The Recall Trials
Chapter 93: Hope is the Cruelest Weapon

Chapter 93: Hope is the Cruelest Weapon

Vincent’s POV

Hope can be the cruelest weapon. Because it keeps you waiting... and waiting... even when you’re dying inside.

"Vincent?"

I turned so fast....and there she was.

Zaara stumbled into the room like she was stepping out of a storm. Her hair hung wet and tangled around her face, plastered to her skin. Her cheeks were blotchy from dried tears. Blood streaked both sides of her jumpsuit, dried into colored stains. The front of her jumpsuit was torn across one thigh, smudged with dirt and blood.

My heart punched my ribs.

"Zaara—" I got up so fast my chair crashed to the floor.

"I’m okay..." Her voice broke. "I’m okay..."

Then the strength drained from her knees. She crashed into me, pressing her forehead into my chest so hard.

I wrapped my arms around her so tight.

Behind her, Jojo staggered through the doorway, leaning heavily against the concrete wall. Her skin was pale. She lifted a blood-soaked rag to her mouth.

I swallowed hard.

"Omgg...jojo...."

She lifted her head, and in that wrecked face, I still saw her smirk.

"Told you..." she rasped, trying to smile. "I’d crawl my way back..."

I helped Zaara over to one of the benches. My eyes flicked back to Jojo.

"What happened in there?"

Jojo tried to straighten up, but another cough bent her over, splattering blood unto the concrete.

I lunged forward and grabbed her arm.

"Jojo, sit. Please."

She rolled her eyes. "Mother-henning me already, huh?"

Zaara spoke first.

"I... I saw Jojo in the maze. She was unconscious. It was like... somehow the maze connected me to her. I don’t know why."

My breath caught. I squeezed Zaara’s hand.

"I was so worried. I’m so glad you’re okay."

She tried to smile, but it came out crooked.

I reached for her hands, but she flinched away.

"What happened to your hands?" I whispered, looking terrified.

Zaara recoiled, pressing her wounded palms to her chest. "I... I’ll be right back."

She got up and stumbled toward the locker room.

I turned to Jojo.

"Jojo. Please. What happened in there?"

Jojo let out a long, ragged sigh and dropped her bloodstained rag into a bin beside the bed.

"I’ll tell you everything tomorrow," she said,. "Right now, all I want... is to go to sleep."

She gave me a faint smile.

A few contestants nearby approached her hesitantly.

"Welcome back, Jojo," one murmured.

"Glad you made it," another whispered.

Jojo nodded, trying to wave them off with a shaky laugh. "Yeah, yeah... save your tears, we’re all still stuck in this hellhole."

She lowered herself onto her side, curling up.

I let out a slow, shaking breath.

They made it back. That’s all that matters. They’re here.

Still, I couldn’t shake the twist in my gut.

Zaara hadn’t come back yet.

Minutes dragged on. An hour, maybe more. I sat on a bench near the door, dozing in and out of exhausted half-sleep, my mind kept circling thoughts.

What did the maze do to her? Why won’t she let me touch her?

Finally, I saw her come out of the locker room.

She was in a fresh jumpsuit now, though her hair still hung damp and tangled. She kept her head low.

She walked right past me without a word.

I blinked, sitting up.

"Zaara...?"

She didn’t even glance at me. She headed straight for the far corner of the room, curling up on a bed and pulling her knees to her chest.

A small spark of anger flared in my chest, though I tried to swallow it back.

I know she’s tired. I know she’s traumatized. But why... why does it feel like she’s shutting me out?

I hope the maze didn’t do something to break her...

I wanted to go to her. To ask her what the maze had shown her that made her look at me like I was poison.

But something in the way she curled her arms around herself made me stop.

Maybe she just needed space.

I sank down onto the cot across from hers, my back to the wall.

I couldn’t stop replaying the way she’d flinched from my hand.

My eyes drifted shut.

Please, I thought, as the lights dimmed overhead.

Please don’t let this be the thing that breaks us.

The Next Morning

The alarm bell shrieked through the room.

A chorus of groans rose around me.

Light flickered on.

People stirred slowly in their bunks. A few sat up, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Others stayed slumped over, staring blankly, like the weight of yesterday’s maze was still crushing their chests.

I turned my head.

Zaara was already awake, sitting on the edge of her cot. She was twisting her hair into a ponytail with trembling fingers. Her knuckles were bruised.

"Morning," I murmured, offering a small smile.

She glanced at me....and managed a thin, polite curve of her lips.

But there was nothing behind it.

No softness. No spark.

Then she looked away and busied herself with tying off her hair, pretending I wasn’t there.

The knot in my stomach tightened.

Across the aisle, Jojo lay curled on her side, covers pulled high.

"Hey, Jojo..." I called softly. "Alarm’s gone off."

She didn’t budge.

I pushed myself to my feet, feeling every bruise and ache from the day before. My throat felt dry.

For a moment, nobody moved, as though waiting for the speakers to crackle with another annoying announcement.

But they stayed silent.

Eventually, people started shuffling toward the restroom stalls. Water sputtered from the sinks. Someone complained about how their jumpsuit still smelled like blood.

The heavy doors rolled open and two masked guards entered, wheeling a metal cart stacked with breakfast trays.

"Breakfast," someone whispered.

People lined up, collecting the lukewarm portions, half of them too exhausted to even look disgusted.

The freckled girl from yesterday,Rumi stepped over to Jojo’s bed and nudged her foot gently.

"Jojo...?" she whispered. "Hey. Breakfast is here."

No response.

She glanced at me, uneasy, then leaned closer.

"Jojo?" She raised her voice, shaking Jojo’s shoulder. "Come on. You need to eat."

Still nothing.

The girl’s eyes widened.

"Jojo?" Her voice wobbled.

She bent closer, pressing her ear to Jojo’s chest.

Then she pulled back, looking pale, trembling.

"Guys..." Her voice cracked. "Guys, I think something’s wrong. Jojo’s not...she’s not..."

The words fell apart in her throat.

My blood went cold.

I lunged forward, dropping onto my knees beside the bunk.

"Jojo. Hey. Hey..." I grabbed her hand and lifted it.

It fell limply back to the mattress like a dropped doll.

"No. No, no, no..." My voice was shaking. "Jojo, wake up!"

I touched her face. Her skin felt cool.

Panicked whispers spread through the room.

A contestant with curly hair pushed forward, her eyes was wide. She pressed her fingers against Jojo’s throat, waiting. Then against her chest.

Seconds crawled by.

Finally, she pulled back.

Her lips parted, trembling.

"Guysss..." She whispered. "Jojo is gone."

I stared at her blankly.

"...What?"

The girl stepped back, tears streaming down her face.

"She’s gone, Vincent," she choked. "There’s no pulse."

The walls seemed to close in around me.

My breath hitched.

I stared down at Jojo, willing her chest to move. To rise. To do anything.

Behind me, sobs broke out. Someone dropped their breakfast tray. A plastic fork skittered across the floor.

"No..." I whispered.. "No, please..."

Zaara was suddenly at my side, her face pale. She reached for Jojo’s hand, then stopped halfway, as if terrified to confirm what she already knew.

Jojo lay there, her eyes were closed, her face was pale.

Still.

Silent.

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears blurred my eyes.

Not Jojo.

Not the girl who crawled her way back from hell.

Not the girl who’d promised to tell me everything tomorrow.

I swallowed hard, my chest kept heaving.

"Somebody... get a medic..." I said hoarsely, though even as I said it, I knew it was useless.

Jojo’s bloodstained rag slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor.

I reached for it, gripping it tight.

Everything around me blurred.

A masked guard came pushing forward through the circle of contestants. He wore latex gloves and carried a slim medical scanner. Without a word, he pressed it to Jojo’s chest, then her neck.

A small red light blinked on the screen.

He turned toward his partner and gave a slight shake of his head.

The second guard spoke into a radio.

"Contestant 066 is deceased."

Cleo let out a choking sob. Someone else screamed.

Zaara made a strangled noise and sank down beside me, covering her mouth with her hand.

I stared at Jojo’s face. Her lips were now faintly blue. There was dried blood at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were closed, her expression was so peaceful in a way that made it so much worse.

The masked guard stepped forward, pressing a button on his radio.

"Prepare extraction. Contestant 066."