Chapter 39 – The Girl in the White Room
Chapter 39 – The Girl in the White Room
[Aurora]
The private jet sliced through clouds like a blade through silk. Aurora stared out the window, watching Italy shrink beneath them.
She wasn’t ready.
But she was going back to Verona anyway.
Damon sat across from her, reviewing encrypted files on a secured laptop. The tension between them was dense—but different now. Not from hate or betrayal. From the weight of everything they didn’t say.
And everything they were about to uncover.
Aurora cleared her throat. “What if I was one of them?”
Damon paused.
“One of the children in the project,” she said, voice barely audible. “What if I was just another experiment?”
“You’re not a what, Aurora,” Damon said softly. “You’re you. That’s all that matters now.”
She gave a brittle smile. “That’s a lovely line for someone who’s hacked files of my past.”
“Low blow,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Truthful,” she replied.
A beat passed. Then:
“I used to have dreams,” she admitted. “Of a hallway. White walls. A music box. And a woman who kept telling me not to cry.”
Damon looked up. “What did the music box play?”
“I don’t remember,” she said. “But every time I got close to the door, someone would turn off the lights. And then I’d wake up.”
He closed his laptop. “Then let’s find that hallway.”
---
[Verona – outskirts, near an abandoned vineyard]
They arrived at sunset.
The air here was heavier—richer with dust, memory, and something else… resistance.
The estate stood like a forgotten tomb, vines curling around broken windows. It used to be a research center decades ago, before it was supposedly shut down and erased.
But Damon had tracked down the property records. The place was under a shell company tied to the Voss name.
“It looks haunted,” Aurora whispered.
Damon exhaled. “Because it is.”
They pushed open the rusted gates and entered the property.
Half of the interior had collapsed over the years, but Damon led her around the ruins, through a narrow corridor hidden behind a false wall. Every step was muffled by layers of dust.
Finally—they reached a locked door reinforced with steel.
Damon crouched beside the panel and typed in a code. It beeped.
He hesitated before opening it.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Aurora took a breath.
“Open it.”
Inside, fluorescent lights flickered on—faintly powered by a backup generator. The corridor was white. Pristine. Untouched by time.
Aurora gripped the wall for balance.
“This… this is it.”
---
[Meanwhile – Milan, Unknown Location]
Elijah Voss walked into a darkened room lit only by floor lamps and red-coded monitors. The second figure was already there—face obscured, hands gloved, voice modulated.
“I told you he’d return to Verona,” Elijah said.
The figure nodded. “And now the memories will come.”
“You’re sure she’ll remember?”
The figure smiled.
“She doesn’t need to. The building will.”
---
[Verona – Underground Facility]
The corridor stretched into a maze.
Aurora stepped slowly, hand trailing the cold walls. Doors lined the hallway. Some labeled. Others left blank.
“Room 8,” she whispered. “I remember that number.”
Damon tried one of the doors—it groaned open.
The room was sterile. On the far side sat a small white bed. Shelves of broken toys. A two-way mirror shattered long ago.
Then—Aurora gasped.
There, on the wall, drawn in crayon… was a music box. And beneath it, in shaky child handwriting:
“Don’t cry. They’re watching.”
She backed up, bumping into Damon. “I drew this.”
“Then this was your room,” he murmured.
Suddenly, a loud whirring echoed through the corridor.
Emergency lights blinked to red.
“Someone’s activated the lockdown,” Damon said.
They rushed to the exit—but the door they came through slammed shut with a metallic clang.
Aurora looked at him, heart racing. “We’re trapped.”
Damon cursed. “Someone’s watching us.”
---
[Control Room – Above the Basement]
Elijah’s voice crackled over the old speaker system, distorted.
“Hello, Damon.”
Damon froze.
Aurora looked around wildly. “He’s here?”
“Not in person,” Elijah replied. “But oh, I’ve missed this place. Brings back so many memories. Do you remember the little girl who used to sing herself to sleep? I do.”
Damon clenched his fists. “What do you want?”
“To remind you of what you forgot. Of what you buried.”
A screen on the far wall blinked to life.
A video.
A young Aurora—no older than seven—sits on a small bed, humming. A guard enters. She flinches. The man says something, inaudible, and walks toward her.
Then—cut to black.
Aurora’s knees buckled. “No… no no no…”
Damon caught her.
“She doesn’t remember, but I do,” Elijah said. “And soon, the whole world will too.”
The feed cut off.
---
[Verona – Facility Maintenance Corridor]
Damon carried Aurora through a side hallway, heart pounding.
“She’s coming apart,” he muttered to himself.
Aurora stirred. “I… I remember him. He gave me candy. Told me not to tell anyone. Then he locked me in the cold room for hours…”
Damon gritted his teeth. “You don’t have to say it.”
“I need to,” she said, breath catching. “I was alone. No one came. Not even when I screamed. But I always believed someone would.”
Damon stopped.
He looked into her eyes.
“I’m here now.”
Her tears spilled freely.
“You’re late,” she whispered.
He smiled sadly. “I’ll stay this time.”
She reached for his face—and kissed him. Fierce. Fragile. Filled with memory and pain and something stubbornly like love.
---
[Aboveground – Shadow Figure POV]
The gloved figure watched the kiss on the monitor.
Then looked down at a scalpel in hand.
“Elijah plays with fire,” the figure said softly. “But I… I play with endings.”
Behind them, on another screen, a blueprint of Verona’s underground corridors lit up.
A detonation sequence blinked in the corner.
---
[Verona – Final Scene]
Back in the hallway, Damon looked up at the blinking ceiling lights.
“They’re going to blow this place,” he said.
Aurora staggered. “Then let’s burn the past before they do.”
They raced back through the corridor, Damon breaking open sealed drawers, snapping photos of hidden files while alarms blared.
He shoved a flash drive into Aurora’s hand.
“Run. Take the emergency exit. I’ll hold them.”
“You’re not staying here.”
“I’ll catch up,” he lied.
She stared at him—knowing.
Then kissed him again.
Harder this time.
“If you die in this building, I will kill you,” she whispered.
He smirked. “That’s confusing but oddly motivating.”
Aurora bolted down the side tunnel.
Damon turned back, eyes dark.
“Let’s finish this.”