Freedom. It was so close that Atropé could taste it – bitter, burning, like the poison flowing through her veins. She raced down the dimly lit corridor, her bare feet slapping against the cold metal floor. Sirens wailed in the distance, their mournful howls echoing off the walls, but she paid no heed. She had to keep moving. She had to escape before they caught her again. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and fear – her own fear, mingled with the lifeless sterility of the laboratory. The walls, covered in smooth white panels, were interrupted by doors leading to other cells or labs. Red emergency lights flashed, casting ominous shadows that seemed to move, watching her, as if the walls were alive. Her mind raced faster than her legs. Whispers filled her ears – voices from the past, from her hallucinations. "You're broken," they taunted. "A failure. They'll never let you go." Atropé shook her head fiercely, driving them away. Not today. Today she would prove them wrong. Today she would be free. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement – a dark figure flickered at the edge of her vision. Atropé spun around, but there was nothing there. Another trick of her shattered mind. She couldn't trust her senses, not now. She needed to focus on escaping. Ahead, a heavy armored door blocked her path. Atropé skidded to a halt, her breath ragged. A keypad glowed beside it. She didn't know the code, but she had other ways. Closing her eyes, Atropé concentrated, feeling the familiar tingling in her fingers – her body was producing a corrosive substance. She pressed her palm against the keypad, watching as the plastic melted and bubbled under her touch. A sharp smell hit her nose, but she didn’t let go until the keypad sparked, and the door groaned open. She surged forward, her heart pounding with exhilaration. She was closer. She could feel it. There had to be stairs somewhere leading up to the surface. Turning the corner, she saw a sign: "Emergency Exit." An arrow pointed to a staircase. Yes. Yes! Atropé dashed to the door, flung it open, and began to climb. The stairs were steep and narrow, but she took them two at a time, ignoring the pain in her legs and bleeding feet. But doubts, cold and sticky, began to seep into her mind. What if they were waiting for her up there? What if it was another trap, another experiment? She froze for a moment, listening. From below came the sound of footsteps – heavy boots, approaching quickly. They were coming for her. Fear spurred her on. She had to hurry. Casting aside her doubts, she continued to climb, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. The sirens wailed louder, their sound grating on her ears, but she didn’t listen. Freedom was ahead. It felt like an eternity before she saw it – the door at the top of the stairs, slightly ajar, with a thin strip of light seeping through the crack. Her heart leapt. She was almost there. But just as she reached for the door, a stranger appeared in the doorway. Atropé froze, her eyes widening in surprise and suspicion. The stranger wasn't dressed like the scientists; she wore ordinary clothes, and her expression showed shock rather than malice. But Atropé knew appearances could be deceiving. Her body tensed, ready to fight or flee. The toxins in her blood surged, her skin prickling, ready to release poison. "Who are you?" Atropé demanded, her voice hoarse from long silence, trembling with emotion. "Are you with them?"