wanted to argue, to tell him that It wasn't like that. But the words caught in my throat.
Ezekiel leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've been hurt, Noah. Your family, the people who should have loved you, they tore you apart. But I can help you get that back. I want to help you make them understand what they've done to you. I will help you escape the clinic, but for that, i need you to do something for me aswell. "
My hands tightened into fists. I hated that I believed him. I hated that I wanted this.
"What do I have to do?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Ezekiel's smile returned, cold and calculating. "All in good time, Noah. But first, you have to understand what you're up against. I'll help you. I'll make sure you never have to feel weak again. You'll have the power to take control of your own life. And then… then you'll make them pay."
And as he left my room, I couldn't tell if I was taking control of my life or if I had just stepped into another trap.