CELL

/ TWENTY TWO /

"Did you like my game?"

Ryan didn't need to look to see the owner of the voice. He recognised it instantly.

"Fuck off," he said.

The girl laughed, and the sound was infectious, injecting Ryan with endorphins. He stifled them with a mental grip around their throat. He was not happy to see her again, whoever the hell she was, so would resist any attempt to make him feel pleased.

"Oh, poor Rye-Rye. You're sad. Does Rye-Rye want a hug?"

There was another giggle, but Ryan had his happy hormones in check. They'd been evicted in no uncertain terms.

"My name is Ryan, and no. I don't want a hug. Fuck off and leave me alone."

"Is it?"

"Is what, what?"

"Your name. Is it really Ryan, or is that just what she called you?"

"I don't care. I don't know, so it doesn't matter. She can call me whatever the fuck she wants."

The girl didn't answer and, in the extended silence, Ryan tried to ignore the urge to turn to her.

He failed.

She stood close to the bars, holding on to them with hands that were too small for the fingers to reach all the way around the steel rods. Instead of the grin he expected, she looked grim. Her brow furrowed and her mouth was a thin line of worry.

She was glowing faintly, her luminescence spreading to the bars closest to her.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, despite his desire to remain uncaring.

"It's not safe," the girl said.

With a sigh, Ryan returned his attention to the obviously invisible roof.

"Fuck off."

"OK."

"What's that supposed..."

His retort was cut short when he looked back at her. He was, once again, alone in the dark.

"Shit."

"Sshhhh!"

The 'fuck off' this time was voiced in his head. He was thinking. The girl had to be imaginary, as he'd been speaking to her, but his neighbour had only piped up once she'd gone. That meant the brief conversation had to be imaginary, too. He hadn't been speaking at all. So, who was she?

Could she be his memories struggling to return? Was she trying to tell him something? To guide him to a revelation that would open himself wide? If so, she was doing a crap job. Why be so vague? It isn't safe? No shit, Sheerluck!

Who was she??

Wait!

She was... Oh, it was just there, on the tip of the tongue that licked clean the chasm between his ears. He tried to snatch at it, but the tongue flicked away, keeping it just out of reach. Fine, then. He'd ignore it, if it wasn't going to...

Ha! Got it!

She was, dun dun dunnnn, Carla.

No.

Carly.

No!

Clara!

Yes. Clara. A nice name, he thought, for a right pain in the arse. But why that name, in particular? It must mean something to him, otherwise he wouldn't have given her that moniker. Perhaps, once she'd unlocked whatever she was the key for, the true 'Clara' would be revealed. For now, he was content with that tiny snippet of knowledge. It was the first solid clue he had that indicated all was not lost within him. Useless now, it could, no must be important.