The night at Sanctuary felt different from the nights David was used to. There was no sound of vehicles from the highway, no honking, no city hum that had been the background noise of his life for years. All he could hear was rain pattering on the building's roof and the wind occasionally brushing against the windowpane like someone knocking from outside. David stood in front of his bedroom window, gazing into the darkness beyond the glass. There wasn't much to see. Only the shadows of trees moving slowly in the wind and a few garden lights swallowed by the fog. His room was simple, far simpler than the hotel rooms he usually stayed in on business trips. A wooden bed, a small table, a wardrobe, a chair in the corner, and a painting of mountains hanging above the headboard. There was no television. No minibar. No computer. There wasn't even a wall clock. David had only just realized how strange that was after standing there for nearly ten minutes. As if this place had been deliberately designed to keep people from knowing the time.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up.
No Service.
David let out a long breath. He walked to the other side of the room and held the phone up high, hoping to find even a single bar of signal. Nothing. He turned the screen back on, tried switching Airplane Mode on and off, then turned off Wi-Fi. Nothing changed. His phone had become almost useless. For a moment, he felt like going downstairs and asking someone for a connection. But then he remembered what Mara had said about there being no interruptions while participating in the program. The form he had signed did, in fact, include rules about using electronic devices. Participants were asked to limit communication with the outside world during the retreat so they could focus completely on the healing process. David had thought the rule was excessive when he read it a few weeks ago. Now, in a place that didn't even have a signal, the rule felt far more real.
There was a knock at the door.
David turned.
“David?”
Mara's voice.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
There was no answer after that. David waited a few seconds, then heard footsteps moving away. He turned his attention back to his phone. Something made him reluctant to put it away. Maybe because the little device was the only connection left between him and the world he had left behind. A world filled with work, meetings, emails, bills, and people who knew him as the successful David. A world where everyone still believed he was capable of controlling his life.
Even though he knew that wasn't true.
David put the phone in the desk drawer and closed it.
Beneath the drawer was a white envelope.
He stopped.
The envelope hadn't been there when he first entered. At least, he was sure he hadn't seen it. David pulled the drawer open again and took out the envelope. His name was written across the front.
DAVID ARYANA.
In handwriting.
He stared at it for a moment before opening it. Inside was a small sheet of paper.
Don't be afraid of what you're going to remember.
That was all.
There was no sender's name.
David read the sentence twice.
Then three times.
His heart began beating a little faster.
He turned the paper over. Blank.
“Probably part of the program,” he muttered.
David crumpled the paper, but he didn't throw it away. He put it in his wallet.
When he left his room, the hallway was already lit by dim yellow lights. Several doors along the corridor were tightly closed. David checked his room number, then followed a small sign marked DINING HALL. The farther he walked, the more he realized that the building was much larger than it appeared from the outside. The hallway branched off in several directions. At the end of one corridor stood an old wooden door carved with the same symbol he had seen on the gate earlier.
David slowed his pace.
The symbol was a circle split down the middle by a vertical line.
He had no idea what it meant.
As he approached, he heard footsteps behind him.
David turned.
A man stood at the end of the corridor.
He looked to be around forty. He was thin, his hair cut extremely short nearly all over, and he wore the same white clothes as the other staff members. The man stared at David without expression.
“The dining hall is that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction.
David nodded. “I thought this was the way.”
“It isn't.”
The man remained where he was.
David felt slightly embarrassed at being caught lost. “Sorry.”
The man didn't answer. He simply walked past David.
When the man was right beside him, David caught a faint scent of burning wood coming from his clothes.
“Don't go in there,” he said quietly.
David turned.
The man was already walking away.
“Why?”
The man didn't answer.
A few seconds later, he disappeared around the corner.
David looked at the wooden door in front of him again.
There was something strange about the place.
Not because the door was old.
But because there wasn't a single sign indicating what lay behind it.
No room name.
No number.
Only the symbol.
David finally turned around and headed for the dining hall.
The dining hall was much busier than he had expected. Around twelve people sat around two long tables. Almost all of them were speaking in low voices. A few turned when David entered, but no one greeted him. David felt like a new kid walking into class halfway through the semester. He looked for an empty seat and chose one at the end of a table.
A short-haired woman sitting across from him smiled.
“You're David?”
David nodded.
“I'm Lena.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Twelve days.”
Lena smiled again.
“And?”
David frowned. “And what?”
“Do you feel better?”
The simple question left David silent.
“I'm not sure yet.”
Lena gave a small laugh. “Good answer.”
“Why?”
“Because new people are usually too afraid to admit that they actually hope this place can save them.”
David looked at her.
“Do you believe this place can save you?”
Lena didn't answer right away.
She picked up the glass of water in front of her, took a small sip, then said, “I didn't used to.”
“And now?”
Lena's expression changed.
“Now I'm not sure I want to be saved.”
Before David could ask anything more, a small bell rang from the front of the room.
Ding.
All conversation stopped.
David turned.
A man had just entered through a side door.
He looked to be around fifty. His black hair was neatly cut, with a few gray strands at his temples. He wore simple white clothes without a single accessory. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance. Yet the moment he entered, the entire room fell silent.
The man walked slowly to the center of the room.
Then he smiled.
“Good evening.”
Everyone answered almost in unison.
“Good evening, Adrian.”
David watched him.
There was something about the man's voice.
Calm.
Deep.
And strangely familiar.
Adrian looked at each participant in turn before his eyes finally settled on David.
For no more than two seconds.
Yet those two seconds made David feel something he couldn't explain.
As if the man had known him long before tonight.
“Welcome, David,” he said.
David didn't answer.
Adrian gave a faint smile.
“You don't need to be afraid.”
A shiver ran up the back of David's neck.
Because he had never said he was afraid.