The first thing I woke up with was the taste of metal on my tongue. That faint, bitter tang that never seemed to leave me in this place. My throat felt raw, my body heavy, and my chest thudded with the memory of last night—the note. That slip of paper pressed against the cold floor, the words etched into my skin like they’d been carved there: Trust no one. Not even yourself.

For a long time I lay still, staring at the ceiling that was painted in the kind of darkness that never shifted, ...