AnnouncementChapter specific content warnings:

  Spoilerblood(?), threat of non-consensual medication, religious trauma

  [colpse]This one's pretty light, by Dorley standards, but it doesn't hurt to be careful.

  2022 May 23Monday“What do you mean, no?” excims Steph furiously. Indira pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a breath before answering.

  “I mean exactly what I said. No. You can’t sponsor a new intake this year. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she continues, brushing aside the red-haired girl’s gre, “this is at least partly your fault anyway.” She sighs, and puts up the first slide of her presentation.

  The New Normal Of Dorley Hall - Working Towards A Sustainable Future!

  “So, the st two years have proceeded more or less as expected. However, given that we can no longer cim to be in crisis mode, it is time to make some refinements to the way we operate as an organisation.” She gnces over at Béatrice, and the older woman nods encouragingly. “First of all, I would like to thank Stephanie for opening up the discussion around this topic. If she hadn’t been so forthright when she first joined us we might have taken much longer to get around to it. And thank you too, Paige, for your advice. I hope you don’t feel you're being put upon too much.”

  The tall, beautiful girl sat next to Christine shakes her head gently and takes her girlfriend’s hand. “Not as long as you hold to your agreements. You know I’m always happy to discuss things, it’s only when we get dragged into the -” she halts momentarily and favours Pippa with a broad smile, “-the ess-show, as it were, that we have a problem.”

  Indira nods. “We do have more robust contingency pns this time around, but we’ll get to that ter in the presentation. Let’s begin with the sponsors, shall we? Addressing Stephanie’s point - each prospective new sponsor must spend a minimum of one year shadowing a current sponsor. By doing so, we should be able to avoid a situation such as Nell’s,” she shoots Nell a sympathetic look at that, “I’m sorry for singling you out here, sweetie, you and Faye are by no means the only example I could give, but yours was the most relevant. Previously, simply experiencing the programme and going through a basic training course was sufficient for anyone who wanted to sponsor a new intake, but we have noticed that whenever we have failed to accurately assess a candidate’s needs to the extent it has caused a problem for the Hall, it has been a first-time sponsor. It is our hope that giving our new staff a chance to observe the environment from a sponsor’s perspective but without the responsibility will improve our situational awareness in the future and,” she adds with a look at the small group of third-years gathered in the corner, “allow them to decide from a more informed position if sponsoring is something they feel able to commit three years to. A prospective sponsor’s suitability will be assessed by a panel of senior staff at the end of that year. Furthermore, each current sponsor must take a minimum of one year off the sponsor rotation after each of their girls has graduated. You all need a break from the intensity of sponsorship. If you should wish to offer assistance in providing cover, though, that would be most welcome. Until we can reach a better level of staffing, we will be operating with slightly smaller intakes to allow for these changes.

  “In addition, we will have a new facility co-ordinator starting with the new intake this year. My little sister, Christine. She and Paige will be living elsewhere - congratutions on finally getting in to the new pce, by the way - but she will have operational oversight for the Hall’s activities. If you want to do something off-book, check with your senior sponsor, which this year will be me, and they will either authorise it or pass it up to her. Final decision rests with Christine.”

  “Not with Aunt Bea?” Steph asks, confused.

  “No, dear Stephanie.” Most heads turn in surprise to stare, some open-mouthed, at the custodian of Dorley Hall. Béatrice regards them each in turn fondly as she speaks. “It is time to allow myself some - how do you girls put it? - me time. I will still be here, at the very least until the new year, but I do intend to take an extended holiday in France at some point. And I will be back to inspect things afterwards, so do not think you can go around doing your memes and such instead of following the programme. Please,” she says as she directs everyone’s attention back to the screen, “do continue, Indira.”

  Indira smiles. More than most, she knows the need Béatrice has for a real holiday. And to spend that holiday with Valérie. She catches Maria’s eyes and Maria nods, almost imperceptibly. “This year, our sponsors will be myself, as senior sponsor, then in no particur order Francesca, Bel, Donna, and Nell. Contingency sponsors are Charlie and Lisa. If anyone wishes to shadow us this year, just let me know and I’ll arrange it. You will not have direct contact with the intake until after the medical, at the very earliest, but observation and security room duty is always avaible.

  “Now, regarding our selection criteria. Originally, we were considering changing the programme to be a two-year course, specifically for girls who know they are girls but are not in a position to do anything about it. However, we felt it was vitally important that we maintain our mission of rehabilitation, so that project, if greenlit, will be undertaken at a separate location. All of our new arrivals here will be either dealing with or suffering from the same failures of toxic masculinity just like any other Dorley intake, but after extensive discussion we think that being more deliberate in our selection will enable us to act in a less, well, coercive manner. Slightly less, at any rate. Stephanie was concerned with the ethics of putting individuals through the programme who did not want to be reassigned in the manner we all were and, as much as we may feel it was for the best in our individual cases, we know this to be one of the primary reasons for the existence of washouts. A reason we could very well eliminate entirely. For my example, I would like to point you towards 2020’s intake. The remaining four are doing quite well, and are on track to move into their third year as happy, retively well-adjusted girls. However, there were two washouts that year. And one of them wasn’t because of the inability to move beyond the toxic patterns of behaviour. Simply put, we chose poorly when it came to Freddie.

  “It wasn’t anyone’s fault in particur, he did meet the standard for selection under our previous guidelines. He was not violent or dangerous to anyone here, and he made significant strides in recognising and correcting his damaging behaviours, but his inability to accept what was happening to him meant that we had no choice but to wash him out or risk the entire cohort failing to actualise on schedule. For any of you who are worried or concerned, I have it on good authority that he is doing quite well these days.” It was a great relief to her to be able to say that and for it to be the complete truth. Diana’s incident had prompted more than one sponsor to be extremely insistent about their continued participation relying on knowing what happened to washouts. It’s not as if they weren’t all perfectly comfortable lying to their intakes already, they certainly didn’t need the threat to be quite so vague for their own benefit. Privately, Indira suspected that if the basementees knew exactly what might happen to them the washout rate would have actually increased. It was quite hard for some of the girls to be entirely normal about the secret forcefemmed assassins.

  “From next year on, we require an additional level of confirmation before adding someone to the programme. We now have the ability to screen potential intakes for a certain degree of gender-questioning behaviour we didn’t have access to before. I realise this implies that some of you may not have been selected under the new criteria - to be perfectly honest with you, I’m not entirely sure if I would have been either - but please bear with us as we fine-tune our approach. I do not expect this to result in a basement full of Stephanies, as adorable as that might be.” Several of the audience chuckle at that, and Steph blushes. “However,” Indira continues, “we do have to draw the line somewhere each year, and this is our benchmark for 2022’s intake. Each of the candidates we have our eye on has engaged with this behaviour to some extent, some more than others, so we believe this year may be the quickest actualisation to date. Yes, even quicker than 2019. No, Stephanie, perhaps not quicker than you specifically, but you never know.” Indira says with a wink, cutting off the other girl as she opened her mouth to speak. “Even if that does turn out to be the case, it’s quite likely that they will need at least as much encouragement as any of us did to fully realise their best selves, so we’re still anticipating following a simir schedule to the usual, if with a degree of flexibility in the case of things like disclosure. It’s also a strong possibility that one or more of them will reach an understanding of their position much sooner than a typical candidate owing to their investigations.

  “I know this is a very, very big change for you all. I promise we are still open to further input so if you have any additional concerns or questions please feel free to discuss them now, and if you think of something ter do not hesitate to speak to one of us about it.” She looks at Paige and breaks into a wide grin. “Just don’t bother Christine out-of-hours.”

  * * *

  2022 October 5Wednesday“What, with all due respect, the absolute fuck, mate?” he says.

  I look at the sloppily dressed guy who just walked into the room. He’s sporting a spectacur bck eye, but otherwise looks exactly as I remember him from a couple weeks ago. I struggle to keep my composure as I try to find a way to deal with this unexpected situation. He’s most used to Performance, so I’ll use that.

  “Oh, hi,” I say, affecting a conic air, “turns out you were right.”

  Chris looks baffled. “What the hell are you talking about? Right? How was I right?”

  “When you said my pn to track that girl down was, and I quote, ‘creepy as all fuck’. You were right. Several other people who run a secret underground prison agreed with you, and now I’m here.” I casually look over at the other two boys and they are staring at me with varying degrees of puzzlement and worry. I choose not to concern myself with that. “What did you do? Something to do with that?” I point at his eye. “Or have you always been secretly half-panda?”

  “I don’t fucking know. Last I remember, I was out clubbing, spotted some new faces and decided to try and hit on them.”

  “Looks like your face was the one that got fucken’ hit, mun,” Rhys interjected from the couch. “Probably ran into some ss’ boyfriend’s fist face-first. That’s the problem with having such a punchable face, just seems to be magnetically attracted to every fist-shaped object in the vicinity. Bet your sponsor has to wear their own cuffs just to stop themselves every time they see you.”

  “Shut up, dickcheese. That wasn’t funny yesterday either.”

  “Wait,” I say, “you were here yesterday?”

  “And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that, and… well, you get the idea. Not that you were conscious for most of it. He met these three yesterday afternoon.” A new speaker comes into view and gives me a friendly wave. “Charlie. I’m responsible for this degenerate here, but I believe you’ve met before.”

  “I… we have, yes?” I carefully look over the new arrival and I’m a little surprised to see someone who isn’t somehow contriving to be simultaneously the pinnacle of femininity and an intimidating as hell kidnapper-ssh-prison guard. She seems to be very much at home in cargo pants and a tactical vest. This pce just gets weirder and weirder every day.

  “Anyway, don’t let me interrupt this long-awaited reunion. Chris, I’ll be over here if you need me.” Charlie says, retreating to the doors to chat with Nell in a low voice.

  I’m reeling, but just about managing to hold it together. It feels like I started a song and got several bars in before realising I was pying a different one to the rest of the band. Chris looks like he has absolutely no idea what is going on, though, and I can only hope my expression isn’t the perfect mirror to that one. I take a moment to look at the others. Kyle is wide-eyed and looking at me with what might be horror. Daniel is suddenly interested in his work, and Rhys…

  “Sh’mae, butt?” he says softly, looking at me with a strangely intent expression. I slip off Performance and don Respectful.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, “it feels kinda weird to just be back here after… that.” It really does. I don’t expect they’ve ever had to deal with someone so destructive before. Clearly they don’t know what else to do with me.

  “Jesus fucken’ Christ on a bike, that’s weird as shit.” He gives an awkward chuckle. “You sound different. To, like, yourself, but ten fucken’ seconds ago. There more’n one of you in there? That why things all went to shit the other day? Listen, no judgement from me if there are, some of my best friends shared a body. Well, two friends and one enemy.”

  Indira and Nell both give a warning cough at the same time, then grin at each other in amusement.

  Maybe I need to be more careful switching masks. “No. Just me. Just my own problems.”

  “Yeah, nah, he seems more or less normal to me.” Chris adds. “About as neurotic as usual. Why? What did I miss?”

  “You… you haven’t told him?” I ask, fearful of what it might mean.

  Indira answers me, and I wish I could be anywhere else but here in this moment. “No, we have not. We felt it would be best to wait until you returned to the group so you could answer any questions yourself.”

  I nod, stunned. This is the st thing I want to have to relive. I don’t know if it will provoke another incident. My control feels like it is fraying. My body sags and, catching my head in my hands, I begin to take deep breaths to try to regain it.

  “However,” Indira continues, “this may not be the ideal time. You haven’t eaten or drunk anything for a long time, and you do need some time to reacclimatise. You can rex in your room for now, I’ll check on you in a bit. We just didn’t want you to go too long without seeing your friends.”

  Daniel snorts derisively at that, and I know exactly how he feels.

  A short while ter, I’m sitting in my room, staring at my desktop and almost clicking on something to start a game. I can’t decide on what, though, so the pointer moves between icons almost like it’s doing ps of the screen. A knock on my door breaks me out of the cycle.

  “Hi, Indira. I’m decent, you can come in.” I call, but the figure that enters isn’t Indira.

  “I asked Bel if I could come and see you.” Kyle says, the excitable squeak gone from his voice for the first time since I met him. Without that, I can tell it’s a high tenor, with a sweet tone that makes me more than a little jealous. I bet he can hit the notes I can only reach in my dreams. “She checked with Indira, and she said yes.” He avoids meeting my eyes as I look at him in surprise. It’s weirdly cute.

  “Thank you.” God, I feel so awkward. I stand and move over to sit on the bed, pulling myself as tightly into the corner as I can. I don’t dare put any of my masks on right now, but I have to protect myself.

  “They’re outside right now. I think you scared them. I know you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I raise my head from my knees and look at him, confused. What? Surely that can’t be right. He’s sitting on the desk chair, but still looking down at the floor rather than at me as he continues.

  “I think… I think you put some things into perspective for me. A lot of things. I think I needed you to. But also…” He trails off, unable or unwilling to put his thoughts into the words needed to continue.

  I bury my head again. Of course. I’d felt we were making a connection, a couple of days ago, but since the incident this was inevitable. “I get it. You don’t feel safe around me anymore. I understand. I really am sorry.”

  “N-n-no. You don’t understand. Like, at all.” I notice his voice take on a slight edge, and I look up to see he’s finally able to meet my eyes, and it seems like he’s almost crying. “Tommy… he was sort of… well, he was right. In a way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  For someone who is already quite small, he somehow manages to convey the impression of becoming even smaller as he answers. “Well, part of it is that I… like boys. You know, like like them.

  "Well, yeah, I’d kinda figured that out just after I met you.” I shake my head ruefully. “No, that’s a lie. Indira expined it to me. I was just a confused mess.”

  “Even so. You were nice about it. You still treated me like the same person you met the day before. But Tommy… he wasn’t. He clocked me instantly, and started on me just for being who I am right away. I saw what he did to you just for being in between him and the door. I’m so afraid that he might do that to me too, and for less reason. Bel says they’ll tase him if it looks like it might happen, but… they didn’t get him until after he’d already hit you.”

  I nod. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. I should have done something. Stood up for you. Walking away to preserve my own feelings was selfish.”

  “I appreciate you saying it,” he says, smiling through the sadness, “but I’m actually gd you were a nice safe distance away when the tasers started popping.”

  I can’t help but return the smile. He’s good at making things seem much less dire. “Indira says they got a special elephant taser for next time. Being far away when they fire that seems like a solid pn.” His giggle in response is infectious and delightful.

  “I’ll remember that. But if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like it if we could stick together especially while Tommy’s around? He’d never try anything that might get your blood up again. I’d feel safer knowing you had my back.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  “Good,” he says with obvious relief as he stands up. “Thank you, Joel. For caring about me. God, you’re so nice to me. If not for what happened I don’t think I’d even have any idea why you were in here.”

  “Um… actually, that’s not why.” I begin to tell my story, the one I’d told a couple of days before, and he sits back down to listen, this time on the end of the bed. To his credit, Kyle pays much more attention than Rhys did. I see him nodding along as he learns more about me than even I knew one week prior.

  “So, you don’t know how to talk to girls,” he says. I bristle in mock outrage, but realise I’ve pyed my hand too early as he continues. “In fact, you’re so shit at it you got abducted and taken to an underground bad boy rehab facility over it. I can recommend other options if you want to explore them. This, for example.” He ughs as he presents himself to me. “You could think of me as a practice girl.”

  “Uh-”

  “And even though what happened the other day was all very scary, I want to be perfectly clear,” his voice lowers and takes on a smoky quality that makes me feel very strange indeed as he leans closer, “thinking about you fighting like that to protect me is really doing it for me.”

  A sharp rap on the door saves me from further embarrassment. Indira pokes her head around the door. “All right. That’s enough. He doesn’t need that right now,” she says with a sharpness that jolts Kyle upright and wide-eyed in a fraction of a second. “Out! Now. Give him some space to process.” She swings the door open wider and I see Bel behind her in the corridor. Bel raises an eyebrow at Kyle, who immediately jumps to his feet and leaves, escorted away from me by his sponsor.

  Indira turns to me, and her voice is tender again. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” she says.

  I know she won’t accept less than the truth. I halt in the act of putting on a mask. “Yes, Indira. I’m okay. Better than I was, honestly. I’d almost convinced myself they all hated me for what happened.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty clear that’s not true. You didn’t actually do anything to them, you know. Not even Tommy, although you gave him quite the fright. The worst they might be able to accuse you of is taking away the slight hope they had that there was still a chance of escape. We don’t normally need the PMCs this early,” she finishes with a giggle.

  “I don’t know what to do about it, though.” I wave my hand in a vague gesture, attempting to convey a general sense of all this shit. “With Kyle. I’m not attracted to guys. Or, at least, I don’t think I am. Sometimes I feel things. Like when I hear him ugh for real, it makes me feel warm and happy. I never felt that before just from hearing someone ugh. I don’t know what it all means.” I say, despairingly.

  She looks at me with a calcuting expression. “Do I ever cause those feelings?”

  Her unfiltered question startles me. “Uh… yes? I think so? It’s a bit different, though. You are so beautiful and so kind I can’t imagine you not causing them, even after you stuck me in here. Honestly, you’re kinda goals.” I pause for a second as my brain stops thinking about whether or not I’m into a boy I just met to catch up with what my stupid fucking mouth is saying. “N-not like that! I just mean it’d be nice if people saw me as someone kind like you, you know? Not as this giant looming threat.” I say, as my shoulders slump in resignation.

  Indira’s eyebrows arch armingly as I speak, but her expression softens into one of deep sympathy. “I understand, sweetheart. It’s quite all right. I think you should be more willing to talk about all,” she winks at me at this point and I die a little inside, “of these feelings, and not just with me. And be sure to listen to what people say back. Being kind starts with caring about other people. You’re already good at that. Stop micromanaging your interactions, be honest with your new friends like you’re learning to be with me. And don’t try to force things. Let people open up to you on their own time.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “And who knows. Maybe you’ll end up just like me, one day. Looking forward to getting home and sinking into the arms of your handsome, gorgeous boyfriend.” She ughs in delight at my dumbfounded expression, proving conclusively that it’s not just boys that can make me feel things with their ugh. “Or perhaps you’ll be coming home to your weird and wonderful girlfriend. Don’t overthink things. Now, I assume you’ll be coming through for dinner in a little while? Why don’t you py something for an hour or so until then? Give yourself some space to decompress.”

  I nod, still a little overwhelmed. She favours me with another dazzling smile, then leaves me to my own devices. I decide to take her advice though. Looking at the desktop, the pointer is over the icon to unch The Sims. Why the hell not. I double click.

  I walk into the dining room two hours ter just as everyone else is finishing their meal. Feeling somewhat conspicuous, I take the first seat avaible. Indira, bless her, is already bringing a bowl of what looks like a vegetable casserole over for me. Kyle smiles warmly at me, Rhys and Chris nod briefly in my direction and return to their conversation. Daniel seems to barely register my presence, giving the lie to my earlier feeling. I’m anxious about how things will go, but I guess there’s nothing for it but to break the ice.

  “Sorry, everyone. I guess I’ve been a bit of a dumbarse, haven’t I?”

  Rhys suddenly sits up, attentive, as I speak. “A bit? You were in such a fucken’ pwdi I didn’t know if you needed a cwtch or a smack. Welcome back, butt. I’m so gd you’re here. This dipshit doesn’t know who the Manics are,” he says, pointing accusingly at Chris, “and I’m this bloody close to killing him.”

  “Take it down a notch,” Nell warns.

  “Don’t worry, I’d make it look like an accident! I’d just push him in front of Joel or something. Bet he wouldn’t even feel it. You can’t give us access to the human embodiment of Truck-kun and not let us take advantage! You won’t let me isekai even one person? Pleeease?”

  “Puppy eyes won’t work on me. I don’t care how adorable you are.” I say. Behind me, Nell starts choking on something.

  * * *

  >RabiaHow’s he doing?

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsNot so greatBut maybe also not so badIt’s manageable, so far

  >RabiaMood swings are a bitch.

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsAt least the others are treating him extremely gently after what happened, which helps

  >RabiaAnyway he’ll probably return to baseline in a few days or soYou should watch out for that

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsThanks for the warninglolSuch a shame, we were already making good progressHe even said i was goals todayand it was all i could do to not just smoosh his adorable little confused face when he realised what he’d done

  >RabiaDira as you are well aware you are goals for pretty much everyone you’ve ever met

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsTruly i have the hardest job of any sponsor ever

  >RabiaWhile I rememberWould you and your delightful boyfriend like to double date with me and Isabel next time he’s over?

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsThat sounds lovely!

  >RabiaIt’d be nice to hang out and that way you won’t both be able to talk shop about your two newbies

  >Lo-fi Indira BeatsI might be tempted to read him in tonight just so we can all talk about how bloody cute the two of them are togetherthe two of them and their little puppy dogomg they’re just like a real family

  >RabiaI don’t know what that means so I showed this to Bel and she says you’re terrible and must be stopped at all costs

  * * *

  2022 October 10MondayI sit on my bed in the early hours of the morning, feeling flushed and hot and shaking. The rest of the week had passed with little drama. I told the others everything I could about the incident from my perspective, but not actually remembering any of it meant that I couldn’t expin myself to anyone’s satisfaction, least of all my own. After our talk in my room, Kyle took every chance he could to sit as close as possible to me. Rhys gave him the occasional sour look, but since he didn’t take it any further I didn’t feel the need to intervene. The casual homophobia from him of all people was unexpected, but maybe I just hadn’t gotten as good a read on him as I’d thought. I mean, he was definitely straight, I don’t think I misread the way he was looking at the model on TV when we were chatting the other day, but I’d expected him to be more - I don’t know - accepting. Maybe I just wanted him to be so that I could have an uncomplicated friend. Seeing him set himself in opposition to the boy I’d promised to look after saddened me. We’d hit it off quickly, finding common ground against our kidnappers, and I missed that feeling. Daniel continued to ignore us all when he had homework to do, and was more or less monosylbic when he didn’t. Especially around Kyle, for some reason that I couldn’t put my finger on. Chris was his usual annoying self, but we had actually been friends since back in high school, and it was the kind of annoyance that stems from knowing each other’s quirks a little too intimately. I had my own space to escape to when he got to be too much, though, so having him there was actually strangely comforting. Eventually, the five of us settled into a regur routine, and mostly didn’t get in each other’s way. I didn’t care about that. It had come as something of a shock to me when the nightmares returned st night. They’d been gone for almost a week, and I hadn’t realised.

  I’m thirteen years old and I just shaved for the first time. Droplets of blood form where I’ve nicked myself with the bdes and, when gravity asserts itself over the tension of the liquid, trickle down my face. My father ughs. It isn’t a warm ugh, as I was led to expect from fathers teaching their sons to shave in television shows. He tells me that before long I will need to do this every single day unless I want to look like an animal. I begin to cry, partly from the pain of the cuts and partly from the idea of coarse brown hairs forcing their way out of my face daily from now until the end of time. He smacks me on the back of the head, not hard, but with the implicit threat that if I don’t stop my nonsense the next time won’t be as gentle. He tells me to be quiet, that he has something he needs to talk to me about, something that happened with my uncle.

  I run my fingers through my unkempt beard, carefully examining it in the mirror without taking in the overall picture. It represents my victory over my father. I prefer to look like an animal than what he wanted me to be. Not just that, either. It was nice to know someone appreciated what they saw when they looked at me. I try not to think too hard about what it meant to me beyond that. As much as I like Kyle, I still don’t feel attracted to him, at least not physically. Indira, on the other hand… God, what wouldn’t I give to have a girlfriend like her? Her boyfriend might be the luckiest guy on the pnet. She’s funny, kind, heart-stoppingly gorgeous and generally seems like she has her shit entirely together. Ok, so she’s a hardened criminal, I’m pretty sure multiple counts of kidnapping are usually considered a big deal outside of weird basement prisons, but I’m definitely still on Team Straight. My brain chooses this precise moment to betray me, adding an unscheduled stop for the Indira train of thought at a memory of the conversation we had st Wednesday.

  “Honestly, you’re kinda goals.”

  My blood freezes. No. Not interrogating that. It’s not allowed. I can’t be weak. I just have to get through one more day. Tomorrow is a different fight. I force myself to ugh. Who doesn’t say things that might be misinterpreted every now and then? Perfectly normal behaviour. I put on headphones and py the loudest music I can find in the library on repeat. Drumming along on my legs settles things in my head, as always. I switch to miming the bassline.

  “Uh… are you okay there?”

  The crackle of the speaker and unexpected voice barely register. I’m fully absorbed in the music, internalising the rhythms and harmonies. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to py this from memory when I get my hands on a bass again.

  The voice tries again. “Joel. Are you okay? Should I fetch someone?”

  It cuts through just enough this time. I let my invisible bass fall to the floor and take off the headphones, looking up at the camera with a mad grin. I brush my hair away from my face. It might be the longest it’s ever been, without my father there to shave it when it got on his nerves too much. “Yeah. No. Why?”

  “Um. You just sat up, visibly trembling, then checked yourself out in the mirror, then started dreamily humming, then burst out ughing at absolutely nothing, then started pying air guitar. At three o’clock in the bloody morning. That, I’m fairly sure, is not normal. Not even by our standards.”

  “It seems pretty normal by mine,” I say, wondering who my mystery watcher could be. Doesn’t sound like any of the sponsors. Or Christine, thankfully. “And I was pying bass. Jesus, it’s almost like people don’t know what air instruments look like anymore.”

  “Okay. I’m revising my assessment. That you’re this awake and able to be a cheeky bitch at this hour is a serious medical issue. I’ll fetch the ketamine.” The voice clearly turns away from the microphone to shout. “Mon! Where do we keep the injection kits?” I don’t hear the response, but the voice returns, a little sulky. “Apparently I’m not allowed to sedate you. Fuck. I was really looking forward to that.”

  Something about the voice is niggling at me. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite pce it. “Have we met before? You sound familiar.”

  “I’m certain we haven’t. I’ve seen you before, though. Me and the girls came to one of your gigs, I think.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Yeah. You, not to put too fine a point on it, were shit. But, like, the good kind of shit. A cssic story of the brand-new uni band just starting out and sounding rough as fuck, but with enough of a hint of talent that you do pretty well for yourselves at student venues. Seen it a million times before,” the voice says smugly, “but we never kidnapped half the band over it any of those times. You must’ve been really bad.”

  “Hey!”

  “Oh, all right. If you need your ego stroked that badly, you were a decent bass pyer. No, really. I even pointed it out to my girlfriend. Maybe you could give her lessons when we’re done with you. Wouldn’t hate having a hot red-headed bassist for a partner.” The voice drifts into a wistful tone. “Mmm, oh yeah babe, your fingering is sooo good...”

  What the fuck is happening? I shake my head as if it would stop the disembodied voice from making obscene noises over the intercom. “Okay. I get the message. I’ll try to go back to sleep.”

  “Good girl.” Sounds of a brief scuffle ensue, and another new voice enters the conversation.

  “Hello, Joel. I’m Monica. Bethany is very sorry for how she behaved. She would tell you herself, but she will not be enjoying intercom privileges for the time being.” Away from the microphone, I hear Monica say in a strained voice, “Beth, I will fucking tase the living shit out of you right fucking here and now if you don’t knock it the fuck off this instant,” then she returns, speaking normally to me. “Is there anything you need to help you sleep? Do you have enough water?”

  “Uh… another bottle of water would be good. Don’t know of anything that helps me sleep except to ride it out. I’ll try again in a half hour or so, don’t worry about me. I’m actually feeling pretty good for this time of the morning compared to the usual.” I say, deciding the truth is my best option here. “And tell Bethany I accept her apology, we’re good.” Neurons are trying to fire. I know there’s something I need to remember, but what?

  “All right then, we’ll just let you do your thing. If anything changes, there’s an ‘Overnight’ contact on Consensus you can ask for help. Anyone on duty can access that. Take it easy, Joel.” A click indicates Monica signing off.

  I try to rex. The water arrives, and I take a sip. I do feel good. That’s strange. Usually when the nightmares come I feel beyond exhausted, entire days wasted trying to recover from the emotional fallout. Something is different, but I have no idea what. I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep immediately, so I might as well use the time to think. I start repying the conversation with Bethany. Something about her sounds really familiar. Her name, maybe? Oh. Oh no. No no no.

  I’m at the bar after the gig. We’re knocking back the beers and people keep coming up to us to gush about the show. I’m scanning the room for the girl I saw during the set and probably not being as polite as I ought to be to our “fans”. Chris the drummer is chattering away in my ear about the Female Freshers? he’s pnning to get to know next semester at the earliest opportunity, he won’t let it go. Sleazy bastard. I tip my head back and drain my pint and when I look back down she’s just there in front of me at the bar. She’s talking to someone, a redhead, gncing back in my direction now and then and wiggling her index and middle fingers suggestively, mimicking bass fingerstyle but with a distinctly alternative meaning. They’re giggling and as I take my turn at the bar to order another drink I hear the redhead tell her it’s time to head back to their dorm.

  “Come on, babe, we need to round up the others. Pippa just texted. The movie’s starting in ten.”

  “Awww, no, we just got drinks! Tell them to wait. Tell them I’ll sic Maria on them. All py and no vodka make Bethany a sulky bitch.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

  It’s her. It’s fucking her. The girl I was trying to find. Not the girl in my dream. She’s real. The walls colpse, and I remember. I was entranced by how she seemed so full of energy, so pyful, so happy. I wanted to be a part of that so badly. I seem to be remembering the encounter so much more clearly now, though. I realise she was with her girlfriend, maybe even the one she mentioned earlier. A wave of envy floods over me at the thought of the redhead ughing and joking with her. I curl myself into the tightest ball of emotion I can manage and cry myself back to sleep.

  In the mirror, the girl with the blood-red hair cries too.

  * * *

  “You do realise that Maria will be reading about this in the overnight report tomorrow, don’t you?” Monica lets out an exhausted breath. Bethany is a lot. And Beth at three a.m. is probably too much for anyone. She pns to recommend some strict limits on how often each supervising sponsor has to endure that.

  “Actually, I completely forgot that was even a thing. Sorry, Monica. Pweeease don’t be mad.” Bethany deploys her cutest expression. Monica simply raises an eyebrow in response. “Okay. Fine. I’m genuinely sorry. Please don’t shoot me. God, I thought when I moved up a couple of floors that would stop being a thing. You’re all too trigger-happy. It must be really, really fun to tase someone.” She pouts, and Monica ughs.

  “Apology accepted. I’m sorry I threatened to tase the living shit out of you.”

  “No, no, you were absolutely right. I probably should have stopped before the fingering joke.” She pauses, a contrite look on her face. “I think that might not have been the real problem, though. I need to remember that our in-jokes don’t apply to the new boys yet. Calling him a good girl was probably a step too far.”

  “Just because you clearly deserved it doesn’t mean it was okay,” Monica says with a little chuckle. “And yes,” she taps her temple with a finger, “if you’re going to do this - be a sponsor - properly, you need to think before you speak. You can’t go in all stream-of-consciousness on day one. That’s how you slip up. If your chaotic little goblin brain can manage to hold on to one scrap of information after tonight, hold on to this. Just because all the boys in the basement this year have given at least some thought to the idea of being women already, it doesn’t mean they’re all ready to accept it. Look.”

  Bethany follows Monica’s finger to the camera feed from Joel’s room. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand as she sees him curled up tightly in the foetal position, trembling as he cries.

  “Did I… was that… because of what I said?” For a second, her thoughts turn once more to leaving, to getting out of Dorley altogether, to any other possible existence. To living a quiet life, to starting a family with Steph. But she remembers why they eventually decided to stay, for a time. Why her girlfriend fought to change things. Getting hers and getting the hell out isn’t Steph’s style. God, she loves her so much.

  “Who knows? But the point is this. If you’re careful, and you manage all your interactions smartly, you can know what it wasn’t. It certainly wasn’t because I called him a cheeky bitch, because we don’t do shit like that until we get to know them better.”

  “Dira does, though. She practically tells him on a daily basis the exact same thing I did. That he’s- how the hell does she get away with it?”

  “One, Indira has been doing this for a very long time. Two, she’s a bloody magical girl with amazing forcefemming powers. That World’s Best Kidnapper mug is hers for a reason. And three,” Monica looks intently at Bethany, “she never, ever explicitly says anything actionable. You should pay much closer attention to her and what she actually says. In fact you, of all people, should know this better than most, since she was your sponsor for a couple of months.”

  Bethany shudders. Indira’s tender care had been harder for her to take than Maria at her coldest. She feels sorry for Joel, knowing that he has three years of it still to come.

  * * *

  “Bore da boyo! Rise and shine, my sleeping beauty!”

  The enthusiastic knock on my door, along with the unmistakable tones of my next-door neighbour, rouses me from a dream where Indira was telling me how proud she was of me for being such a good girl. Fucking weird. Maybe they put drugs or something in the water to send me off to sleep?

  “It’s morning already?” I struggle out of bed and throw on yesterday’s clothes. Showering can wait. I open the door and walk out of my room - straight into Rhys as he attempts to enter at the same time.

  “Ow! Fuck!” He stumbles back and I stop, embarrassed. “Yes! I got out! Thank you, Truck-kun! Hahaha! Oh. Wait a second. Why is the magical world the same as the horrible concrete basement I was just run over in? How is my bestie stuck here with me too? Could it be? Could I have been misled by anime all this time? No! Clearly the basement in this world has a dimensional mirror in the other!”

  “You are a deeply disturbed individual, you know that?” I say, shaking my head at Rhys as he continues to specute about the anime fantasy world he might have just arrived in, making less and less sense as he goes on. “Come on. Let’s see if they have breakfast in this alternate world.”

  “Now you’re talking.” He starts off down the corridor at a brisk pace. “It’s got to be better than the Weetabix.”

  “I don’t kn-”

  “Yes, yes I know! You can’t understand why we don’t like it because you’re a fucken’ weirdo who likes eating fake pretend food like some sort of alien that doesn’t understand that food is supposed to taste nice. We get it. I promise we get it. Hey, why are you being so grumpy and boring today anyway? I didn’t disturb you during your, uh, personal time, did I?”

  “No!”

  “Well then. Don’t be in such a mood. Jesus, anyone would think it was your fucken’ time of the month or something,” he says as we enter the common room and take a seat at one of the tables.

  “Sorry. I swear I’m not normally like this. Just feeling off this morning, like they’re putting something in the water to mess with me.”

  “What?!”

  The excmation startles me. I hadn’t noticed Daniel, slouched as he was on one of the sofas. The two of us turn to look at him, then at each other, confused. He pulls himself up and hurries across the room to sit at our table. Gncing around to make sure the sponsors aren’t actively taking an interest in his behaviour - oh right, the sponsors. Man, I’m so out of it today. Those sleeping drugs are kicking my arse - he leans over to us conspiratorially.

  “What meds have they got you on, man?” he whispers, struggling to control himself, to keep his voice from carrying.

  “Uh, nothing that I know of. After st night I suspect that they’ve been sending me sleeping drugs in my night-time water bottle. Other than that…” I trail off with a shrug.

  Daniel looks exasperated, and hisses “Have you figured out what’s in the impnt yet?”

  “The… what?” A rising sense of horror threatens to overwhelm me.

  “The impnt, you stupid fucker! The lump in your belly? Slow release medication. They give them to cancer patients and shit.”

  Not a bug bite. Something stirs in my memory, st year’s module on biomedical engineering. Polymer-based dispersal devices designed to release a steady dose of a drug while bypassing the usual barriers associated with other forms of delivery. I take a deep breath, and I imagine I can feel it shift inside me.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yeah, now you get it.” Daniel mutters, bitterly. “We’re fucking guinea pigs for these people. Like, are we all gonna have a psychotic break like you when that dose hits?”

  “I… don’t think so. That was definitely a me thing, as much as I hate it.” I sigh. “Besides, drug-eluting polymer impnts don’t work that way. Outside of science-fiction, at least.”

  “Whoa there, butt. Hold up. A drug a-whattin’ thingy? You didn’t know we even had impnts until one minute ago and suddenly you’re a fucken’ expert?” Rhys interrupts, armed.

  “Biomedical science undergrad.” I say, spreading my hands apologetically. “Not an expert. I failed the second year due to missing most of my lectures and all my exams and was about to repeat when I ended up here. One of my modules st year was all about this sort of stuff. I would’ve said something sooner, but I, uh, thought it was something else.” I’m not about to admit what I thought it was. I need to retain some scraps of credibility here.

  “So… what’s in them?” They both look at me eagerly, my new-discovered knowledge now crucial to their survival.

  “That’s the problem. Could be almost anything. Could be painkiller, could be chemo, could be an anti-infmmatory, could be GnRH-a, could be… Fuck. They might be growing extra bones in there.”

  “Oh hell nah. I don’t want any extra fucken’ bones growing in my tummy, mun.”

  “Your… I’m sorry, what did you call it?” I can’t help but ugh at his weirdly cute way of referring to his stomach.

  “It’s a perfectly fucken’ cromulent word, arsehole.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you two! Stop bitching at each other like my sisters and start thinking. Out of that list, what is there that might make you have fucking mood swings like you’re on your fucking period?”

  His comment pulls us both up short. Eyes widening as we look at each other, I rack my brain trying to think about what the possible effects of each medication might be. It’s hard work. I’d only had the most basic grounding in pharmacology - my first-year modules were more generalised. And I’d missed most of the second year.

  “Possibly the chemo?” I venture. “Or maybe… nah, that wouldn’t do it. Not to men, not on its own.”

  “What? What wouldn’t?” Daniel’s voice takes on a pleading tone. “Come on, man. Just tell us.”

  “Yeah, butt. Even if it’s stupid so we can have a good ugh instead of panicking.”

  I bite my lip nervously, and Rhys looks away. “A GnRH agonist wouldn’t do that by itself. But used as part of hormone therapy…”

  The two boys sitting at the table look ashen.

  “It neutralises hormone production by itself. But it won’t do anything to whatever you add on top. Oh, shit, what if they’re putting that in my water?” I’m on the edge of full-blown panic now. I look around frantically, but the sponsors are just rexing over by the dumbwaiter, taking turns to sip coffee or tea or whatever while the others keep an eye on us. Indira is pying on her phone with a dreamy smile on her face. Probably her and her boyfriend having an argument about who loves the other more. God, it’s so unfair. The utter ck of concern annoys me. “Wait here,” I say to my fellow prisoners, “I’ll go see what they have to say about it.”

  I rise from my seat and, yep, that got their attention. All the sponsors are at the ready now, weapons pointed in my direction as I approach. All except Indira, that is. She just pockets her phone casually and beams at me. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I hope you managed to get some rest after your little midnight encounter.”

  “Not in the mood, Indira.” I say, scowling. I jab a finger into my belly, near the impnt. I feel the lump with the side of my fingertip and I suppress a heave. “What the hell is this?”

  “Oh, the impnt? We were going to tell you about that st week. We wanted to get you all together for a presentation about the programme - including what the impnt is and why you have it - but someone,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me, “made a bit of a mess of things. Tommy’s coming back to join you all today, though, so we’ll be doing the presentation after lunch. Just hold on until then.”

  My anger evaporates and is repced by shame and frustration as she turns the bme for the mystery on me effortlessly. I’m the one who’s prevented everyone from knowing what they’re doing to us? If I’d just controlled myself we’d be a week along and much more aware. And maybe I’d know what they’re drugging me with at night. She tilts her head, regarding me with an analytical eye.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  “I… feel weird.” I can’t say it. I can’t accuse them of something so wicked, so sinful, without evidence. I’ve seen no harsh treatment that didn’t come as a direct response to something we did first. Aside from the initial abduction, that is. It’s almost as if they care. I turn back to look at my comrades at the table, to draw what strength I can from them to ask the question, but they’re just staring back at me with expressions of worry and fear. I’m alone in this.

  Indira looks up at me and steps closer. She pces a hand over my heart. It’s already racing, thank God, so she can’t feel how it accelerates at her touch. “Take it steady. Rex. Breathe in,” she takes a deep breath, to demonstrate, “and out. In… and out. Keep going at that pace until you feel yourself calming. Then you can try to expin.”

  The world falls away. I disappear into the void, kept connected to reality by the thinnest of gossamer threads. My chest rises and falls with the timing of the breaths. Slowly. Deliberately. I’m vaguely aware of distant voices, but none of them matter in this empty space where nothing exists but-

  Breathe in… and out. In… and out.

  I open my eyes and I’m falling backwards. I try to regain my bance but I’m disoriented and still somewhat freaked out, so I colpse on the floor in a heap as my legs give up the fight to remain standing.

  “Fucken’ ouch,” says the floor. “I thought we established I can’t escape this way.”

  “This is why we asked both of you to help,” adds Donna, looking sternly at someone out of my eyeline. Daniel, probably.

  “You could have done it yourself!” he retorts, his voice carrying an edge of… terror?

  “After the stunt you pulled a week ago?” Francesca steps into view. “None of us are turning our backs on you for anything short of a medical emergency, and as few of us as possible even then. You’re not at a point where we can trust you to refrain from violence, yet.”

  “We’re about to have one of those if you don’t get this fat fuck off me right quick,” Rhys wheezes from somewhere underneath me. I blink a few times, uncomprehending.

  “Joel! Up! Now!” Indira chivvies me along with her schoolteacher affect, and I’m up and standing off to one side, looking down at a slightly squashed Welshman, before I know what’s happening.

  “Nell…” Rhys moans weakly. “Get them to install the memorial pque right here, right where I died. You’ll visit it, won’t you? Of course you will. You could never forget me. Not your cariad.”

  “Oh, shut up, you absolute drama queen,” his sponsor replies with an amused snort. “Stop being a baby. You’re fine. Joel, help him up.”

  I extend a hand and, as he grasps it, pull him to his feet. He still looks a little unsteady, though. He gives me an experimental push as he leans on me for support.

  “Bloody hell. I can’t move you a fucken’ millimetre.” He looks at Indira in awe. “Who or what the hell are you? Tommy hit him in the head as hard as I’ve ever seen, and then… and you just… Fuck. You don’t need that taser, do you? You’ve got mutant powers or some shit.”

  “Don’t try me, sweetie.” Indira turns the most regal and devastating look on the other boy. It’s the kind of look that tears open your chest and ys your heart bare. It’s the kind of look that says your doom awaits should you dare challenge me. It reminds me more than anything of a scene from the Fellowship of the Ring, when Frodo offers Gadriel the Ring of Power.

  “Somebody let you get hold of the fucken’ One Ring, didn’t they?”

  We’re sharing the same bloody brain cell. I start to giggle.

  “Yes,” she decres imperiously. “I have become a queen, great and terrible. All will look upon me and despair,” Indira’s expression turns to a beautiful, benevolent smile, “because I already have a boyfriend.”

  The tension releases from the air. A snort of ughter escapes from my face, and I start to giggle. Rhys looks at me, a strange expression on his face, and he too begins to snicker, then ugh. Even Daniel is fighting the urge, although his battle lines are crumbling as his lips quirk upwards at the corners. It’s at this point, with all of us incapacitated by the giggles to varying degrees, that Kyle enters, freezing in the doorway as he takes it all in.

  “W-what the…” he stutters, unsure how to react to the bizarre scene.

  Bel, suppressing her amusement, takes pity on him. “Come on in. Get something to eat,” she says, “and you all should too.”

  “Morning!” I call to him, wiping my eyes and hiccuping as I try to control the urge to ugh. “Sorry about all this. Someone,” I point at Indira, “might want to consider a career change from kidnapping to stand-up comedy.”

  “Goodness me, no,” Indira sniffs disdainfully. “I have ethical standards, you know.”

  That just sets us off again. Eventually, though, I regain my composure and realise I was the st to do so. I duck my head, embarrassed, and withdraw into myself to recover, sitting heavily on a sofa.

  Kyle puts a hand on my arm. “What’s wrong? You were ughing your arse off less than a minute ago, now you look like someone ran over your dog. What’s going on?”

  Rhys answers before I can. “Fucken’ mood swings, mun. They’re putting something in his water. Turning the frogs gay or whatever. Don’t know what it’s doin’ to him, but he’s sure as shit not a frog, so who knows what’s gonna happen. Stands to reason the chemicals’ll have a different effect.”

  Indira looks at me with amusement. “What on earth do you think we’re putting in the water?”

  I cringe as I realise I can’t avoid it any longer. I try to steel myself. I need one of my masks. Sunday would work… but I promised. Indira gets the reality behind them, unfiltered. I begin to sob. “You’re dissolving estrogen in my water bottles. That’s my part in this experiment. That’s why I’m such an emotional wreck. You stopped our testosterone with these,” I indicate my impnt again, “and you’re dosing me with estrogen to see how it changes me. You haven’t given the others as high a dose, if any, or they’d be having the same reaction. This is evil.”

  The sponsors share a look. They didn’t expect anyone here to know anything about advanced medical engineering. I’ve got them. Trapped them in their own web of deceit and chicanery. They burst out ughing.

  “Oh, you precious little…” Indira wipes a tear carefully away from a perfectly-lined eye. “Joel. Honey. Sweetheart. We haven’t put anything in your water.” She’s either the greatest actor the world has ever seen or I’ve just made the most colossal fool of myself. “Yes, the impnts are hormone blockers. Yes, we’re stopping your testosterone. But can you bme us for that after st week? Imagine how you all might behave with unchecked levels of aggression. When you’ve finished the programme, you won’t need them any more, and they’ll just dissolve, no harm done. All right? None of you have been given any other medication other than what you’ve asked for. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Like I said, you were all supposed to be told a week ago, but circumstances prevented it. Be a good boy, though, and pretend like you don’t know when Teenie gives the presentation ter? She’s worked so hard on it.”

  “Teenie?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly! You know her. Christine. My little sister.”

  I suddenly realise how Indira id me out with the gentlest of touches. I remember being made to watch many, many videos of evangelists ciming to be vessels of God’s power, and that power causing normal-seeming humans to transform at a touch into sacks of quivering jelly, colpsing on the spot, or freezing them in pce until they fell over, stiff as a board, and in at least one case sending them flying across the room violently. And God, or the closest approximation thereof, was Indira’s little sister. I begin to tremble uncontrolbly. My view narrows, becoming dark.

  When I’m once again able to see, Indira is holding out a bowl of cereal to me and smiling. I take it from her gingerly. I can barely force the food down my throat. I feel sick. Kyle is sitting next to me on the arm of the sofa, rubbing my shoulder and making soothing noises. It’s nice. The other two are talking, and looking at us every so often. Rhys stares daggers at Kyle until he notices I’m aware, and looks away, red-faced. I’ll have to have a word with him about that. My nerves are just about beginning to settle down, when Chris walks in.

  “Morning, dies and dipshits.”

  Three sets of eyes narrow suspiciously at my former bandmate. It’s not even ten and I’ve got no spoons left to deal with his bullshit other than the one in my hand and I’m still using that to try and get through the st of my Weetabix, so I do the only possible thing I can under the circumstances. Which is to ignore the crap out of him.

  “What have you lot fucking done to him this time?” he groans. I’m not rising to it. I continue to eat, slowly.

  “Chill out, mun,” Rhys sounds weirdly pcating. That’s unusually thoughtful of him. “He’s just learned that nobody’s doing anythin’ at all to him so he’s got to come to terms with the fact that he’s just this much of a prick.” Ah. There we are. Normal service has been resumed.

  “Ha!” Chris barks a ugh. “Sounds about right. Hey, mate, it’s okay. I’ve known this about you all along, and we’re still friends, yeah?”

  “Sure,” I mumble around a mouthful of soggy wheat. Kyle pats me on the head and ruffles my hair.

  “Uh, is there something you two wanna tell me?” Chris asks, “You never used to let me get away with shit like that.”

  Kyle ughs brightly. I sigh, and drag myself reluctantly out of the sofa’s grip to pce my empty bowl in the pile of dirty dishes. “No. Us two, as you put it, haven’t even discussed it ourselves. It’s never seemed like quite the right time, what with one tasering or another always ruining the moment.”

  “Shame. You’d make a cute couple.”

  Rhys makes a strangled noise and I’m briefly grateful to Chris for finally managing to shut him up.

  Indira cps to get our attention. “All right, children. Tommy’s being let out of the cells today - nice eyeliner, by the way, Chris - and the st time he was let out he was in here for all of five minutes before he decided he missed the experience too much and got himself, Daniel and Joel sent back to them. Do not rise to anything he does, or says, unless you also want a short holiday in an very exclusive concrete box. If he’s learned his lesson, he’ll get to stay out here. If not…” The unspoken threat hangs in the air.

  Daniel swallows nervously. “Message received. Don’t wanna get shocked again.”

  “Mood.” I reply, nodding slowly. “Not that I remember what it feels like, but if I do it means - it means I lost it again. And I don’t want to do that. I want to be able to stand up for Kyle, to protect him, without the indiscriminate destruction if Tommy targets him again.”

  Rhys nudges Nell, and she nods an affirmative at him. They leave the room together in silence. What’s that about?

  “While I’m sure he appreciates the thought,” Indira says, “please do not assault anyone, no matter how noble or justified you believe your defence is. Trust in the sponsors to handle things.”

  “Uhh, Chris?” Kyle timidly asks, crossing the space to stand next to me.

  “Yeah, mate? What’s up?”

  “Why are you wearing eyeliner?”

  * * *

  #2022_Intake_Sponsor_ChatPlease limit discussion of programme participants to this channel. To whoever is drawing smiley faces on the ser turrets, stop it.

  >CHRiSTiNOSI just want to let you all know I’ve saved the recording so we can all watch Dira’s first comedy special ter tonight.

  >Like A Birdomg amazing, i thought i was gonna die ughin ??

  >Lo-Fi Indira BeatsWho gave you permission to film in this venue...Aren’t you the one always banging on about opsec?

  >Donna Even Think About ItI lost it completely when J fell over, almost couldn’t put serious sponsor face back on to tell Danny off like 5 secs ter

  >BelYou are soooo close to the line Dira“When you’ve finished the programme you won’t need blockers anymore”OH REALLY YOU DON’T SAY TELL ME WHY NOT

  >Lo-Fi Indira BeatsHA

  >Like A Birdhlep me i cant this is too much

  >Charmander!Nellie please for the love of god take a breath

  >Beth(any%speedrun)WHAT DID I MISS?!?

  >Lo-Fi Indira BeatsJoel thinks we’re forcefemming him[??3]Ridiculous tbqhthat’s next week’s job

  >Like A Bird??????

  >BelDira stop we can’t handle thissponsor turnover is bad enough without you taking us out too

  >Lo-Fi Indira BeatsGIVE ME A SPECIAL NETFLIX YOU COWARDS

  >CHRiSTiNOSAhem.“OpSec”[??7]Fran, go and fetch yours in a few minutes when they’ve settled a bit.

  >FrantasticNo problem, boss

  >CHRiSTiNOSoh god nodon’t do thatthat’s just too bloody weird

  * * *

  “What?” Chris looks at Kyle with obvious puzzlement. “I wear it all the time. He can confirm that.” He points at me and I nod.

  “Yeah. One hundred percent true. Not sure how you got any down here though,” I say, “I thought this pce was locked down tighter than Sam’s arse.”

  Chris shrugs. “Mate. Practically all of the girls are wearing it, so I asked Charlie about getting some st night. It was on my dresser by the morning.”

  “God. Nobody tell Rhys, he’ll be begging poor Nell every five seconds for all sorts of random shit.”

  “Wait,” Kyle interjects. “Who’s Sam? And you still haven’t told me why?”

  “Our lead guitarist,” says Chris, rolling his eyes theatrically. “Bit of a diva. Talented, though. Only reason we put up with him this long. As for why, well. That’s easy. I’m a drummer. And I py mostly pop punk or metal, for preference. That’s why me,” he jabs himself with a thumb, “and him,” he extends a finger to point at me, “are mates. We’re kinda alike that way. Anyway, if you isote that demographic, the fact I’m only wearing eyeliner makes me one of the most boring, normalest normies around. It’s when I stop that people should start worrying about an identity crisis.”

  “Bloody hell,” says Charlie.

  Indira’s shit-eating grin threatens to consume me whole. “Does that mean,” she says innocently, “that Joel is having one right now?”

  Fucking kill me now. I’ll take anything. Earthquake. Volcano. Drone strike. A pilr of fucking fire from heaven. She’s disassembling me piece by piece and she’s being so fucking innocent and sweet and nice about it I can’t even get upset. God help me, I want to ugh. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Chris, of all people, saves my sanity.

  “Nah. Bassists are weird,” he ughs. “Oh sure, they look like they’ve got it together, that’s kinda their job in the band. But in reality they’re all just a dozen coping mechanisms in a trenchcoat. Right, bud?”

  I nod, weakly.

  “See? You’ve taken his comfort bnket away. Give him a bass and he’ll start to look normal again. I’m different. I’m allowed to be weird. Although, I really am starting to miss hitting things with sticks.”

  Charlie shakes their head at him. “I don’t think I can swing that one, Chris. An eyeliner pencil and a spot of concealer for what's left of that shiner is one thing, but I’m not dragging a whole drum kit down here.”

  “Ahh, fuck. I’m gonna get so rusty,” he compins, turning to face me. “It’s a problem for you too, right?”

  I nod more confidently this time. “Doing my best with the air guitars they left me. I’m trying not to let it get me down too much. This might actually be the worst thing about being here. Everything else is actually kind of bearable, to a point, but not being able to py music? They couldn’t hurt me worse if they tried. And,” I raise a finger, “let’s not forget I have already been shot with multiple tasers.”

  Indira looks at me sympathetically. “It’s that bad?” she asks.

  I think carefully before I answer. “Yeah. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it really does feel that bad.”

  “Well, Charlie’s right. We can’t bring items like that down here. But we do have options. Leave it with me, I’ll get back to you on that front. Might be a little while, though.”

  “Just knowing you’ll look into it is enough for now. Thanks, Indira.” I smile gratefully. She’s lived up to every word she has spoken to me until now. I can trust her to do whatever she can for us. I drop zily onto the sofa again, wanting nothing more than to watch TV and switch off until lunch.

  We’re halfway through a rerun of Bake-Off when Nell returns with a morose-looking Rhys. She steers him to the sofa I’m on and gently pushes him until he plops down next to me. Signalling to me with her eyebrows (how did I not notice how perfectly sculpted they were before?), she tilts her head fractionally towards the boy she more or less just dumped in my p, and walks off to whisper to the other sponsors.

  “Hey,” I begin.

  “Mm?” He doesn’t look up. I’ve only known him for a few days, but this seems very out of character. Or the other Rhys was, and now the front he put up has been dismantled by Nell in the same way Indira did to me.

  “Rhys bach. Tatws.” Now he looks at me, with the weirdest little smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry, butt. Got my head stuck so far up my own arse I could taste the Weetabix coming and going.” He gives a little self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess it all just finally got to me. You’re, like, so comfortable in here already. You’ve got a friend you’ve known for years, you’ve got your number one fan literally hangin’ off you like a fucken’ remora, and you’re even BFFs with your prison guard. Hell, she’d probably actually bring you anything you asked for.” I cough, hoping Chris takes the hint that this is not a good time to mention the eyeliner. “I thought, when it was just us, that maybe we could face it all together, but you don’t need me at all. You never would have.”

  “What?” I excim in astonishment. “If I’m keeping it together here at all it’s by the skin of my teeth! The only reason I’m not a complete wreck is that sometimes, apparently, the sponsors need sleep too. And st night…” I massage my temples as I contempte how to expin Bethany to a normal person, “st night I had the nightwatchwoman making sex noises at me and threatening to stick me in a ket-hole at three in the morning! And this morning I’m such a mess I actually thought for a second that the water they were sending to my room was turning me into a fucking girl! I am bloody well not comfortable! I hear you sniggering back there, Nell! It’s not bloody funny!”

  I realise by this point I’m yelling. Perhaps I shouldn’t be. But the valve that usually controls the flow of my emotions is jammed wide open, and I’m upset. I’m crying. I’m angry. I’m absolutely fucking furious. And yet, despite that, I’m still fully aware and in control. It’s the realisation of this, rather than a ck of things to be frustrated about, that stops me in my tracks. I hold my hands out in front of me, palm up, and turn them over. I clench my fists, then rex. Other than a slight tremor from the strain I’m under, they’re fully mine. I see the mask with its cruel, animalistic expression, waiting for me to put it on, to Rage again, but all I do is shake my head in wonder and a little half-ugh escapes my chest. So easy.

  Everyone gives me plenty of space to let it out. Everyone but Rhys, because he’s trapped in the sofa cushions next to me. “I… I do need you, mate. I need all of you. Indira’s been straight with me, at least so far, but the five of you are the only ones I know aren’t gonna suddenly flip and do something legit insane. Tommy only punched me, that’s normal. Well, normal-ish. I’d definitely prefer to not be smacked in the head like that.” I rub the side of my head, feeling more than a little awkward.

  “You an’ me both, butt,” he chuckles. “Fuck me, I thought I was gonna be obliterated until you started gigglin’ like a fucken’ loon. We’re ok?”

  “We’re ok, tatws bach.” I see Nell pull out her phone, presumably satisfied everything is back to what passes for normal in here. Rhys rexes, and I realise how tense he’s been, holding himself away from me.

  “Oop. No offence,” he says, “but I’m gonna go sit somewhere else. This sofa is tryin’ to force me to sit in your p, and I don’t think our retionship is quite there yet.” He begins to extricate himself slowly and carefully, until the moment he overbances and puts his hand on my thigh and, in that same frozen moment, our eyes meet, inches apart.

  The spell is broken as he snatches his hand away with a “fuck!” and a “sorry!”, as he falls off the sofa in a panic. I just bury my face in my hands to hide the flush of crimson, about as embarrassed as I’ve ever been. I hear the other boys ughing, and I risk a peek at the sponsors. Nell is showing them something on her phone and they’re giggling too.

  “Why,” she asks, affecting nonchance, “have you started calling him your little potato?”

  “Why not?” Indira responds, “when he falls as gracefully as a sack of spuds?”

  * * *

  Christine can’t help but feel nervous. Hah! Nervous! If only it were just nerves, as if she’s about to defend her dissertation. She’s not cut out to be the evil matriarch of an underground kidnapping and forced feminisation ring. It wasn’t so long ago that she and Paige were freshly graduating and swearing to have nothing to do with Dorley Hall, but then Steph happened and Stenordale happened and the pandemic happened and then, somehow, Steph happened again, and it all kind of became a confusing mess of obligation and a genuine desire to help people that not only needed what the programme offered, but actually wanted it. She’s been enjoying some aspects of the job, such figuring out what lessons will best reach girls who might not fully understand that they can even be one, because that meant she could log time spent chatting with Paige as work hours, and she does rather like the ones that let her flex her creativity when it comes to the systems. She’s starting to feel, though, that she might owe the boys down in the basement an apology for some of the tricks she’s pulled. Today isn’t going to endear her to them all that much, either. She remembers what it was like with Steph, after she dumped her in Pippa’s p then spent the next few weeks trying at first to break her out, then to run interference so the poor girl wouldn’t be too traumatised by the experience. It’s not the same Hall as it was a mere three years ago, but even with the group they have now, all of which are allegedly gender-questioning at the very least, she feels worried that they might be wrong about some of them, that they’ve set themselves up to very badly damage some boys who might otherwise mature into perfectly well-adjusted women. She scoffs quietly to herself, remembering the article on waiting lists Lorna was telling her about the other day. Sure, and while she’s wishing, could she have a pony, pretty please?

  “Oh my goodness, just look at you.” Indira breathes.

  She fusses with her skirt, tugging it straight. She looks back up the stairs, to the big double doors, and wonders if she could just walk right back up there and out of the Hall and straight home to her girlfriend and-

  “Teenie! Stop overthinking.”

  Christine tears her gaze from the temptation of escape and sighs, realising she’s missed her chance. “Sorry, Dira. Just thinking that I might not be the best person to lead our six hopefuls to enlightenment.” Not the best person! She’s surrounded by amazing women who are all better qualified for this. She wishes Paige could have stayed longer than just to do her hair and make-up.

  Indira pats her softly on the head. Carefully, so as not to mess up her hair. “Oh, Chris-teenie. Dear, dear sister. I’d gdly do it myself if you really needed me to, but one, I’m too used to breaking the boys and two, I actually have someone to keep an eye on in there. And three, you’re the perfect woman for the job, sweetheart. I still have my role to py, but this time we need someone to lead, not to drive. You’ll see what I mean when you’re in there. And your presentation is fwless, so stop panicking.”

  “I still wish we could have gone over it a couple more times.” Christine mutters, only half intending for Indira to hear. At a more normal volume, she continues, in the hope her sister will take the hint and drop it, “You think they’re really that different to a normal intake? They’re responding quickly, but how do we know it’s not just a smokescreen? How do we know we’re not going to have another Freddie?” That poor boy. Might’ve been the biggest fuck-up at the Hall since she’d been there, not counting her own, of course.

  “Because, Teenie, you are very good at your job. And you have backup for your nefarious schemes now. Several pairs of eyes have confirmed your choices, including mine. Trust meee,” Indira beams, “your big sister has your back. And, oh my goodness, yes. They’re very different. You should have seen them after you went to catch up with the girls this morning! We even had a moment. You know, like in those cheesy straight-to-streaming rom-coms where the two bickering leads accidentally touch and make eye-contact and suddenly they’re falling over themselves pretending nothing at all is happening. It’s only been a week and they’re already trying out pet names for each other. The way things are going, it wouldn’t surprise me if we had a polycule by Christmas.” A thought looks like it occurs to her and she giggles. “Speaking of, remind me to give Maria my predictions while there’s still a chance someone will take the bet.”

  Christine nods, somewhat mollified. “I might spoil that mood, a little.”

  “Good. It needs spoiling. It needs ruining. They all have some terrible habits they need to break and they need them to not be shameful little secrets they can hide from each other while they pretend to be good little boys and/or girls. The other thing that’s different is that they are much more reluctant to brag about the things they did on the outside. Your girlfriend is as perceptive as she is beautiful, she was right on the money about that.”

  Well, that was hardly surprising. Paige’s breadth of knowledge constantly amazes and enthralls her. She sighs dreamily as she thinks about her gorgeous girlfriend, stopping herself with a little cough as she notices Indira giving her a knowing smirk.

  “I should probably get into character, then,” she says, just a little too brightly. Damn. Indira knows her too well, it’s going to be a long time before she can get anything past her.

  “Before you do,” Indira says, in the sponsor voice that Christine remembers with a nervous shudder, “I just wanted to say I’m proud of you. You’re going to help these boys so much. You’re a wonderful little sister.” She smiles a devastating smile at Christine. “And your Aunt Bea cospy is on point.” With that, she sweeps off down the hall to help the others settle the boys in the common room.

  “And you,” Christine grumbles at her sister’s retreating back, “are bloody trolling me. This is hard enough!” She tries to push down the glowing feeling of happiness her sister’s comments had engendered in her and recapture the persona of Christine the Elder God-Beast, the one she pnned to present with. Keying the lights to track her phone’s location, she sets them to a dimming pulse. Perfect. That was the aura of menace she needed. She can only hope that her sister doesn't try to spoil it by making her ugh mid-presentation. Taking a deep breath, she rounds the corner and sets off down the corridor as she prepares to dispense judgement to the unsuspecting occupants of the basement.

  * * *

  Tommy was brought in just before lunch. Francesca was as short with him as she’d been the first time, which worried me. Clearly he hadn’t learned much from his little break in the cells. He chose a seat as far away from me as possible, though, so evidently he wasn’t looking to resume our st encounter. Good. I had no intention of letting things get out of control again. The actual meal itself was a muted affair, none of us wanted to be the spark that ignited the tension in the air. Kyle and Rhys sat with me at one table, Chris and Daniel with Tommy at another. No conversation, no sound but the clicking of cutlery against the bowls or the occasional sponsor clearing their throat.

  Now that we’re more or less finished, I can feel something coming. I look around, and all the sponsors bar Indira are taking up positions near their charges. Indira herself is fiddling with something over by the television and she’s somehow bullied the sofas into a slightly different arrangement. I gnce out of the doorway, back down the main corridor, and that’s when I see the demon. Its aura of darkness is palpable as it moves slowly, deliberately towards me. None of the other boys have seen it. Perhaps they can’t. Perhaps it is my own personal devil come to visit its torments upon me. The hairs on my arms rise, and I start to shiver. Kyle notices that.

  “Joel, what’s the matter?” he says. He can’t see into the corridor from where he’s sitting, but he cranes forward to try to follow my stare.

  Rhys gives him a questioning look and then stands so I’m not blocking his view. “Holy fucken’ shit. What is that?”

  The other three have no line of sight into the corridor, so they all try to get up at once to see what’s happening. Their sponsors are having none of it, though, and the boys are all easily restrained by a hand on the shoulder and, most likely, tasers in the back. Nell is prodding at Rhys to sit down, and he eventually gives way to her with a sullen grimace.

  It’s getting closer.

  The demon enters the room.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” says Christine.

  DaughterofKhaos