Without hesitation, Mother's voice crackles through the air, sharp and commanding.

"Back to the floor, my dear roommates. The next challenge is about to begin."

The teens exchange wary glances, their exhaustion palpable. Maddie, still trembling from the previous ordeal, attempts to wipe her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Lynne reaches out gently, placing a hand on Maddie's shoulder, her touch lingering as if trying to transfer some semblance of strength.

"You're okay," Lynne whispers, her voice soft and reassuring. Maddie nods, though her tear-streaked cheeks betray her fragile state. She inhales deeply, her breath shaky, before glancing hesitantly toward the others.

Sam rises first, her jaw set in defiance, her shoulders squared against the invisible weight pressing on them all. She turns to the others, her voice clipped. "Let's get this over with."

One by one, they return to the Gathering Zone. The circular floor feels colder beneath their bare feet, the sterile white walls closing in as if to remind them of their powerlessness. Mother's red lens glows ominously above, the camera's singular gaze cutting through the tense atmosphere, cataloging every flicker of emotion.

"Such obedient little sheep," Mother taunts, her tone laced with mockery. The static in her voice rises, almost like laughter. "It's delightful, really."

Sam's blue eyes narrow, her glare as piercing as steel. "Get on with it."

Mother chuckles, the sound metallic and unnerving, echoing off the stark walls. "Oh, Sam, always so eager. Very well. Today's second challenge is a little game I like to call Fear Trivia."

The words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding. Henry shifts uneasily, adjusting his glasses, his dark eyes darting between his fellow captives. Austin's hazel eyes flicker with unease, his usual bravado muted by the ominous weight of the moment. Maddie hugs her knees to her chest, her small frame trembling as she stares at the glowing red lens.

Mother's voice sharpens, the mockery fading to a tone of chilling authority. "Here's how it works: I'll ask each of you a question based on your deepest fears or most glaring weaknesses. Answer correctly, and you avoid punishment. Refuse, or answer incorrectly, and you'll face consequences designed to confront those very fears."

Lynne's hands clench into fists, her nails digging into her palms as her dark brown eyes blaze with defiance. "You can't just keep doing this to us."

Mother's laughter reverberates through the room, cold and unfeeling, a metallic mockery of human emotion. "Oh, but I can. And I will. After all, the nation demands it."

Sam steps forward, her stance as unyielding as a soldier's. "Enough with the games. Just ask your damn questions."

"Such fire," Mother muses, her tone almost amused. "Very well, Sam. Since you're so eager to play, let's start with you. Here's your question: Who is the only person you've ever truly cared for?"

Sam freezes, her confident facade cracking ever so slightly. The others watch her closely, the tension in the room thick and suffocating.

Mother's voice presses on, mocking and relentless. "You mentioned it before, didn't you? A slip of the tongue. The nation wants to know. Who was it, Sam?"

Sam's hands curl into fists, her knuckles whitening. "I'm not answering that," she says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, Sam," Mother croons, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. "You know the rules. Refusal has its consequences."

Sam tilts her chin upward, defiance flashing in her eyes. "Bring it on."

Mother's lens flares brighter, a glaring red that bathes the room in its menacing glow. "Very well. Step into the punishment room."

A hidden door on the far right wall slides open with a soft hiss, the sound unnervingly final. The teens turn to look, unease etched into their expressions. The doorway reveals a corridor of darkness, a void that seems to breathe malevolence.

Mother's voice oozes smug satisfaction. "The rest of you will wait here. You won't see what happens inside, but don't worry—the nation will."

Sam doesn't hesitate. She strides toward the door, her movements precise and determined. Henry's voice halts her briefly, a tremor of concern breaking through his usual reserve.

"Sam..." He begins, his tone hesitant.

She doesn't turn around. "Save it," she snaps, her voice a shield against vulnerability. Without looking back, she steps into the room, the door sliding shut behind her with a foreboding click.

The room is small and suffocating, its walls pressing inward with an almost tangible weight. Sam's footsteps echo faintly as she approaches the center, where a single metal chair stands like a throne of judgment. She hesitates, then sits, the cold of the chair seeping through her jeans. Her fingers grip the armrests, her knuckles taut with tension. The room plunges into impenetrable darkness.

"What is this?" She demands, her voice steady despite the unease clawing at her insides.

Mother's voice seeps through hidden speakers, a low, mocking cadence that sends chills down her spine. "You should have answered the question, Sam. But no matter. The nation will have their truth."

Suddenly, images flicker to life in the void, each one like a ghostly shard of a memory. A face appears—a raven-haired girl with vibrant, mischievous eyes and a smile that lights up the darkness. She's no older than fourteen, her presence ethereal and haunting. The images flash one after another, each more vivid than the last. Sam's breath catches in her throat, her chest tightening painfully.

"How..." She whispers, her voice breaking. "How did you get these?"

Mother's laughter is cruel, slicing through the darkness. "Oh, Sam. You can't hide from me."

"Screw you!" Sam shouts, her voice raw with anger and grief. Tears sting her eyes, threatening to spill, as the images continue to play. Each one feels like a blade, cutting deeper into wounds she'd thought long buried. Her fists tremble, her nails digging into her palms as she fights to hold herself together.

Mother's voice softens, a mockery of sympathy. "Ten minutes, Sam. Enjoy the memories."

Back in the gathering zone, the remaining teens sit in strained silence, their unease palpable. The faint sound of Sam's shouts filters through the walls, muffled but unmistakable. Henry's hands tremble as he adjusts his glasses, his gaze fixed on the floor, his thoughts a turbulent storm of worry and frustration.

Mother's red lens flares to life again, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Henry, you're next."

He looks up sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Mother replies smoothly, her tone almost casual. "Your question is simple: What's your biggest regret about Ariel?"

Henry's mouth goes dry, his throat constricting as the name echoes in his mind. "How do you know about her?"

Austin turns to him, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Who's Ariel?"

Henry swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "My sister. She's nine."

"Answer the question, Henry," Mother commands, her tone unyielding. "The nation is waiting."

Henry hesitates, his thoughts racing. Finally, he exhales shakily, his voice trembling as he speaks. "She thinks I'm... too busy for her. I spend all my time on the computer or reading comics. I... I should spend more time with her."

Mother's laughter cuts through the air, sharp and derisive. "A poor big brother indeed. Can't even be a friend to your own sister."

Henry's fists clench, his nails biting into his skin, but he stays silent, his guilt weighing heavily on him.

Mother shifts her attention to Lynne, her voice taking on a predatory edge. "Now, Lynne, your turn. Why won't you ever be 'good enough'?"

Lynne stiffens, her breath hitching as the words hit their mark. "I... I don't know."

"That's not an answer," Mother warns, her tone cold. "Try again."

Tears well in Lynne's eyes, spilling over as she finally speaks. "I'm afraid of upsetting my dad and my family. I don't want to disappoint them."

Mother's tone shifts, almost indulgent. "A passable answer. For now."

She pauses, her voice softening mockingly. "Maddie and Austin, you've suffered enough for today. The challenge is over. The nation is satisfied... for now."

Several minutes later, the hidden door slides open, and Sam steps out. Her face is pale, her blue eyes red-rimmed but defiant. Without a word, she heads straight to her room, slamming the door behind her with a finality that echoes through the silent house.

Henry watches her go, his expression troubled and distant. Mother's voice interrupts his thoughts, smooth and taunting. "Rest up, my dear roommates. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

The red light fades, and the room plunges into uneasy silence. Lynne rises, muttering something about taking a shower. Austin returns to the laptop, his fingers flying across the keys as he desperately searches for a message from Serena. He finds nothing.

Henry turns to Maddie, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Are you okay?"

Maddie shrugs, her gaze distant, her voice soft but pointed. "Shouldn't you worry more about Ariel?"

Henry flinches, the words striking home, but he nods slowly. "Maybe you're right."

In her room, Sam curls up on her bed, her body trembling with the weight of unspoken grief. Tears stream down her face, soaking into the fabric of her pillow as she whispers into the darkness, her voice breaking with sorrow.

"I miss you," she murmurs, clutching her pillow tightly, her words a fragile thread of longing. "Brandy."