The atmosphere in the Fear House feels like a powder keg, ready to explode. After the earlier challenge, the teens sit around the dining table, sharing an uneasy dinner. Lynne's mother's favorite Samoan stew, Sapa Sui, fills the air with a fragrant aroma, a stark contrast to the bitter tension that lingers between them. The meal, while intended as a gesture of unity, feels hollow, weighed down by the insults and public humiliation they endured hours ago.

Sam leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning the group. "What is wrong with people?" she asks, her voice sharp. "Who gets off on watching this? Sitting there, like it's some sick game show?"

Austin spears a chunk of noodles with his fork, his expression sour. "They're all a bunch of vultures. Makes me sick. But what can we do? They're eating this up."

Maddie, quiet as ever, shifts in her seat. Her dark eyes flicker with unease, and she hesitates before speaking. "It's not just the audience. It's... it's how they see us. They think we deserve this. And then there's Mother, always messing around?"

Her words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory, though no one directly responds.

"I know, I'm really starting to hate her too, but..." Lynne, sitting beside her, reaches out tentatively. "Have you ever talked to Neil after that...that incident?"

Maddie's shoulders hunch, and she stares at her plate, her fork clinking softly against the ceramic. "I... I wanted to talk to him. I thought we were still friends. But his mom didn't want him around me anymore. She said I was dangerous. The other kids at school..." Her voice falters, and her hands tremble. "They made jokes. Said anyone who wanted to be my friend should wear protective gear. Like I was going to hurt them too."

Her voice breaks, and she pushes her chair back abruptly. "I'm not hungry," she mutters, standing and hurrying toward her room.

Lynne starts to rise, but Sam reaches out, stopping her with a firm hand. "Give her space," Sam says quietly. "She's right about one thing, though. Mother's messing with us, and we can't let her win."

Lynne nods slightly. "We can't let her, but what can we do? It's not like we have any leverage. We don't even know who's running this freak show."

"I might," Henry says, his voice tentative. All eyes turn to him, curiosity and suspicion mingling in their gazes.

Austin leans forward, intrigued about what Henry just said. "What are you talking about? What do you know?"

Henry hesitates, his hands fidgeting nervously. "I've... I've been talking to someone. On the laptop."

Sam's expression hardens. "Who?"

"I don't want to reveal his real name," Henry admits. "He doesn't want me to say too much, in case we're being monitored. But he's been watching this, and he wants to help us."

Austin's laugh is sharp and bitter. "Oh, great. Some anonymous internet hero. Why should we trust him?"

"Because I do," Henry says firmly. His voice, usually soft and hesitant, holds an edge of determination. "And because if we want to get out of here, we need all the help we can get."

Sam studies him, her gaze piercing. "If he's legit, can he do anything to make this place feel... different? Something to remind Mother and everyone else that we're still in control?"

Henry's lips press into a thin line, and he nods slowly. "I'll ask him."

Sam leans back, crossing her arms. "Good. Because we need to remind them who we are."

As the group resumes their meal, the silence is punctuated by the faint, familiar sound of grinding metal. The noise comes from the Forbidden Room, sending a shiver through them all. No one mentions it, pretending it doesn't exist, but the unease lingers long after the meal ends.

***

As it turns to the eleventh day of their captivity, the teens gather in the sterile white space of the Gathering Zone. The air is thick with anticipation, each of them bracing for whatever torment Mother has planned. Sam stands at the center, her presence commanding despite the weight of exhaustion visible in her sharp blue eyes.

"We're in control," She whispers, her voice low but firm.

The others glance at her, their expressions uncertain.

"Say it," She insists.

Henry nods first, his voice soft but steady. "We're in control."

One by one, the others repeat the mantra, their voices gaining strength. "We're in control."

The red lens above them flares to life, bathing the room in an eerie crimson glow. Mother's voice follows, saccharine and mocking. "Oh, how adorable. A little pep talk to keep the morale up. How quaint."

The teens tense, their brief moment of unity shattered.

"Well, my dear roommates," Mother continues, her tone growing colder, "it's time for your next challenge. I call this one... Hurting."

The word lands like a punch, the implications sinking in immediately.

"What the hell does that mean?" Austin vents, his hazel eyes narrowing.

"Oh, Austin," Mother purrs. "Always so fiery. Let me explain. One of you will be chosen to hurt another. Mostly physical. But if you refuse, you'll face a punishment far worse."

A collective gasp ripples through the group.

"You're horrible," Lynne whispers, her voice trembling.

Mother's laugh is sharp and mechanical. "Thank you for the compliment. Now, let's see... Lynne, you're up."

Lynne's face pales, her brown skin taking on an ashen hue. She shakes her head, stepping back instinctively. "No. I won't."

"Oh, but you must," Mother chides. "And the nation has already decided who your target will be. Step forward, Sam."

Sam's jaw tightens, and she steps forward without hesitation, her posture radiating defiance. "Do it." She says, her voice calm and unwavering.

Lynne's eyes widen. "What? No. I can't."

Mother's tone grows icy. "Oh, but you can. And you will. The nation is watching, Lynne. Don't disappoint them."

The others stand frozen, helpless to intervene. Sam meets Lynne's gaze, her voice softening. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Lynne whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. "I can't hurt you."

"You won't," Sam says, her tone steady. "It's not real. It's just another one of her games."

Mother's voice cuts through, sharp and commanding. "Enough stalling. Do it or face the consequences."

The room is thick with tension, the seconds stretching endlessly. Finally, Lynne takes a shaky step forward, her fists trembling at her sides.

"I'm sorry," She whispers in fright, her voice shaky.

"It's okay," Sam repeats, nodding once.

Lynne clenches her fists tighter, tears spilling over as she pulls back her arm. She hesitates for a moment, her face contorted with anguish, before letting the punch fly. The impact is swift and brutal, and Sam crumples to the ground, unconscious.

The room falls into stunned silence, the sound of the punch echoing in their ears. Lynne stares down at Sam's motionless form, her hand trembling as she covers her mouth to stifle a sob.

Mother's laughter fills the room, cold and victorious.