Burning Beneath

Sam’s eyes darted between the chair and the figure at the edge of the light.

The word on the screen burned brighter:

“DECIDE.”

The figure’s hand lingered over the lever, unmoving but patient.

Sam’s chest tightened. The hum of the machines grew louder, vibrating under her skin.

She didn’t know what would happen if she sat.
She didn’t know what would happen if she confronted it.

But she knew what would happen if she didn’t choose.

Someone else would choose for her.

Her fists clenched.

She moved.

The cold metal bit into her skin as she slowly lowered herself onto the chair.

The hum stopped.

The room fell into an impossible silence—thick, suffocating.

The shadows receded, pulling away from the walls. The figure didn’t move.

Instead, the machinery roared to life.

The monitors surrounding her flickered rapidly, flashing symbols, fragmented images, faces—her own face, distorted and fractured.

Straps snapped shut around her wrists and ankles.

Panic rose, but it was too late.

A metal band slid into place around her head, wires slithering down like cold fingers pressing against her scalp.

Her vision blurred.

The figure leaned forward, finally stepping into the light.

It wore no mask, no face—just a shifting void, reflecting back her own eyes.

And then a voice—her voice—whispered in her ear:

“Let’s see what you’ve been hiding.”

The machines surged, and Sam was pulled inward.

Into memory.
Into thought.
Into the parts of herself she was never meant to face.