17: Piran
Piran
They forced Piran through the door, and light burnt. Filters should’ve kicked in, but he still brought up a hand to shield his eyes.
“What’s going to happen to me?” he said, turning to the door. But they’d already shut it.
He slammed his hand on it, the harsh ringing echoing around his head. “You can’t leave me here!”
Piran heard something that might have been a laugh.
“Hey! Open this door! I haven’t done anything wrong!”
This time, there was no sound.
He turned, eyes adjusted to the light now. They’d left him in a cell—bucket in the corner, mattress on the floor. Sensors blinked, one in each corner, where the walls met the ceiling.
Piran waved at them, one at a time. “Hello? Anyone there? Come on!”
No response. Light burnt down from the ceiling tiles. Piran shi
