The teens stand frozen, their eyes fixed on the giant lens's glowing red light above the large screen. It's a subtle yet unnerving presence, a sharp reminder that they're being watched.

But by who?

Sam feels her skin crawl, her instincts screaming that they're no longer in control of their lives. She glances at the others. Maddie's trembling, clutching her knees to her chest as if to make herself invisible. Henry's eyes dart between the screen and back to the laptop as he tries to get back to it, confused and anxious. Austin, of course, looks pissed, his jaw clenched tightly as he glares at the camera lens.

"Whoever's watching," Austin growls, stepping forward, "you better start talking. Why the hell are we here?"

For a moment, the room remains silent what feel like minutes except for the faint hum of electricity. Sam's pulse quickens. Then, without warning, a voice emerges from the lens's red light. It's smooth and velvety, tinged with a British accent—a woman's voice.

"Ah, my dear roommates..." The voice coos. "Welcome!"

The teens exchange stunned glances. Maddie visibly recoils, her eyes widening in terror. Sam narrows her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady. "Who are you?"

"I..." The voice replies, "am Mother."

Henry's eyes widen stepping away from the laptop and back towards the couch. He whispers, "Mother?"

"Yes, Henry," Mother says, her tone almost amused. "I'm so glad you're quick on the uptake. And before you ask, I am not who you think I am."

Austin crosses his arms, scowling. "Oh, really? Then who are you? And why are you watching us?"

Mother's laugh echoes through the room, a chilling, almost melodic sound. "I am not a person, Austin. I am much more than that."

After hearing her, Henry's face lights with sudden understanding. "You're AI," he breathes.

Mother's tone brightens. "Bravo, Henry! Such a clever boy. Yes, I am an Artificial Intelligence, and this house? It is me. I am the house, and the house is me."

"Bullshit!" Austin spits, his frustration bubbling over. "What kind of AI kidnaps people and traps them in a house? Who made you?"

"Oh, Austin," Mother replies, her voice dripping with condescension. "Let's not underestimate what I am capable of. My creators... let's just say they gave me a very unique skill set. And now, I have sole authority over what happens within these walls."

Sam steps forward, her fists clenched. "Why are we here? What do you want from us?"

Mother's tone shifts, growing softer but no less sinister. "I want you to feel at home, Samantha. After all, you've been through so many houses already, haven't you? This will be your seventh."

Sam's breath catches, a hot wave of anger rushing through her. "You... you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I do," Mother purrs. "And I must say, I'm quite looking forward to seeing how you all... settle in."

Before Sam can respond, the red light blinks off, plunging the room into an uneasy silence. The teens stand there, stunned, each grappling with the surreal horror of their situation. Sam clenches her fists so hard her nails dig into her palms, the sting grounding her in the midst of rising panic.

***

The rest of the day passes in strained silence. The teens drift to different corners of the house, each trying to process what they've learned. Maddie curls up in the couch, her head buried in her arms. Her small frame shudders with every breath, and she's like a ghost in her own skin, pale and withdrawn. Austin stalks off to the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he rummages through the fridge, slamming cabinet doors harder than necessary. Henry parks himself at the small desk, his fingers flying over the laptop keyboard as he tries to uncover anything useful. The screen's glow reflects off his glasses, the faint hum of the device blending into the unsettling quiet of the house. Sam stays where she is, leaning against the wall and watching the others with a mix of suspicion and weariness, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

Her eyes linger on the camera lens above the screen. "She's watching us," Sam mutters, almost to herself. The words taste bitter, like admitting defeat.

Mother's voice returns only at night. As the teens settle into their separate rooms, her calm, measured tone fills the air. "Goodnight, my dear roommates. Don't forget to respond with, 'Yes, Mother.'"

Austin mutters a string of curses under his breath, but Sam grudgingly replies, "Yes, Mother." The others follow suit, their voices reluctant and subdued. Maddie's is barely above a whisper, while Henry's sounds like a robot's monotone mimicry. Satisfied, Mother bids them goodnight, and the house falls into a perturbed quiet, the silence heavy with unspoken fears.

***

Two days pass, each one blending into the next. The teens settle into a tense routine, avoiding one another as much as possible. Maddie spends most of her time curled up in her room, venturing out only when necessary. Her door stays shut, her shadow a fleeting presence in the hallway. Austin takes over the kitchen, experimenting with the abundance of food supplies yet grumbling about the lack of entertainment. He paces like a caged animal, muttering half-formed plans of escape under his breath. Henry becomes obsessed with the laptop, spending hours trying to crack its security systems, his muttered frustrations occasionally breaking the silence. Sam keeps to herself, patrolling the house and searching for any clue that might explain their captivity. She tests the windowless cracks showcasing the artificial lights, knocks on walls for hidden doors, even tries disassembling the couch to check for clues.

Nothing.

Despite their efforts to avoid interaction, the teens are forced to share certain spaces—the single bathroom, the kitchen, and the laptop. Tension simmers in these moments, every glance or word fraught with unspoken accusations and distrust. The giant screen in the central room remains inactive, a silent reminder of their predicament. They've all tried and failed to find their confiscated phones, their frustration growing with each fruitless search. Mother, meanwhile, makes only occasional appearances, her cryptic comments adding to the growing sense of unease. Each time her voice fills the house, it leaves an oppressive weight in its wake, as though she's sucking the air from the room.

On the fourth day, everything changes.

Sam is in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. Henry is still trying to interact with the laptop. Maddie and Austin are both sitting on the couch. Maddie trying to bend her head down, not ready to talk, while Austin has his head lean back, taking a nap. However out of nowhere, a blinding white light engulfs the area. The teens struggling to cover their eyes.

"What's going on?" Sam asks.

"I don't know?!" Henry taking off his eyeglasses, trying to cover his sight.

After a few minutes, the mysterious white light disappears leaving the teens baffled.

Austin wakes up after getting caught in that light. "What the hell was that?" He mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Maddie looks to Sam and then Henry. "Did you guys...do anything?"

"To the lights?!" Sam laughs it off. "You're joking."

Maddie slowly shrugs, and as she looks back to Henry.

"Don't look at me!" Henry's eyes widen, waving his hands. "The laptop doesn't have that power...I think?!"

As the teens are left puzzled by that light, strange new voices echo through the environment. Surprised, Sam, Henry, Maddie, and Austin look and notice two new teens walking carefully out of the hallway. Their expressions a mix of confusion and wariness. The sight of strangers shocks the others, mostly Sam—it's as though the walls of their prison have shifted without warning, letting in the unknown.

The first is an older male teen, tall and wiry with pale skin and messy brown hair. He looks about seventeen, his blue eyes darting around the room like he's expecting an ambush. His hoodie is faded, the sleeves pushed up to reveal thin, freckled arms. His jeans are scuffed and torn at the knees, his sneakers caked in dried mud. He stands stiffly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though bracing for a fight.

The second is a female teen, sixteen or so, with warm brown skin and a confident posture. Her long black hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she's dressed in a fitted tank top and athletic leggings that show off her toned figure. Her expression is wary but calm, her dark eyes scanning the room with careful precision.

The male is the first to speak. "Who are you people?" His voice is sharp, edged with suspicion.

Sam crosses her arms, studying him carefully. "We could ask you the same thing."

"I'm Keith." He says, his voice clipped. "And I'm not staying here any longer than I have to."

The female steps forward, her tone more measured. "I'm Lynne. Look, we don't know what's going on, but maybe we can figure it out together."

Austin snorts from his spot near the couch. "Good luck with that."

Keith's eyes narrow, his posture stiffening. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Before Austin can reply, Lynne steps between them, her voice firm. "Come one guys. Fighting isn't going to help."

Keith and Austin glare at each other but go their separate ways. Keith wanders off, as Austin stares briefly back at Lynne until turning his attention back around.

***

As the teens try to sleep, some of them are somehow reminiscing what happened before they came to this peculiar place.

Henry tries to rest in his bunk bed, laying his eyeglasses down. As his eyes close, he remembers the last thing he did.

After spending several hours on his personal laptop, he hastily put on his wrinkled clothes. His sneakers tapped against the scuffed linoleum floor of his modest apartment. The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner—Ms. Charlie's doing, no doubt. She has always been thorough when watching over the place. His little sister, Ariel, barely nine years old, sited cross-legged on the couch, her focus locked on a tablet screen. Her dark brown hair fallen in messy waves over her round cheeks.

"I'll be back soon," Henry said to Ms. Charlie, his dolefully neighbor who has been keeping an eye on the Wilson children for their overworked mother.

"Can you bring chips?" Ariel asked, not tearing her eyes from the game she was playing.

Henry doesn't look at his sister's direction, basically ignored her as he rushed to the door. Ms. Charlie stepped out from the kitchen, her gray curls bounced with each step. "You heard your sister, Henry?

Henry tried to smile nonchalantly. "Okay, I guess."

His sister pouted as she quickly hopped back on her tablet frustrated, like this has happened a lot.

Ms. Charlie noticed and reminded Henry. "Just make sure you come back."

"Yeah, yeah." Henry gave her a waved motion. He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Once outside, the air bitten with the promise of rain. Henry tightened his jacket around his slim frame, adjusted his glasses as they slip down his nose. His mind drifted as he walked to the corner store. The nagging emptiness in his chest felt heavier today. He'd never say it out loud, but loneliness clawed at him, whispered that his intelligence isolated him. He's a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit anywhere.

***

Maddie shifts in her room, lying in her bunk bed. And suddenly she starts to remember what she did.

She sat on her warm-ambient bedroom floor, her knees drawn to her chest. The walls are bare except for a single framed photo of her and her older sister, Zoe, taken during a summer trip to the lake. She stared at it, her fingers traced the edge of the frame.

Her phone lied face-up beside her, the screen shown the unanswered text she sent her sister.

Maddie: Can we talk? Please, Sis?

She exhaled shakily, the silence in the room pressed down on her. She gripped the rubber band around her wrist, snapped it against her skin repeatedly until the sting distracted her from the ache in her chest.

When her phone buzzed, she snatched it up eagerly, but her face fell when she saw it was just a notification from a news app. Frustrated, she tossed the phone onto her bed and rose to her feet.

Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye. Maddie stared at herself, her pale skin appeared almost translucent under the harsh overhead light. Her long dark hair felt across her shoulders like a tangled curtain. She quickly pulled her hair into a tight bob.

"Pull yourself together." She muttered, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her hoodie, she bolted out the door with her oversized sweater, the urge to escape her own mind driven her into the night.

***

Inside her tight room, shifting around her bunk bed, Lynne begins to reminisce what she did before she was taken.

It was a rough night. She exhaled sharply, her body glistened with sweat as she stood at the barre in the small dance studio. Her reflection glared back at her, the scrutiny from her father's voice still rang in her ears.

"That's not good enough, Lynne!" Mr. Quintrell hollers. "You're supposed to be a Quintrell. Start acting like one!"

Her hands clenched the barre until her knuckles whiten. The ache in her muscles from hours of practice is nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

The sound of her mother's voice from earlier eases into her mind, soft and comforting. "Lynne, let me make your favorite Samoan dish. You need to take care of yourself, sweetheart."

But Lynne had refused, guilt heavy in her stomach. Instead, she'd asked to spend the night at her friend Mara's house. Anything to avoid the suffocating expectations at home.

***

Austin sleeps in his room. His snores not loud enough to disturb the other teens. However, he somehow remembers what he did before he was taken.

It was a time, he paced back and forth in his modern home, his phone pressed to his ear. His letterman jacket was slung over his chair, the embroidered "Moore" on the back mocking him.

"Come on, Serena. Pick up."

The call went to voicemail again. Austin swore under his breath, the frustration bubbled into his voice. "Serena, I—I know I screwed up, okay? I just... I miss you. Call me back."

He tossed his phone onto his bed, ran a hand through his reddish-blonde hair. His hazel eyes caught reflection of his high school football trophies on the shelf, but instead of pride, they only filled him with a hollow ache.

"Mr. Moore." Joan's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The older woman, with her neatly pressed uniform and kind eyes, stands in the doorway. "Your father called. He said he won't be back until next week."

Austin forced a tight smile. "Of course he won't."

Joan hesitated. "If you need to talk—"

"I'm fine," Austin interrupted, grabbing a football from his desk. He heads for the door, pausing only to sling on his jacket. "I'll be at the park."

***

Keith pretends to sleep. His eyes fixed on the cold white ceiling. He thoughts ponder about why he and the others are there. Yet something gets inside his head.

A memory of what was the last thing he did before they took him.

It was a harsh night near an abandoned parking lot. He adjusted the volume on his truck's radio, static crackling before the next song begins. The old pickup, with its peeling paint and mismatched tires, has been his sanctuary since the first time he climbed behind the wheel.

The phone on the passenger seat buzzed, displayed another notification from his conspiracy theory group chat. Keith glanced at it, his lips curled into a smirk.

User1: Watchers are being watched. The government is out to spy on us. Capture us. They are hiding murders, y'all. They did that thirty years ago in a small town not far from Millscove.

Keith picked up his phone. His smirk faded. Millscove has always been his hometown. And he wondered about this other small town. He tried to read more details, unease curled in his stomach. He knew too much to dismiss it as just another wild theory.

A noise outside the truck startled him. He froze, his pulse quickened. Keith's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but the street behind him was empty. The sound came again—a faint scraping, like nails on metal.

"Relax," he muttered to himself. But his hands shook as he reached for the door lock.

***

Sam has yet to close her eyes. She sits up from her bunk bed, not wanting to sleep. As something is trying to get into her mind. A memory. A memory of what she did before she came here. She shakes her head, refusing to think. Fighting to remember whatever is clawing inside her mind for some reason, she races to her door. She opens it to get into the hallway, towards the Central Room.

Yet as she steps out, she hastily gets to the kitchen to grab a glass cup from a cabinet. Once she turns on the sink to allow the flow of freshwater to get into the glass, she leans it to her mouth to drink. Seeking a relief. Not sure what is going on. She pauses when she hears a voice.

"Did you remember?"

Sam turns slowly to notice Keith coming around in an almost stalkerish way.

"What?!" She murmurs.

"So you didn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"Them." Keith smirks. "Whoever brought us here." He steps closer and giving off a weird smile, "They want us to remember."

"Remember what?" Sam asks with a little concern.

Keith smirks again. "To remind us who we were before."

Before Sam can respond and question why, and who are their mysterious hosts, Keith simply turns around and heads out. Sam doesn't know what to say, but she leans near the counter, worrying is there something Keith knows.

It's like he's not sharing. What does he know?