Episode Eight: silences between screams
1554 Words
Maya didn’t notice when the silence stopped feeling safe.
It used to be comfort—an absence of chaos. But now, silence pressed on her ears like a tight glove, muffling everything except her own pulse. She’d started counting her heartbeats. Not to calm herself… but to make sure they were still hers.
The Vaults had grown quieter over the past two days. The usual creaks and metal groans had gone silent, like the building was holding its breath. She knew Jules felt it too. He was talking less, scribbling more into his notebook, and always watching the corners of the room like he expected them to blink.
Maya stood in the central archive—the coldest room of the Vault. Fluorescent lights buzzed above her head, and decades of boxed-up confessions stared down from the shelves. She could still hear the echoes of the last patient they interviewed. A woman who swore she never screamed during her treatments. But the audio playback told a different story. A long, high-pitched scream—cut off abruptly.
Jules called it audio corruption.
For a split second, the image staring back wasn’t her. It was a woman with pale skin and sunken eyes, wearing the same coat Maya had on. The vision cracked away like splintered glass.
“I saw her,” Maya breathed. “She’s in here.”
“Who?” Jules asked.
“Elara. She’s not gone. She’s… watching.”
Jules looked at her with concern. “You haven’t slept properly in three nights.”
“You think I’m hallucinating?”
“I think the Vault wants you to hallucinate.”
They returned to their workspace. Jules put on his headphones to analyze the tapes. Maya sat, staring at the wall, tracing Elara’s name in the dust on her desk over and over again. The silence was getting louder. A dull pressure in her ears. Like standing underwater.
She turned suddenly.
The audio file Jules was playing showed a silent moment—no waveform movement. But in her head, Maya heard something faint.
A whisper.
“Let me out.”
“Pause it,” she said sharply. Jules took off the headphones. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
She grabbed the headphones and rewound. Again—nothing on the screen. But she heard it again.
“Let me out.”
The voice wasn’t desperate.
It was inviting.
Maya’s hands trembled. Her body knew what her mind was trying to deny—Elara hadn’t left the building. Maybe not her body, but something deeper.
Maya mouthed, “What do you want?”
The reflection mouthed back, “To be heard.”
The lights surged, then burst—glass falling like rain. Darkness took over. And from within it, a hundred whispers rose, all overlapping.
Maya didn’t run.
She stood tall, and said one thing, clear and steady:
“I hear you.”
*
Back in the lab, Jules heard a strange sound on the mic. He leaned in to the console as the monitor sparked briefly. A single phrase repeated in a loop:
“The silence is broken.”
He didn’t notice that Maya was standing behind him, eyes wide open, breathing slow. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded like two people at once:
“It’s time to let them speak.”
And then she smiled.
Just like the woman in the mirror.
Maya stood and said quietly, “I have to go back down.”
“Maya—”
“She’s not done screaming.”
*
The return to 6B was different this time.
No flashlight needed—the corridor lit up as she walked, one light after the other like breadcrumbs into madness. The door to the room was already open. She stepped inside, and the temperature dropped instantly. Breath visible. Heart racing.
The mirror was whole again.
Her reflection smiled before she did.
And then the scream came.
But this time, it didn’t sound external. It echoed through her ribs, up her throat, pushing against her teeth. She wasn’t screaming, but she felt the aftershock as if she had. She dropped to her knees, palms flat against the icy floor.
In her mind’s eye, a sequence unfolded: Elara restrained to the bed, a doctor whispering apologies before administering something thick and dark. Elara’s scream vibrating through her bones. Then silence.
But not peace.
Suppression.
Maya understood now.
The Vault wasn’t haunted.
It was full.
Of things left unsaid. Unheard. Screams never acknowledged. And Elara had become the voice between them all.
Maya stood slowly, her eyes locked on the mirror. The reflection mimicked her movement, but not her expression. The woman inside looked calm. Pleased. Relieved.
She took a breath, and stepped through.
The silence stretched, dense and expectant.
Maya took a step closer to the mirror. Her reflection didn’t. The disconnect sent a fresh shiver down her spine.
“Elara?” she whispered.
The woman in the mirror tilted her head—not Elara. Not entirely. Something else *wore* her face now. Wore it like a mask.
Maya reached out, fingers brushing the glass. It felt warm, almost pulsing. Alive.
And then the voice came—not from the room, not from the mirror, but from *inside* her head.
*“You heard me.”*
Maya flinched, pulling her hand back. “I… I’m listening.”
*“Too late for listening.”*
The light in the hallway died, one bulb at a time, like breath being snuffed out. The door slammed shut behind her.
The mirror rippled.
The glass wasn’t glass anymore—it flowed like water, revealing what lay beyond: a room like 6B, but not. Beds suspended in midair. Mouths open in endless silent screams. A girl pacing in the center—Elara—but younger, hollow-eyed, her arms covered in tally marks.
“Maya.” A whisper from behind.
She turned, heart hammering. The real Elara—older now, or maybe just *realer*—stood there, ghost-pale but solid.
“You opened it,” she said softly.
“I had to.”
Elara nodded. “Then you have to finish it.”
Maya turned back to the mirror. The water-solid glass beckoned.
The world on the other side was thick with sound—*not noise*, but layers of muffled cries, whispers looping on repeat, like a choir trapped beneath water.
Maya staggered forward. Gravity felt altered here, like grief pressing on every step. The beds hung like forgotten thoughts, swaying gently, each with someone—or *something*—trapped beneath thin sheets.
She found Elara again in the center. Younger still. The tally marks now carved deep, some bleeding fresh. Her eyes locked onto Maya’s.
“I didn’t scream for help,” she said. “I screamed *so they’d remember*.”
Maya stepped closer. “And they buried you anyway.”
“No,” Elara said. “They buried *all of us.*”
The mirror behind her pulsed again, now showing images: faces Maya didn’t know, but somehow *recognized*. Nurses. Orderlies. Other patients. All stitched together by a shared silence.
Elara lifted her hand and placed it against Maya’s chest.
“You can carry one scream back,” she said. “But only one. Choose.”
Maya’s voice caught in her throat. “Choose?”
“One truth. One voice. The rest stay.”
Maya turned slowly, scanning the floating beds. Each held a person—a story—mouthing silent things that begged to be known.
One caught her eye.
The world on the other side was thick with sound—*not noise*, but layers of muffled cries, whispers looping on repeat, like a choir trapped beneath water.
Maya staggered forward. Gravity felt altered here, like grief pressing on every step. The beds hung like forgotten thoughts, swaying gently, each with someone—or *something*—trapped beneath thin sheets.
She found Elara again in the center. Younger still. The tally marks now carved deep, some bleeding fresh. Her eyes locked onto Maya’s.
“I didn’t scream for help,” she said. “I screamed *so they’d remember*.”
Maya stepped closer. “And they buried you anyway.”
“No,” Elara said. “They buried *all of us.*”
The mirror behind her pulsed again, now showing images: faces Maya didn’t know, but somehow *recognized*. Nurses. Orderlies. Other patients. All stitched together by a shared silence.
Elara lifted her hand and placed it against Maya’s chest.
“You can carry one scream back,” she said. “But only one. Choose.”
Maya’s voice caught in her throat. “Choose?”
“One truth. One voice. The rest stay.”
Maya turned slowly, scanning the floating beds. Each held a person—a story—mouthing silent things that begged to be known.
One caught her eye.
An elderly man clutching a photo of his family, tears dried into the corners of his eyes. Another—a child no older than ten, his mouth moving fast as if reciting something no one had listened to. Then a girl in restraints, staring directly at Maya as if she’d been waiting for this moment.
Her scream, when it came, didn’t beg.
It *accused.*
Maya stepped toward her. Her body knew what her mind hadn’t yet decided.
She reached out.
And chose.
- Writer
