The Second Night
The dormitory was restless. Moonlight spilled through the barred windows, casting pale stripes across the floor. Boys muttered in their sleep, some cried softly, others stared blankly at the ceiling as if waiting for something to happen.
Fox lay awake, his mind heavy with Vinkmeir’s words. Mr. Boggs. The name clung to him like a shadow.
LB sat upright on his bed, watching him. His voice was low, meant only for the four of them.
“You know why he calls you that, don’t you?”
Fox’s jaw tightened. “Because the first time I was here, I gave him that name. Phineas Boggs. My teacher, Mr. Alden, called him and told him I was Boggs. I thought it would protect me.”
LB shook his head slowly. “It never protects. That’s how he works. He takes the names you give him, twists them, makes them cages. Once he calls you something, you’re trapped in it. You stop being yourself. You become his version of you.”
Nathan frowned. “So he doesn’t just lock you up. He rewrites you.”
LB’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Exactly. Some boys forget who they were. Some start answering to the names he gives them. And once you do that, you never leave. You’re his forever.”
Michael shifted, clutching the journal. “We don’t have to stay. We could leave anytime.”
Andrew sat up, his voice sharp. “What do you mean?”
Michael hesitated, then pulled back his sleeve. The faint glow of the teleport bracelet shimmered against his wrist. “This. We’ve had it all along. We could vanish. Right now. Be gone before the guards even notice.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “And Vinkmeir?”
Michael shook his head. “He can’t follow. The bracelet sends us back to the hub—in our world. Once we’re there, Pickford is gone. The Sanitarium is gone. Vinkmeir is cut off.”
Andrew cursed under his breath. “So why are we still here?”
Fox’s voice was cold, steady. “Because if we run now, we learn nothing. We leave Pickford behind, but it follows us in memory. We’ll never know what he wanted, why he cages boys, why he twists names. We can’t just vanish—we have to escape. On our terms.”
LB leaned forward, his face grim. “If you break out of here, you’ll be the first in years. Boys dream of it, whisper about it, but none succeed. If you do… you’ll prove he doesn’t own you.”
The dormitory settled into uneasy silence. Outside, footsteps echoed in the hall, guards patrolling. A door slammed somewhere deeper in the Sanitarium. A boy whimpered in his sleep.
LB whispered, “Tomorrow, he’ll call you Boggs again. He’ll try to make you believe it. Don’t let him. Hold on to who you are. That’s the only way out.”
Fox stared at the ceiling, his jaw tight. “I’m not Boggs. I never was. I’m Fox Smith. And I’ll prove it.”
Nathan whispered, “Then tomorrow, we plan. Tomorrow, we escape.”
Michael closed the journal, his hands trembling. “And if it fails… we use the bracelet. We go home.”
LB’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “If you can.”
The boys drifted into uneasy sleep, their dreams filled with corridors, cages, and names that weren’t theirs. The Sanitarium breathed around them, alive with whispers and unseen eyes.
But beneath the dread, a decision had been made.
They would not vanish.
They would escape.
And they would leave Pickford behind.
The morning bell rang hollow again, but this time the boys were ready. LB had whispered the plan through the night, his voice low and urgent.
“Guards change at the second bell,” he said. “That’s when the halls are weakest. We move then.”
Fox nodded, his jaw tight. “We don’t vanish. We break out. We leave Pickford behind.”
Michael touched the bracelet beneath his sleeve, its faint glow hidden. “And if it fails?”
Fox’s eyes burned. “Then we use it. But only if we must.”
The second bell tolled. The guards shifted, their boots echoing down the hall. LB motioned, and the boys slipped from their beds, moving silently across the dormitory.
The door creaked open. The corridor stretched long and dim, lined with doors that whispered with muffled cries. The air smelled of antiseptic and rust.
Nathan whispered, “Which way?”
LB pointed. “Toward the courtyard. Past the examination rooms. If we reach the outer gate, we’re free.”
Andrew muttered, “Free until the King’s men catch us again.”
Fox’s voice was cold. “Then we keep running.”
They passed doors with small windows, each revealing fragments of horror: boys strapped to chairs, doctors scribbling notes, instruments gleaming under lamps. One boy stared out at them, his eyes hollow, his lips moving silently.
Michael shivered. “We can’t leave them.”
LB’s voice was sharp. “We can’t save them. Not now. If you stop, you’ll join them.”
Fox pulled him forward. “We escape first. Then we fight.”
The door to the courtyard loomed ahead, its iron frame heavy, its lock thick. Two guards stood watch, their rifles gleaming.
LB whispered, “This is it. We take them down, or we don’t leave.”
Andrew’s stomach twisted. “We’re just kids.”
Fox’s jaw tightened. “Not anymore.”
They moved as one. Nathan hurled a stone, striking the lamp above the guards. Glass shattered, sparks flew. In the confusion, Fox lunged, slamming into one guard. Andrew grabbed the rifle, swinging it wildly. Michael pulled the door open, its hinges screaming.
LB shouted, “Run!”
They spilled into the courtyard, the night air sharp and cold. The outer gate loomed ahead, its bars tall, its lock massive. Behind them, alarms rang, voices shouted, boots thundered.
Nathan gasped, “We’ll never break it!”
Michael raised his sleeve, the bracelet glowing faintly. “Then we use this!”
Fox’s voice cut through the chaos. “Not yet! We’re almost there!”
LB’s eyes gleamed. “Choose, boys. Break the gate—or vanish.”
The courtyard roared with chaos. Guards surged from the halls, rifles raised. The boys stood at the gate, torn between two paths: fight their way out, or vanish into the hub, leaving Pickford behind forever.
Fox’s hand hovered over the lock. Michael’s hand hovered over the bracelet.
The choice was theirs.
Fox lay awake, his mind heavy with Vinkmeir’s words. Mr. Boggs. The name clung to him like a shadow.
LB sat upright on his bed, watching him. His voice was low, meant only for the four of them.
“You know why he calls you that, don’t you?”
Fox’s jaw tightened. “Because the first time I was here, I gave him that name. Phineas Boggs. My teacher, Mr. Alden, called him and told him I was Boggs. I thought it would protect me.”
LB shook his head slowly. “It never protects. That’s how he works. He takes the names you give him, twists them, makes them cages. Once he calls you something, you’re trapped in it. You stop being yourself. You become his version of you.”
Nathan frowned. “So he doesn’t just lock you up. He rewrites you.”
LB’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Exactly. Some boys forget who they were. Some start answering to the names he gives them. And once you do that, you never leave. You’re his forever.”
Michael shifted, clutching the journal. “We don’t have to stay. We could leave anytime.”
Andrew sat up, his voice sharp. “What do you mean?”
Michael hesitated, then pulled back his sleeve. The faint glow of the teleport bracelet shimmered against his wrist. “This. We’ve had it all along. We could vanish. Right now. Be gone before the guards even notice.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “And Vinkmeir?”
Michael shook his head. “He can’t follow. The bracelet sends us back to the hub—in our world. Once we’re there, Pickford is gone. The Sanitarium is gone. Vinkmeir is cut off.”
Andrew cursed under his breath. “So why are we still here?”
Fox’s voice was cold, steady. “Because if we run now, we learn nothing. We leave Pickford behind, but it follows us in memory. We’ll never know what he wanted, why he cages boys, why he twists names. We can’t just vanish—we have to escape. On our terms.”
LB leaned forward, his face grim. “If you break out of here, you’ll be the first in years. Boys dream of it, whisper about it, but none succeed. If you do… you’ll prove he doesn’t own you.”
The dormitory settled into uneasy silence. Outside, footsteps echoed in the hall, guards patrolling. A door slammed somewhere deeper in the Sanitarium. A boy whimpered in his sleep.
LB whispered, “Tomorrow, he’ll call you Boggs again. He’ll try to make you believe it. Don’t let him. Hold on to who you are. That’s the only way out.”
Fox stared at the ceiling, his jaw tight. “I’m not Boggs. I never was. I’m Fox Smith. And I’ll prove it.”
Nathan whispered, “Then tomorrow, we plan. Tomorrow, we escape.”
Michael closed the journal, his hands trembling. “And if it fails… we use the bracelet. We go home.”
LB’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “If you can.”
The boys drifted into uneasy sleep, their dreams filled with corridors, cages, and names that weren’t theirs. The Sanitarium breathed around them, alive with whispers and unseen eyes.
But beneath the dread, a decision had been made.
They would not vanish.
They would escape.
And they would leave Pickford behind.
The morning bell rang hollow again, but this time the boys were ready. LB had whispered the plan through the night, his voice low and urgent.
“Guards change at the second bell,” he said. “That’s when the halls are weakest. We move then.”
Fox nodded, his jaw tight. “We don’t vanish. We break out. We leave Pickford behind.”
Michael touched the bracelet beneath his sleeve, its faint glow hidden. “And if it fails?”
Fox’s eyes burned. “Then we use it. But only if we must.”
The second bell tolled. The guards shifted, their boots echoing down the hall. LB motioned, and the boys slipped from their beds, moving silently across the dormitory.
The door creaked open. The corridor stretched long and dim, lined with doors that whispered with muffled cries. The air smelled of antiseptic and rust.
Nathan whispered, “Which way?”
LB pointed. “Toward the courtyard. Past the examination rooms. If we reach the outer gate, we’re free.”
Andrew muttered, “Free until the King’s men catch us again.”
Fox’s voice was cold. “Then we keep running.”
They passed doors with small windows, each revealing fragments of horror: boys strapped to chairs, doctors scribbling notes, instruments gleaming under lamps. One boy stared out at them, his eyes hollow, his lips moving silently.
Michael shivered. “We can’t leave them.”
LB’s voice was sharp. “We can’t save them. Not now. If you stop, you’ll join them.”
Fox pulled him forward. “We escape first. Then we fight.”
The door to the courtyard loomed ahead, its iron frame heavy, its lock thick. Two guards stood watch, their rifles gleaming.
LB whispered, “This is it. We take them down, or we don’t leave.”
Andrew’s stomach twisted. “We’re just kids.”
Fox’s jaw tightened. “Not anymore.”
They moved as one. Nathan hurled a stone, striking the lamp above the guards. Glass shattered, sparks flew. In the confusion, Fox lunged, slamming into one guard. Andrew grabbed the rifle, swinging it wildly. Michael pulled the door open, its hinges screaming.
LB shouted, “Run!”
They spilled into the courtyard, the night air sharp and cold. The outer gate loomed ahead, its bars tall, its lock massive. Behind them, alarms rang, voices shouted, boots thundered.
Nathan gasped, “We’ll never break it!”
Michael raised his sleeve, the bracelet glowing faintly. “Then we use this!”
Fox’s voice cut through the chaos. “Not yet! We’re almost there!”
LB’s eyes gleamed. “Choose, boys. Break the gate—or vanish.”
The courtyard roared with chaos. Guards surged from the halls, rifles raised. The boys stood at the gate, torn between two paths: fight their way out, or vanish into the hub, leaving Pickford behind forever.
Fox’s hand hovered over the lock. Michael’s hand hovered over the bracelet.
The choice was theirs.