The hare's head was heavy in Lorie's hand. A grotesque trophy of her survival, a piece of twisted creation. With a deliberate motion, she tossed it into the closet, the metallic thud echoing like a final punctuation mark to their nightmare.

  Rico watched her, his face a map of trauma and disbelief.

  "What now?" he asked, the question hanging between them like a fragile thread.

  Lorie met his gaze. "I don't know."

  Rico's voice broke slightly. "I know I'm never going to look at robots the same."

  "True," she agreed, a sardonic edge cutting through her exhaustion.

  The school bell rang - a sharp, mechanical sound that sliced through the silence. Normal life reasserting itself, as if the horror they'd just experienced was nothing more than a momentary disruption.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  "Well, let's go," Rico said.

  In the hallway, Lorie suddenly stopped. Something wasn't right. Something was unfinished.

  "What?" Rico turned, already sensing her tension.

  "I left my stuff in the machines room," she said. "Go on, I'll meet up with you in class."

  Rico nodded, grateful for the chance to escape, to return to some semblance of normalcy. He ran off, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.

  The machines room, Partially completed robots. Scattered blueprints. The air hung heavy with the scent of oil and electricity.

  "Where is it?" Lorie muttered.

  The closet loomed.

  Lorie approached slowly, each step deliberate. Her hand reached for the door handle.

  The door opened. Lights flickered on.

  Her belongings lay scattered. And there, just beside them, the remains of the hare. Mechanical. Broken. But something about it felt... waiting.

  She grabbed her stuff, her movements mechanical, controlled.

  "Silly wabbit," Lorie said, a phrase that was part taunt, part memory.

  She shut the door.