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The thick, steel doors slammed shut the moment Paul hit the ground. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes to look back at where the men were just standing. The men who brought him here, against his will, and trapped him in this cage. They knew about his gift. Paul knew they knew. They just wouldn’t admit it.
Thick, white cloth lined every wall in the small cell. Whether to protect its resident from itself (as They say) or to muffle his screams, Paul wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he had to get out.
Lars was out of breath from running by the time he reached his girlfriend’s house. Reaching an arm out to ring the doorbell, he left his palm against the door frame and hunched over, trying to catch his breath.
He’d dressed quickly after Gem had called to say she had something important to show him and, as a result, was wearing the first pair of jeans he’d seen and a plain, white v-neck shirt. His short, brown hair was messy from just waking up and his eyes were just starting to lose their early-morning glaze.