The Hive

Chapter 5
Chapter 4

The morning of the third day dawned unexpectedly clear. Not with the familiar awakening of a heavy head and bitter taste that Benjamin had grown accustomed to over the past months. This was different—a light, almost weightless return from sleep, as if he hadn't been sleeping but floating somewhere between worlds.

He opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting golden patterns on the wall. The patterns moved and shimmered, resembling honeycomb. Benjamin blinked. No, just a trick of the light.

Strange. Usually his first morning thought was: "Why the hell am I still alive?" Then checking his phone (how many new rejections?), then the dull ache of realizing another meaningless day lay ahead.

But today... today was different.

He sat up in bed, expecting the familiar crack in his back. Nothing. He turned his head—his neck moved easily, without strain. He stretched cautiously, remembering yesterday's surprise—and froze in amazement. When had he last woken without pain?

The bear sat beside him, watching his owner as usual.

"Good morning, buddy," Benjamin said, and his own voice seemed higher. He cleared his throat. No, just morning hoarseness. "Seems their program really works."

He sat on the edge of the bed. The floor beneath his bare feet was warm—heated? Or just warmed by the sun through the window. He stood, and the world swayed. Not from weakness—from a strange sensation of lightness. As if gravity had loosened its grip by a few percent.

It's all the vitamins, he told himself. And proper sleep. Nothing surprising.

But inside, as usual, the worm of worry made itself known. Too good. Too fast. In real life, things don't work this way—fall asleep a sick loser, wake up a healthy optimist.

In the bathroom, a surprise awaited him. On the shelf next to two toothbrushes appeared a third—small, pink, with a unicorn design. Clearly intended for children.

He picked it up, turned it in his hands. Soft bristles, comfortable handle, but for a small hand. A note was attached: "In case the previous one seems too harsh. With care, S."

"Too harsh?" he muttered, looking back and forth between his toothbrush and the one with the bee. "Is this some kind of hint?"

But when he started brushing with his own, he understood—the bristles really did scratch his gums painfully. Strange, he hadn't noticed before. Strange, it hadn't been like this before.

He spat out the foam. His gaze fell on the reflection in the mirror, and Benjamin froze in surprise. Without a doubt, it was his face, but... different. Not dramatically, but noticeably. Smoother skin. The crow's feet almost gone. His beard grew unevenly, quite sparse in places.

"Wow," was all he could say to himself, shaving the sparse growth. "Good sleep, vitamins, fresh air. Nothing supernatural... And all in just one day..."

The razor glided easily over his skin. As if the hair had become thinner, softer.

The clothes prepared the night before fit very strangely. The t-shirt hung loose on his shoulders, though it had fit yesterday. The pants were clearly too wide. He looked at the label—seemed to be his size. But then why...

Must have stretched, he decided, tightening the drawstring on the waist. And they said they had a good eye for sizes.

Leaving his room, he nearly collided with Lucas. The boy stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He wore the same jeans and bee t-shirt, but his expression... like yesterday, the usual mask worn by almost all staff in almost every hotel in the world.

"Good morning," Lucas said, and a smile appeared on his face with visible effort. "How did you sleep?"

"Great. Almost too well."

The boy nodded.

"Today is our most important day. The body begins to... adapt."

"To what?"

Lucas shrugged.

"To rest. To the absence of stress. The body remembers what it's like not to be in constant tension. Sometimes the reaction can be... unexpected."

They walked to the stairs. Benjamin noticed he was walking differently somehow. Lighter? Faster? No, more like... bouncing? He consciously slowed his pace, trying to walk "like an adult."

"Tour," Lucas said unexpectedly. "I promised to show you everything. Ready to see the real 'Hive'?"

"I thought what you showed me the first day was real?"

The boy smirked.

"You saw the facade. The pretty wrapper. But every hive has combs. Deep, dark, full of secrets. Want to take a peek?"

Benjamin tensed.

"Is it safe?" he asked, and it came out somehow childishly awkward, making him blush slightly.

"Safety is a relative concept. But there won't be any harm. Just... knowledge. Whether you want to know is up to you." Lucas smiled mysteriously, clearly enjoying adding so much intrigue.

They descended to the first floor. In the dining room, Michael was already having breakfast, humming something under his breath. Before him was a bowl of porridge and a child's spill-proof cup.

"Good morning!" he exclaimed cheerfully, noticing Benjamin. "Look what they gave me!"

He lifted the cup—bright, with cartoon bees, with a special spout.

"Sarah says I spilled juice three times yesterday. Now I have a special cup! Very convenient!"

Benjamin noticed that Michael's manner of speaking had changed. Simpler. Shorter sentences. And that cup...

"You'll get one too if you're careless," Lucas said quietly. "First the cup. Then the special plate. Then... By the way, since we're here, maybe we should have breakfast?" The boy's mood shifted again.

"You know, I'm not really hungry," Benjamin replied, glancing at Michael wolfing down his porridge.

They left the dining room and turned right, walked a couple of meters, went up the stairs and turned into a small corridor Benjamin hadn't noticed before. Narrow, with a low ceiling, lit by dim lamps.

"Service area," the boy explained. "Guests aren't usually brought here."

They passed several doors. Behind one came quiet singing—a lullaby? Behind another—rhythmic creaking, as if someone was rocking in a chair.

"What's in there?" Benjamin asked.

"Special therapy rooms. For those who need... additional help." Lucas stopped at a slightly open door. He peeked inside, then stepped back. "You can look. But quietly."

Benjamin quietly approached and peered through the narrow gap.

Inside was a room that looked like... a nursery? But for an adult. A large bed with high sides. Pastel wallpaper with clouds. In the corner—a shelf with toys. And in the rocking chair...

He recognized the profile. Robert. But not the Robert he had seen yesterday. This Robert sat with his legs tucked up, sucking his thumb. He wore... a onesie? One piece, with feet, similar to what lay in Benjamin's room. In his arms—a worn plush rabbit.

Sarah sat beside him. She sang quietly, stroking Robert's head. He swayed to the rhythm of her singing, eyes half-closed.

Benjamin recoiled from the door.

"What... what's wrong with him?"

"Regression therapy," Lucas answered calmly, as if there was nothing strange about it. "Robert doesn't sleep well at night. Nightmares. Memories of his past life. Sarah helps him calm down before starting the day."

"But he's... he's sucking his thumb!"

"So what?" The boy's voice was impassive. "It calms him. Makes him happy. Is that bad?"

"But he's a grown man!"

"On the outside—yes. But inside? Inside he's a little boy who just wants his mother to sing him a lullaby."

The door opened wider. Sarah came out with a tray.

"Boys," she said with mild reproach. "You shouldn't be peeking. It violates our guests' privacy."

"Sorry, Aunt Sarah," Lucas quickly replied. "I was showing Mr. Wilson our facilities."

She shifted her gaze to Benjamin. Appraising, studying. It lingered on his waist, where he had tightened his pants.

"Clothes getting too big? That's normal. Stress leaves, the body changes. I'll bring you a smaller set."

"Thank you, but..."

"And don't forget," she interrupted. "Today after lunch is mandatory quiet hour. For all guests. No exceptions."

"I don't nap during the day."

"You don't have to sleep, you can just lie down," her smile widened. "But the body knows what it needs."

She came closer, reached out and stroked Benjamin's cheek. The touch was warm, maternal.

"Don't worry, Benjamin. We just want to help. Inside each of us lives a little child. And our task is to let them feel safe."

Benjamin wanted to pull away but couldn't. The touch was too... right?

"Now run along, boys. Show him the library, Lucas. And don't be late for lunch."

Run along, boys. As if he and Lucas were the same age.

They walked down the corridor in silence. Benjamin tried to catch Lucas's eye, but he stubbornly looked straight ahead.

"Is it like this with everyone?" he finally asked.

"What exactly?" Lucas didn't turn around.

"Regression therapy. Does everyone go through it?"

"Only those who need it," came the mechanical answer.

"And how do they determine who needs it?"

Lucas stopped. For several seconds he stood with his back to Benjamin, who could see the boy clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Miss Hart knows," he finally said. "She always knows what each guest needs."

And walked on again.

The library indeed contained mostly children's books. Bright covers, large print.

"I can recommend this one," Lucas took a book from the shelf. "The Adventures of the Brave Little Bear. Many guests find it... calming."

He held out the book, and their eyes met. For a moment the mask cracked—anguish flickered in the boy's eyes. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something.

"Lucas..." Benjamin began.

"I have to go," the boy said sharply. "I have many other duties."

But he didn't move. He stood, clutching the book, fighting something inside himself.

"The honey here... it..." The words burst out against his will.

"What about the honey?"

Lucas paled, stepped back.

"Nothing. Forget it. I really have to go."

And he ran out of the library, leaving Benjamin holding the book.

Somewhere deep in the house a bell rang, inviting all guests to the dining room.

The soup smelled wonderful. Vegetables, herbs, and of course, honey. Always honey.

"And after lunch—quiet hour!" Robert reminded everyone cheerfully. "I've already chosen a book. About a baby elephant's adventures. Sarah will read to me before sleep."

Read before sleep. To a grown man.

Amelia snorted, but without her former sarcasm.

"Children's books," she said, envy audible in her voice. "I took one yesterday. Just out of curiosity. 'The Little Prince.' Haven't read it since childhood."

"And?" Sarah asked.

"I... cried," Amelia admitted. "As if I understood for the first time. About the fox. About the rose. About being responsible for those we've tamed."

She fell silent, staring at her plate.

"I haven't tamed anyone. And no one has tamed me. Thirty-eight years, and I haven't tamed anyone."

Silence hung over the table. Even Michael stopped humming.

"Here you can start fresh," Sarah said softly. "Learn to trust. To open up. To tame and be tamed."

Lucas appeared in the doorway, with Benjamin behind him.

"Sorry for being late, Aunt Sarah. Benjamin and I got caught up in the library," he said brightly.

"No harm done, boys. Sit down and eat."

Benjamin took a spoon and began eating. The taste was simple and clean, as if his taste buds had been cleansed of years of coffee, fast food, and disappointment buildup.

"Tasty?" Michael asked. There was a drop of soup on his chin, but he didn't seem to care.

"Very," Benjamin admitted.

Silence settled over the dining room, broken only by the clinking of spoons against bowls.

"And now—quiet hour," Sarah announced. "Everyone upstairs to your rooms."

Benjamin was about to start protesting, but someone beat him to it.

"I don't want to sleep!" Lucas suddenly burst out.

Everyone turned to him. The boy stood, fists clenched, chin stubbornly raised.

"Lucas," steel appeared in Sarah's voice. "We've discussed this."

"But I'm a helper! I have different rules!"

"Today you rest. Miss Hart's orders."

"It's not fair! I'm not little! I'm not like them!"

He pointed at the guests, desperation in his voice. Sarah approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder. Lucas flinched as if struck.

"Don't touch me!"

"Lucas Martinez!" Sarah's voice turned icy. "How dare you behave this way?"

"How should I behave?" the boy shouted. "Pretend everything's normal? That this place is normal? That what you do to people is normal?"

The sound of a slap cut through the air. Not hard, but sharp. Lucas pressed his hand to his cheek, tears in his eyes.

"To the corner," Sarah ordered. "Immediately."

"But..."

"To the corner!"

Everyone watched silently as Lucas trudged to the corner of the dining room. He stood facing the wall, head down. His shoulders trembled.

"I apologize for this scene," Sarah turned to the guests. "Children sometimes forget themselves."

"He's just a child," Benjamin found himself saying. "He works here. Helps you. Why are you treating him this way?"

Sarah looked at him coldly.

"Mr. Wilson, you've only been here a few days. You don't know the whole situation."

"I know enough to see you're humiliating him."

"I'm educating him. There's a difference."

"Educating? By putting him in the corner like a five-year-old?"

"Benjamin, sit down."

"No. I won't be silent when..."

"Enough."

The voice came from the corner. Lucas turned, wiping away tears.

"Please, Benjamin. Don't. Aunt Sarah is right. I was behaving badly."

"But you were just..."

"I was being whiny," Lucas interrupted in a mechanical voice. "Shouting. Being rude. Children shouldn't behave that way."

In his eyes was a plea—don't continue, don't make it worse.

"There's a good boy," Sarah approached him, patted his head. Lucas didn't flinch, though his whole body tensed. "Now go to your room. Rest. After quiet hour we'll discuss your behavior."

"Yes, Aunt Sarah."

At the door, Lucas turned around. He looked at Benjamin with a long gaze full of gratitude and pain. Silently mouthed: "Thank you."

And left.

"Well," Sarah clapped her hands as if nothing had happened. "Everyone else—to your rooms. Quiet hour isn't canceled."

Everyone dispersed silently. Amelia threw Benjamin a strange look—either approving or warning.

In the corridor, Michael caught up with Benjamin.

"You shouldn't have argued with Sarah," he whispered. "She doesn't like being contradicted."

"It wasn't fair."

"Many things here aren't fair. But we didn't come for fairness. We came for peace."

With these words, Michael headed to his room, leaving Benjamin alone.

Already at his door, Benjamin heard a quiet knock. He turned—Lucas was peeking out from behind the opposite door.

"Quickly," he whispered.

Benjamin slipped into the boy's room. It was small, neat. On the walls—no posters, just a schedule of duties. Books on the desk.

"Thank you," Lucas said, closing the door. "No one's stood up for me in a long time."

"I couldn't stay silent."

"I know." The boy sat on the bed, pulled his knees to his chest. "But now Sarah will watch you more closely. You're under suspicion."

"Of what?"

"Resistance."

Lucas stood, went to the desk, quickly wrote something on a piece of paper.

"Here. Read it when you're alone. And... be careful. Especially with the food. Especially with dessert."

He handed over the folded paper.

"Lucas, what's going on here?"

The boy shook his head.

"Not now. Not here. The walls have ears. But... thank you. For seeing me as a person."

"You are a person."

A bitter smile appeared on Lucas's face.

"Sometimes I doubt that myself. Now go. If Sarah finds out you're here..."

Benjamin clutched the note in his fist and left. In his room, he lay on the bed.

Outside the window, birds sang. The house fell into quiet hour silence. But sleep wouldn't come. Before his eyes stood Lucas—a small figure with head held high.

Finally he unfolded the note.

"There will be a check during quiet hour today. Pretend to be asleep. They check who's yielding and who's resisting. Be smarter. Don't give them a reason.

P.S. Thank you again. You have no idea how much it means. L."

A check... Benjamin frowned. In his mind, this place was beginning to look more like a prison than a recovery center. Half an hour passed. Then—the click of a lock. Quiet footsteps. Someone's breathing above him. A touch to his hair—light, almost imperceptible.

"Sleeping," Sarah whispered. "Good. So he's not hopeless."

The footsteps retreated. The door closed.

Benjamin opened his eyes. His heart was pounding. What kind of check? What were they looking for?

The rest of the day passed in a strange atmosphere of normalcy. Afternoon snack, creative activities (Benjamin refused to sculpt, citing a headache), dinner. Lucas appeared and disappeared—the perfect little helper. But several times their eyes met, and in the boy's eyes Benjamin saw gratitude.

After dinner, everyone watched a cartoon. On screen, a brave puppy was saving his friends. Simple plot, bright colors, predictable happy ending.

Lucas sat nearby—not next to him, but close enough.

"Silly, isn't it?" he whispered in the darkness.

"A bit."

"But it draws you in. First it seems silly. Then amusing. Then you wait for the sequel. And then... then you don't remember what you watched before."

Fatigue sounded in his voice.

"Everything will be alright," Benjamin whispered.

Lucas turned to him. In the dim light, his face seemed even younger.

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes."

The boy turned back to the screen, but Benjamin saw his shoulders tremble. As if he was holding back tears.

When everyone was going to bed, Lucas lingered.

"Tomorrow..." he began. "Tomorrow might be a difficult day. For you. Miss Hart returns from her visit. She'll want to meet you."

"And that's bad?"

"It's..." Lucas searched for words. "She can see right through people. See what they need. And give it to them. Even if they didn't ask."

"Lucas..."

"Good night."

The boy left quickly, leaving Benjamin with an anxious premonition.

At night he couldn't fall asleep for a long time. Outside the window crickets chirped, somewhere far away an owl hooted. Normal sounds. But somehow disturbing.

The bear sat on the pillow.

"What do you say, buddy?" Benjamin whispered. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

The bear was silent. But in his single button eye seemed to be reflected understanding.

Tomorrow would be a new day. A meeting with the mysterious Miss Hart. And possibly, answers to questions.

Or new questions without answers.

Somewhere deep in the house a lullaby played. Quiet, soothing. Promising peace.

Benjamin closed his eyes, trying not to think about the price of that peace.

And about the boy who had seen too much for his eleven years.

But sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts circled like bees around a hive. Benjamin got up, went to the window. The garden dozed under the moon. And there, under the apple tree, he saw a solitary figure.

Without thinking, he threw on a sweater and left his room. The house slept. Only the floorboards creaked quietly underfoot.

Getting out was easier than he thought—the door wasn't locked. The night air was cool, smelling of flowers and honey. Always honey.

Lucas sat under the apple tree, hugging his knees. He didn't turn when Benjamin approached.

"Can't sleep?" Benjamin asked quietly, sitting down beside him.

"I rarely sleep at night," the boy answered. "It's quieter at night. You can think."

A long pause.

"Can I ask you something?" Benjamin finally said.

Lucas nodded.

"Are you happy here?"

A long pause. The boy plucked a blade of grass, began slowly tearing it to pieces.

"What is happiness? Absence of pain? Then yes. Robert is happy. Michael is happy. Soon Amelia will be happy too."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I can give."

Lucas stood, brushed off his jeans. But didn't leave—stood looking at the house.

"You know what's strangest? Sometimes I look at new guests and think—maybe this is how it should be? Maybe they really will find peace here. Maybe oblivion is happiness."

"Oblivion?"

Lucas flinched, as if regretting saying too much. He turned to Benjamin, and in his eyes was the torment of choice.

"You're not like the others. The rest arrive already broken. But you... you're still fighting. And that..."

"What?"

"That reminds me of one guest," Lucas whispered. "Someone I've tried to forget."

Somewhere inside the house a light came on.

"I have to go," Lucas said quickly. "Don't tell Sarah you saw me here. Please."

"Of course."

Lucas took a few steps, stopped.

"Benjamin? Be careful. Especially with..." He didn't finish, shook his head and walked quickly to the house.

Almost out of sight, Lucas stopped, turned and said quietly: "Good night," and waved his thin hand.

The house was quiet. Only the old walls creaked, and somewhere far away the lullaby still played.

Tomorrow I'll have to find out why the hell they're breaking into rooms, Benjamin muttered through the sleep enveloping him.