I officially hated the Inner.
The elevator’s descent never seemed to end, my head spinning at the heaviness, the dropping temperature, the putrid taste of plastic and iron, the metallic blend of sweat and blood and chemicals.
The elevator made a clanking, rumbling sound and came to a stop. The doors opened to dark concrete-walls with rows of glass chambers. Not bars like regular cells, but thick panes of plastic and acrylic, similar to the cage Elliot had been in but ten times thicker and bigger to accommodate beds, desks, and a bathroom compartment.
Inside were unmoving individuals in grey inmate clothing, some appearing like regular humans, some unusually blanched, and of those ghostly inmates, some lurked in full volyr form. My stomach coiled tightly, afraid one of them would get t
