I don't realize how much time has passed until someone knocks on my bedroom door. I walk over to it, but I don't open the door. When I realize that there's no peephole to identify who's on the other side, I ask loudly, "Who it it?"

"Who do you think..?!" a deep, impatient male voice replies.

I open the door to see Donovan tapping his foot restlessly. He notices that I'd opened the door and exclaims, "Dude, do you realize how long it's been?"

I shake my head. I grab my room key and slide it into my pocket. "No... What time is it?" I ask as I close my door behind me.

"It's 9:12," he says exasperatedly. "Everyone's waiting for you!"

Suddenly, I see Audrey rush past the two of us to Sophie's room. Raising an eyebrow at the male Sovereign, we step into the elevator. "..Everyone?" I ask sarcastically.

"Well- almost. Sophie was still in her room while you were in your room. Apparently, Audrey decided to listen to Laurel when she suggested that we should bring the two of you down." Donovan scoffs, "I should have guessed that you'd be researching at this time."

I chuckle softly at his remark as we make our way to the conference room. Jacob Grahams was a part of the army, I tell myself. 43 years old. Has the military buzzcut that's required. Both parents are dead: one from cardiac arrest and the other from cerebral hemorrhage. Lost his right arm to a currently unknown injury...

"Good to know," Donovan suddenly remarks, making me realize that I was talking out loud. "But why am I supposed to know that?"

I shake my head as I open the doors to the conference room. "You don't need to know that," I reply as the two of us take our seats. "But I was just reviewing who Jacob Grahams is."

"The brother, right?" I turn around to see Sophie sit down besides me. She then stares at everyone as the other four begin to converse among one another, now silent.

I frown faintly. Then I notice the slight hesitation that flashes across her face. Realization dawns on me and I lean forward, close to her ear. "...You suspect Jacob, don't you?" I whisper, causing her to swivel her head at me, our noses barely touching. I divert my attention from her faint blush and add, "I can see why you doubt him, though. His background would make him the likely suspect." Without waiting for her reply, I sit up straight and pay attention to the conversation in front of me.

The main participants of the conversation are the two Sovereigns. If anything, they're arguing about how Audrey was eavesdropping on us earlier. "I was so quiet! Someone told!"

Donovan snorts from his laughter. "As if, girlie. I heard you while you were getting out of the elevator." He crosses his arms, a smug grin on his face.

"...Sure, Pitts. And here I was thinking that you were brain-dead and deaf. Thanks for clearing that up!" Audrey grin a cheeky smile. "Now I know you're just brain-dead!"

Donovan frowns. Turning to me, he asks, "Who's better at eavesdropping- me or Audrey?" He points at himself and silently mouths, Me, right?

I shake my head. "First of all, you haven't shown me your eavesdropping skills, Donovan."

"And Audrey, you got caught by Donovan," Sophie points out, causing me to laugh. "Remember?"

Laurel nods her head. "So they're both losers!"

Benen snickers at the shocked expressions of the two Sovereigns. "Ha! I guess they are."

Almost on cue, Donovan hold a white-knuckled fist up at the male Altruistic. "Guess again, sonny. I dare you..."

Knowing that one way or another the situation was going to escalate, I hold my hand up. "Stop it, Donovan." I glower at him. "Violence shouldn't be your first resort for stopping something."

He grits his teeth. "But-"

I glare at him one more time, shutting him up.

Sophie then frowns at the to Altruistics. "And you two should know better than to instigate them," she scolds. "Again." She shakes her head.

I glance over to see Donovan frown. "When is the dinner coming?" he asks, crossing his arms impatiently. He opens his mouth to complain more, but a new voice says,

"It's coming out now, so stop complaining, Donovan."

At this, I can't help but smirk at Donovan's appalled face as dinner is served, courtesy of the officer.

...

I sleepily change into the plaid pajama bottom that the officer had provided as nightwear. After brushing my teeth, I remove my bloody bandages and replace them. Once finished, I rub my back, wincing when my fingers glide over my cut. The cut that my father inflicted, I think bitterly. Shaking my head, I pull on the white, collared cotton shirt over my head and trudge over to my bed.

After getting under my bed covers, it only takes a matter of seconds before I've fallen asleep.

...

He holds the thin, thread-like line in his hand, his fingers begging to twirl the string around his fingers. The thin strand glows a faint teal within the darkness.

He tugs softly on the string. His head throbs faintly, as if he was pulling on his own mind's strings. To further test this possibility, he pulls against the string again, harder this time. He feels a stronger pain blossom in the back of his head, similar to the amount of force he was using to pull the string.

Pull it, a voice echoes loudly. Without any hesitation, the boy grips the flimsy cord yet again. Pull it again, but with more force.

But wouldn't he have to suffer if he pulls on the thread, the boy ponders, doubting the newfound voice. He loosens his grip on the thread slightly.

Imagine it as an "experiment", the voice says, louder than before. The boy can almost see the voice frowning. You'll never know until you try. He can almost picture the voice shrugging nonchalantly, as if he's not forcing the boy int pull the thread.

"An experiment," the boy repeats to himself as he grips the thin thread tighter than before. He mentally counts to three, hesitating an extra second on 3.

Then he pulls against the string, almost collapsing from the sudden pain erupting within his mind.

"Again," the voice says as the boy shakes his head, struggling to regain control of his thoughts.

"Why?" the boy asks, not reaching for the string again.

"Because," the voice says. "This is an experiment. And experiments have multiple trials before a conclusion can be made." The voice turns to steel. "Again."

The boy pulls on the string, harder than the previous times. His mind practically blacks out from the pain as he doubles over, still holding onto the cord. A small amount of chills run down the boy's spine, making the cold almost refreshing. He shakes his head, then stands up again. He tightens his hold on the string.

"Again."

When he pulls, the pain is so great that he keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to forcing his mind to open them. A stronger wave of frost washes over him, making him shudder slightly. The boy reaches out to blindly grasp the thread again. And then he pulls again.

More pain, and more waves of cold. The boy shivers, but still carries on, His eyes still closed, he grabs the cord. He doesn't wait for the voice to tell him to pull- he pulls against the teal string as if he wanted to tug the thread.

This time, the boy shivers violently, as if he were standing in a blizzard. His head feels like his mind was ripped away from him, and the empty space within his skull throbs in agony from the lack of a brain. He begrudgingly opens his eyes, wincing from the pain he's facing.

In front of him, the teal strand seems to shoot straight forward, like a laser. The boy curiously begins to reach up to touch the line, but retracts his arm in the end. He doesn't know what happened to the line, and he doesn't want to find out the hard way. As a result, he waits for the voice.

Instead, something freezing collides against his back, sending him forward. A cold current washes over him, causing him to lie against the floor with all of his weight to keep from moving.

When the wave of cold disperses, the boy hesitantly stands up. He looks left and right, even though he's surrounded by darkness. Frowning, he glances up again at the straight teal cord.

Suddenly, a stronger wave of the blizzard-like cold washes over him, practically dragging him as if he were in a river current. After a few minutes of drifting in the invisible current, the boy instinctively plants his feet down on the ground as an attempt to stop moving.

"Go with the current," the voice says, earning a frown from the boy. "The thread will guide you."

The boy looks up. Sure enough, the same teal string he was told to pull earlier now stretched across the darkness in a straight line, almost pointing him where he needs to go.

He shrugs, not knowing what else to do. Swallowing any doubts his mind was thinking of, the boy stops trying to plant his feet onto the ground.

And he's quickly swept away by the cold current.

And this time, the cold was refreshing, like it was before.

...

With goosebumps prickling my skin, I awaken to find myself leaning against the railing of my balcony. I sleepily rub my eyes, yawning softly.

I finally remember how far up I am from the ground, and how close I was to falling over the edge. Now wide awake, I step backwards, leaning my back against the balcony doors. I place a hand over my chest, listening to my rapid heartbeats.

After taking a few deep breaths, I turn around and open the balcony door, gratefully stepping into the warm bedroom. I then turn around and close the balcony door, locking it.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Although I feel wide awake, my eyes instantly begin to weigh more than they should once I get under my bed covers again.

When I finally close my eyes, sleep washes over me like a current. Faint shivers run down my spine, but I listen to the wave of drowsiness- and I fall asleep.