Will We Make It?

Just One Chance

The door latch sits wrong.

Not fully open. Not fully sealed. Just… crooked. Like someone didn’t drag the bolt all the way across. My breath catches when I notice it—because they never make mistakes. Not Mistress. Not Madame. Not Ma’am. And not even Missy, who shakes like a leaf but still follows every instruction like her life depends on it.

But this time?

Something slipped.

I rise from the toilet lid, heart thumping, and hover my fingers over the handle. I expect someone to bang on the door the second I touch it.

No one does.

I ease it open.

The hallway outside yawns long and dim, amber-lit and empty. No silhouettes. No soft humming. No presence pressing at the edges of the air.

For the first time since waking here, I feel something like hope c***k open inside me.

I slip out silently, closing the door behind me without letting it click.

The hallway smells faintly of old stone and something floral—too floral, like flowers rotting in a vase but pretending they’re still fresh. My skin crawls, but fear shoves me forward. I can think about the weirdness later. I can think about everything later.

Right now, I just need to move.

I get almost halfway down the hall before I hear it.

A tiny gasp.

Not loud. Not deliberate. Just… startled.

I freeze.

“Um—um—h-hello?” a small voice squeaks behind me.

No. No, no, no.

I turn slowly.

Missy stands in the bathroom doorway, shaking so hard her fingers flutter. She looks horrified—not at me, but at the open hall.

“Oh no,” she whispers. “Oh, please no, don’t—don’t—please go back inside? Please?”

She wrings her hands so tightly her knuckles blanch.

“I—I didn’t mean to leave it unlocked,” she stammers. “I’m s-so sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t run, they’ll be so mad at me—”

Her fear hits me like a splash of cold water. She isn’t threatening. She isn’t even approaching. If anything, she looks like she wants to curl into a ball and vanish.

For half a second, I almost feel bad for her.

Then I remember the bathroom. The locked door. The welts on my neck. The feeling that something terrible is lying just beneath the surface.

I bolt.

Missy yelps, a tiny, high-pitched squeak, and then—

“Oh no—no—please don’t—wait—please!”

Her footsteps slap frantically against the floor. Not smooth. Not calculated. She’s chasing me, yes, but she’s panicking more than I am.

“Stop! Please! If you get hurt, they’ll punish me—I c-can’t—please!”

I don’t stop. I sprint harder.

Her breath hitches behind me, the sound breaking.

“Please don’t make me do this!”

Something grabs my ankle.

Not expertly. Not confidently. She practically throws herself at me, arms looping clumsily around my legs. We both go down hard. My knees skid across stone, scraping raw.

Missy whimpers from the floor.

Actually whimpers.

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—!”

I try to crawl forward, but she clings tighter—not strong, just desperate, fingers shaking violently as she tries to hold me still.

“Let go!” I shout, kicking back.

One of my heels catches her shoulder, and she squeals—high, scared, wounded. Not angry. Not predatory.

“Please,” she sobs. “Please don’t make this worse—if you fall or run they’ll say I failed, and I can’t fail again, I can’t—”

Again.

The word stabs me.

I twist harder, trying to wrench free. Missy’s breath comes in panicked gasps. She keeps apologizing, over and over, voice cracking.

“I don’t want to hurt you—I swear—I swear—please just stop—please!”

She lunges to grab my arm. Not gracefully. Not cleanly. She slips on the stone, snags my wrist—and her skull smacks into mine with a sickening c***k.

White bursts across my vision.

We both cry out.

I collapse sideways. The world sways violently, my ears ringing. Missy scrambles upright, horrified at what she’s done.

“Oh no—nonononono—please get up—please—oh, they’re going to kill me—please get up, please—”

Her hands flutter uselessly above me, trembling so badly she can’t decide where to touch.

I can barely breathe. Pain pulses through my temple. The hall tilts in strange angles.

Footsteps glide toward us.

Smooth. Slow. Certain.

Missy goes silent instantly.

I don’t see who it is until her shadow pours over both of us—long, elegant, cutting.

Madame.

Missy collapses into a kneel so fast it looks like her bones dissolved. She bows her head to the floor, shoulders trembling violently.

“I’m sorry—I’m s-so sorry—I h-h-had her, but she ran, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear—please don’t be angry, Madame, please—”

Madame lifts Missy’s chin with a single finger.

Every muscle in Missy’s body freezes.

“Hush,” Madame murmurs, voice calm as velvet. “You did well.”

Missy’s eyes instantly fill with tears of relief. Her whole frame sags like she’s been saved from execution.

“You… you’re n-not mad?” she whispers.

Madame smiles—soft, indulgent, terrifying.

“No, my sweet. You stopped her. You protected what’s ours.”

Missy chokes on a sob of gratitude.

Madame strokes her cheek with the back of her knuckles. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Missy folds under the praise, trembling, eyes fluttering shut.

Madame’s hand slips to Missy’s collarbone, then lower—to the tender spot on her neck.

Missy gasps.

The sound is pure devotion. Pure need. Pure relief.

“May I?” Madame asks, voice dropping like warm honey.

Missy nods so quickly she almost knocks her forehead against Madame’s chest.

“Yes—yes, please—please, Madame—”

Madame bends.

I can’t see clearly—my vision keeps going black at the edges—but I hear the sound. Wet. Intimate. A soft latch followed by a shuddering moan Missy tries and fails to swallow.

Her fingers curl against the floor. She trembles like she’s being unmade, unraveling in Madame’s hands.

“Good girl,” Madame whispers against her skin. “So loyal.”

Missy whimpers again—quiet, overwhelmed, drowning in gratitude and fear and something else I can’t name.

My own consciousness slips, dragging me under with it.

The last thing I see is Missy’s face—eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed, expression bliss-struck and terrified all at once—as Madame feeds.

And then everything goes dark.