Day 2

Sleep claims me quickly despite the guilt gnawing at my gut. The whiskey and exhaustion drag me under. I wake with first light, groggy but unable to shake the awareness of what's coming.

The shower stings as it wakes me fully. I pull on clean clothes with detached precision, not feeling any of it. When I return to the dungeon, the girls are already up.

Their bodies are lean and vulnerable in the harsh fluorescent light. Lian stands with her arms wrapped around herself, her dark eyes wary. Mia twists her fingers together, her breathing uneven. The others watch me approach with varying degrees of fear – Harper biting her lip, Juliette pale and tense, Sofia openly trembling, Aria and Isla maintaining some composure despite the situation.

I watch them for a few long seconds while they look back at me, eyes glistening with fear and something else – something like hope that maybe I'll just turn around and leave them alone. Instead I reach for my pouch and pull out the sticks without saying a word. Should I have said something? Would it change anything? I don't know.

The sticks hover in my hand like tiny judges. Mia's fingers twitch as she reaches out first, her face tight with dread. The others follow suit – Lian closing her eyes as she selects one, Aria maintaining a tense silence. Each girl draws slowly, as if that would magically make the stick long.

My stomach twists as the first short stick appears. Then another. A collective gasp escapes as Harper and Sofia stare at their identical pieces of wood. They look at each other, then at the waiting machines behind the glass. Harper's face contorts in horror while Sofia goes deathly pale, her plump lower lip quivering.

The silence is suffocating as Harper and Sofia's fingers clench around their sticks. Their bodies are rigid with tension, every muscle taut like bowstrings. Harper's chest heaves as she draws breath, while Sofia's shoulders hunch inward as if trying to make herself smaller. The remaining girls step back instinctively, creating distance like the force of impending violence might push them away.

I move to the center of the room, speaking in a flat, emotionless tone.

"Fate has made its choice. Now one of you has to volunteer to die."

Harper looks to Sofia with wide, desperate eyes.

"Sofia... I... I can't..." Her words crack, thick with unshed tears.

Sofia doesn’t breathe. She looks at the machines with naked horror, then back to Harper. When she speaks, her voice is whisper-thin.

"Harper... I..."

Harper shakes her head violently, pink strands of hair whipping around her face.

"No, no, no, no, no. Sofia, please, you can't. You can't make me..." She's crying openly now, hands clasped at her chest like she's begging an unseen deity.

Sofia's hands come up to cover her mouth. She backs away from Harper, shaking her head.

"I... I can't... I can't... I can't..."

My pulse hammers in my throat as the girls' confrontation plays out. Harper breaks first, dropping to her knees with a sob, her small hands pressed together in supplication.

"Sofia, please. Please."

She speaks brokenly, nearly incomprehensible through her tears. The other girls watch in tense silence, some turning away. Sofia stands frozen, staring at the machines with wide, terrified eyes. When she finally speaks, her words come out strangled.

"I... I can't kill someone. I can't even bear to watch it."

Harper reaches up and grabs Sofia's hands, squeezing desperately.

"Then volunteer. Please. I don't want to die. I don't."

Sofia's breathing becomes shallow and rapid, her fingers quivering in Harper's grasp. The terror on her face is raw and genuine – I've seen it before, but it never gets easier to watch. Her plump lips part as she tries to speak, but no sound comes out at first. When she finally manages words, they emerge in a broken whisper.

"I... I volunteer. I'll do it."

Her voice is almost inaudible, but it's there. The relief on Harper's face is immediate and devastating – tears streaming down her cheeks as she collapses against Sofia in gratitude.

The moment Sofia volunteers, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The other girls release their held breath, some visibly relaxing while others watch with morbid fascination. Sofia stands frozen, her toned body shaking as the reality of her choice settles over her. Her amber skin has gone gray with paleness, and her fingers remain intertwined with Harper's as if she's afraid to let go.

Sofia's breathing comes in short, rapid gasps as she realizes the enormity of what she's done. Harper clings to her, murmuring incoherent words of thanks and comfort, her face still streaked with tears. Around them, the other girls shift uncomfortably – their eyes darting between Sofia's quivering body and the machines waiting behind the glass wall.

I step closer to Sofia, the fluorescent lights catching the slight sheen of sweat at her temples. I try to make my voice steady despite feeling like I’m looking at a slowed down car crash of my own making.

"Sofia, you've volunteered. How would you like to die?"

The last word scrapes out of me. My throat tightens halfway through it, turning it into something closer to a cough than a command. All I can think about is how wrong it feels to ask her this. How grotesque it is that she’s expected to make this sort of choice at all. My skin crawls with the awareness that she’s looking at me like I’m the last thing standing between her and oblivion – and I’m the one nudging her toward it.

Her wide brown eyes focus to mine, then look away, settling on the glass wall beyond which the machines of death loom. Her lower lip trembles.

"I... I don't..." Her voice is barely a whisper.

She clutches at Harper's hand, which is still gripping her desperately. Harper's fingers squeeze back, her face wet with tears as she looks up at Sofia with overwhelming gratitude.

"I don't want to die at all," Sofia whispers, her voice breaking. "But if I have to... I don't know. I can't think about it."

Harper pulls Sofia down to kneel with her, both of them facing the glass wall.

"Sofia, please," Harper pleads, her voice thick with tears. "Choose the fastest one. Please don't make me watch you suffer."

Her small hands frame Sofia's face, tears dripping onto her lap. The other girls remain silent, but their eyes never leave Sofia and Harper.

Sofia's face crumples under Harper's touch. She doesn't look at the machines this time – just focuses on Harper's desperate eyes. A tear rolls down Sofia's cheek as she slowly, reluctantly turns toward the glass wall.

"The guillotine," she finally says, almost inaudibly. "The fastest one."

Harper makes a soft sound halfway between a sob and a sigh of relief. She leans forward and wraps her arms around Sofia's shoulders, burying her face in Sofia's chest.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you, thank you."

Sofia's arms remain at her sides for a long moment before hesitantly patting Harper's back.

I don’t move immediately. I can’t. For one impossible second, I want to tell her no. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to do this. I want to tell them all to run, even though there’s nowhere to go. Instead I stand there, throat burning, sweat prickling down my spine, hearing my own heartbeat thundering like guilt given form. The best I can do is give her time to say her goodbyes.

The atmosphere in the room is thick with emotion as I step back, allowing Sofia a moment with the remaining girls. Harper still clings to her waist, her face pressed against Sofia's shoulder as silent tears stream down her face. The other girls hover close, their faces taut with tension and grief.

Sofia's eyes sweep across the gathered women – Mia, Lian, Aria, Isla, Juliette. Her breath catches as she meets each of their gazes in turn. She extends one shaking hand toward them, fingers curling as if she wants to pull them all into a group hug.

"Hey." Sofia's words waver. She clears her throat and tries again, speaking with forced lightness. "I'm going to miss you guys."

Mia moves first, stepping forward to grasp Sofia's outstretched hand. "You're brave," she says, her voice soft with admiration. Her dark eyes search Sofia's face, finding something there that makes her grip tighten. "I hope..." She trails off, shaking her head slightly. "I hope it is quick for you."

Isla moves next, wrapping Sofia in a tight embrace. Her face presses against Sofia's shoulder as she murmurs, "I'm sorry, lass." When she pulls back, her face is wet with tears.

Aria hesitates for just a moment before joining the embrace, her tall frame curving around both Sofia and Isla. "You're doing what I could not."

Her voice is low and rough with emotion. She squeezes Sofia's shoulder gently.

Lian steps forward, her hands twisting together anxiously.

"I wish..." She pauses, swallowing hard. "I wish I can change this."

Her dark eyes shine with unshed tears as she extends her hand. Sofia grasps it with her free hand, her grip firm despite the tremor in her fingers.

Harper lifts her head from Sofia's shoulder, her face stained with tears.

"I don't know what to say," she whispers. "Thank you isn't enough." Her hands slide up to frame Sofia's face again, her thumbs brushing away fresh tears. "I won't forget this. I swear I won't."

Lian steps back, wiping her cheek with the heel of her hand. The circle loosens for a heartbeat, as if the moment is over – but it isn’t. Juliette hasn’t moved. She stands slightly behind Isla, small and still, fingers curling around Isla’s arm like she’s afraid the world will tilt if she lets go. Her expression is distant, unfocused, like she’s seeing all of this through thick glass. Sofia offers her a soft, trembling smile.

“Jules?”

For a moment, Juliette doesn’t react. Then Isla gently nudges her shoulder. Juliette blinks, as if returning from somewhere far away.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Right.”

She approaches Sofia slowly, almost reluctantly, stopping just close enough that their toes nearly touch. She studies Sofia’s face – really studies it – as if trying to memorize something she only just realized she’s about to lose. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft and strangely blunt.

“I wish you did not have to do this,” Juliette says. “But… I understand why you did.”

Sofia lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Juliette’s brows pinch for a moment, a tiny faltering of that dazed calm. Then she surprises everyone – even herself – by reaching out and brushing a tear from Sofia’s cheek with her thumb.

“You deserved better,” she whispers. “Better than this place. Better than us asking you to…”

She trails off. Her throat works as she tries to swallow something too heavy. Sofia’s chin trembles.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back.

Juliette shakes her head once, a small, abrupt motion – like a tic of pain breaking through the fog.

“No. It is not.” She glances sideways at the glass wall, at the looming silhouette of the guillotine. “None of this is.”

The bluntness of the statement lands like a drop of cold water. Even the other girls flinch slightly at how nakedly she says it. Then, in a gesture so gentle it barely seems real in this room, Juliette steps forward and wraps her arms around Sofia’s shoulders – not desperate like Harper, not trembling like Isla, not stiff like Aria. Soft. Almost tender.

Sofia releases a choked, surprised sound as she folds into the embrace. When Juliette pulls back, she meets Sofia’s eyes one last time and murmurs, barely above a breath:

“I hope you find something beautiful after this.”

And then she steps away, no dramatic tears, no collapse – just a quiet retreat back to Isla’s side, where she curls her fingers around Isla’s arm again, as if grounding herself in the only reality she trusts.

The group stands together for a long moment, their collective grief heavy in the air. I give them as much time as I can. Maybe more than I should. Eventually, the soft hum of the lights feels like it’s pressing against my skull – a reminder that time is still moving even though none of us want it to.
I clear my throat. It sounds too loud in the silence.

“Sofia…” My voice cracks, and I have to swallow before I can continue. “It’s time.”

Harper stiffens beside her, clutching Sofia’s hand like she’ll never let go. Sofia squeezes back once – a small, trembling gesture of reassurance she doesn’t feel – then gently untangles her fingers. Her motions are slow, deliberate, like she’s trying to memorize the feel of each girl’s presence while she still can. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, draws a shaky breath, and nods at me.

“All right,” she whispers. “Let’s… let’s go.”

I step in front of her as if I’m shielding her from something, though I know I can’t shield her from anything here. The others instinctively part for us, forming a narrow path toward the glass wall.
Harper follows close behind Sofia, one hand hovering near her back as though afraid that if she stops touching her, Sofia might vanish.

Each footstep toward the execution chamber is punctuated by tiny sounds – Harper’s hitched breathing, Sofia’s uneven exhales, the shuffle of bare feet on cold concrete. Behind us, the girls watch in stricken silence, their small cluster seeming even smaller now that someone is being peeled away from it.

I place my hand on the scanner beside the reinforced door. The lock disengages with a heavy click that echoes far too loudly in the quiet.

“Stay beside me,” I murmur, my voice barely carrying. “Both of you.”

Sofia nods. Harper does too, though she’s trembling.