Hey everyone!

I'm so sorry for the late update, I've been really stressed with exam week and

didn't have time to post this weeked, but I'll try and post again this

weekend if I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know if you do!

No.

No, of course I couldn't. There's no way on earth I would actually even consider leaving Marinette behind. If I escaped, knowing that she was still in this treacherous place, then I would be trapped outside of a place that I wanted to be rather than free. Because whether I'm trapped in a cell or as free as a bird outside the cell, I know that as long as I have Marinette by my side, we can be anywhere and be as free as we wish.

As long as we're together.

So I don't run for it. In fact, I'm not even tempted. I can only think of those enticing bluebell eyes, their unspoken kindness the gravity that pulls me towards staying and the incredibly fearless heart of the girl who empowers me to fight for her. To win this battle for her.

I stand loyally by Lila's side, watching her movements as she unlocks the very last door in the hallway, her eyes flickering back and forth from me to the lock to make sure that I don't move. I focus on the lock, a feeling that I'm going to need to remember it gnawing at the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden I'm extremely grateful that I snapped out of my trance as soon as I did. I notice that the lock is in fact a keypad with letters on it. Whenever Lila presses one of the keys it lights up in white. I pay close attention to the order she is pressing them in. She starts with a 'H' and then presses more and more letters in, until I realise she's forming a word, but it's one that I don't know the meaning of.

'HAWKMOTH'

Frowning, I remember the word and as I try to figure out what it could possibly mean, Lila presses the button in the corner of the keypad. It flashes a bright green and omits a small, almost inaudible beeping sound. With a click, the door slides open, and Lila ushers me inside. She quickly glances to both sides of her before slipping in too. As the door closes, she breathes a small sigh of relief, and if I wasn't watching her facial expression closely, I wouldn't have noticed the spark of fear in her eyes. But unfortunately for her, I was.

And I did.

She notices me staring at her, and raises her eyebrows, smiling slyly as if she thinks that I was staring at her in some other way. I spin around, extremely embarrassed, begin to take in the surrounding of the room that I'm in.

Almost immediately after I've looked around, I can tell with certainty that this room belongs to my father. It's exactly the type of working space that he would have: purposeful and yet at the same time classy and expensive, with lavish touches all around the room.

From the ceiling, a colossal chandelier is hanging, a huge silver circle of metal that holds four bronze flames, and underneath it a smaller silver wheel that glitters with the diamonds that have been encrusted in it. It casts a dim lighting throughout the room, making every part of the room seem more mysterious and, well, evil.

There is a black leather chaise lounge to the right of me up against the wall. When I'm looking at it, it appears as though it has never been used before, but knowing my father, that's just the way he'd keep things. He's definitely been here. Surveying the rest of the room, I see multiple steel grey filing cabinets lining the left wall, some of the drawers open. I peer inside when Lila has her back turned.

One of the drawers is full of wooden test tube racks, each one with vials and test tubes full of a red substance. Blood. Next to each one, there are labels, that have been scratched on with ink.

Adrien Week 1

Adrien Week 2

Adrien Week 6

Adrien Week 9

Marinette Week 1

Next to every single tube, there are test tubes from most of the weeks that I've been here, and for Marinette's too. Why they need our blood and what they're going to do with it I have no idea. And that's what I need to find out.

In other drawers, there are various medical records and fact files on Marinette and I. I carefully pick mine up, making sure my gloves are on tightly. As I flip through the pages, scanning everything that has been written in my father's cursive handwriting, I realise how in depth these are. There are so many things about me written on these pages. Memories from my past, descriptions of the effects of my abilities, and a description of the day my mother died. I read the beginning, but the further I read, the worse it gets. Unable to bear it anymore, I slam the file shut and quickly put it back into the drawer, closing my eyes.

Another reminder of the monster that I am.

I'd almost forgotten.

I'm thinking about seeing if Marinette's file is in as much detail, but hesitate because there might be things in there from her past that she might not want me to know about. And I respect that, because I know that there are certainly things about my past that she might think differently if she knew about me. Who my father is, for example. I doubt she'd see me the same way if she knew...

Focus Adrien, focus, I reprimand myself, walking further forward into the centre of the room. There is a small desk in the middle of the room, with a stack of blank parchment and a pot of fountain pens. In the wastepaper bin underneath it, I notice that there are lots scrunched up pieces of paper that have been discarded quickly in what looks like some sort of desire to get something written down or solved. I have no idea what on earth my father would be writing in here, but I do know that if he is willing to guiltlessly organise for his son to be tortured for information, then it can't be anything good.

I walk past the desk, trailing my fingers over the top if it as I slowly walk forward. Quickly glancing around the rest of the room, my eyes stop on a painting hung high on the wall in front of me, making me realise how high this room actually is.

My eyes stop.

My heart stops.

The lump in my throat tells me to cry out loud. Holding back tears, I freeze, eyes lingering on the painting.

It's a painting of my father and I. And my mother. Back in the days before everything went to drastically wrong, when we were still a happy family, full of laughter, when life seemed like some sort of fairytale. But some stories don't end in happily ever after. Mine certainly hasn't. I stare at my own face, and I look so happy. Genuine, real happiness, and I almost don't believe that the boy in the picture is me. It just makes me yearn to see my mother again. Even just once. I pull the gloves tighter up my forearms.

Tearing my eyes away from the picture, I see that either side of the painting are two... symbols. Both identical in shape and size. Maybe some sort of insignia? I'm not sure at all. In the middle of each, there is a shape that reminds me of a butterfly. And a few inches further in from the outline, there is another circle of thin iron. They look strangely familiar, like I've seen them places before, so many places before.

Against the wall opposite me, there is an enormous wooden desk, varnished and pristine with two sets of drawers either side of it. There are more pieces of paper frantically strewn all over it, yet the main feature of the desk is the giant boards that have been set up on it. A large pin board made from cork is situated in the middle of the desk, with two other boards of the same size angled slightly outwards. On the middle board, there are multiple photos of me and Marinette which are held there by small pins. I see the photos of myself, remembering when I was living the moment that the photo is showing.

It's a picture of me huddled in the corner of the cell, eyes closed and head in my hands. I think that it must have been taken the day before Marinette was brought here. Even though I can't see my own face, I can see how I exhausted I looked, remembering how I hadn't slept for days before that photo was taken, I remember thinking about my mother and the look on my father's face when he commanded me to be taken here, the memories playing on repeat. The terrifying thing though, is the fact that I don't even recall someone taking the photo, and I don't recall hearing the feint click of a camera. It makes me wonder how much Lila and Father actually know about us and what happens in the cells.

There are pictures of Marinette too: a photo of her entering the cell, a picture of her trying to befriend me. A picture of... I remember most of the photos on here, but this one, I don't remember at all. It's a photo of both of us at night, but I'm asleep on the mattress in the cell and Marinette is curled up on the other side of the room, on the carpet of rubble, her back resting against the wall. She appears to be staring out of the window with her knees up against her chest. When I look closer, I see that she isn't looking out of the window. Her dark blue hair is leaning against the wall, and her expression is unlike any sadness I've ever seen. I've seen her both in pain and upset in the time that I've know her, I've seen her angry and hurt, but I don't think I've ever seen a look of extreme sadness quite like the expression she is wearing. There are tear streaks running down her cheeks and her eyes are red from excessive crying. Seeing this image of her just makes me more determined than I already am to see her again, and hopefully not add to that image of her sadness for much longer.

The two boards next to it are dedicated to us too: the left one of me and the right one of Marinette. On mine there are photos of the damage I can cause, as well as a picture of my face after I had been sent to the 'punishment' room and grilled for information about Marinette, and then another one after she had healed my face. On Marinette's board, there are pictures of her the night when she discovered that we are immune to each other, and photos of her when she repaired our cell and we were surrounded in her magic.

The last thing I notice about the room is on the same wall as the chaise lounge, there is another photo of my mother, which makes my heart clamour for her, but I'm focusing on the other picture. It's a giant roll of parchment that looks ancient, and one side has been written on in some code or language which I can't understand, but on the other side is what I think is a person, but they don't look very human at all. They are risen in front of a background that is made of purple smoke, and when I look at it, I am reminded of the sun. The person is purple and outlined in yellow, with a hungry, powerful scream drawn onto their face, their eyes and mouth illuminated by a white light. The image is captioned in my father's handwriting.

ABSOLUTE POWER

It sends a shiver down my spine. This must be what my father wants. It has to be.

Realising Lila has been here this whole time watching me, I spin back around to face her.

"Where are we?" I ask curiously.

She approaches me and leans back on her desk, smiling at me. It's really starting to freak me out.

"We, Adrien, are in the room where it all happens."