Laura, Emily, and I kept moving down the long hallway, its cold lamps casting a pale glow over the tiled floor. On both sides, doors stood lined up like silent sentinels — doors I had recently learned led to rooms where patients were kept.
People afflicted by strange illnesses, distortions of body and mind brought on by anomalies. I still wasn't sure if the treatments were actually working or if they were just a desperate attempt to hold back the inevitable. But one look at Emily's serious face and Laura's tense expression was enough to tell me things weren't going well.
As we walked, my eyes instinctively stopped on one of the doors. At first glance, it looked just like all the others, nothing about it standing out. Still, something made me keep staring at it for a few seconds.
A name was etched onto a small metal plaque: Jordan Davis. Probably the name of the patient inside, I assumed. It was the most logical explanation — though I had no real reason to stop there. Maybe it was just curiosity, or the strange feeling that this name shouldn't matter to me... and yet, somehow, it did.
I drifted away from the path Laura and Emily were taking, letting my steps slow until they were almost deliberate as I approached the door. The small glass panel, placed a bit higher than usual, offered a partial view of the inside, but for me, it felt like it was set at the perfect height.
If I were still trapped in my old body — the one with the frail frame of a ten-year-old — I probably wouldn't have seen anything but my own blurred reflection in the glass. But now, with my taller, sturdier body, every detail inside was clear to me.
I saw something in there — a shadow. Not just a dark shape: its body seemed to give off thin wisps of darkness, like smoke unraveling in the air. It was sitting on the floor, fiddling with a few toy cars, pushing them back and forth with a calm, almost hypnotic rhythm. Its size? Small — no bigger than a five- or six-year-old child.
I stood frozen, watching the figure's back, so absorbed in its play it almost looked innocent. But then, as if it had felt the weight of my stare, it turned. Its entire body, swallowed in darkness, kept radiating shadow, as though it were a living source of it.
Slowly, the figure turned toward me — every movement seemed to drag the air around with it, making the space feel even heavier. Then, two points of light flared to life, glowing like beacons in the void.
There was no face, no nose, no mouth or ears — not even anything that could really be called eyes. Just two incandescent orbs, round and fixed on me, as though they could pierce straight through my soul.
While I remained distracted, my eyes locked on the figure beyond the glass, I felt Emily's presence by my side. She had approached without me noticing, and her voice, quiet and tinged with melancholy, broke the heavy silence: "That's Jordan Davis. He got here just a few days ago" she said, and there was something in the way she said his name that made me glance at her: "According to his parents, his body ended up like this after a... strange incident"
Emily's gaze shifted away for a moment, as though she hesitated before continuing: "Jordan said he heard noises coming from the park near his house, when he was on his way back from a friend's place. He decided to follow the sound into the park... and that's all we know so far" Her voice dropped even lower, almost to a whisper: "The park's cameras just went out the moment he went in"
Emily paused, her eyes fixed on the still figure before us. Her voice was barely more than a whisper now, heavy with sorrow: "He still reacts to outside stimuli... but he's completely lost the ability to speak. Now he just... watches" She took a deep breath, as though her own words weighed too much: "We have no sign, nothing that guarantees he's still capable of feeling anything at all"
The figure — Jordan — stayed motionless in front of me, as though time itself had decided to stop around him. The two glowing points that passed for "eyes" didn't just reflect the light — they seemed to cut through it, like silent blades slicing the air and revealing everything they touched.
I kept staring at him, not entirely sure why. Maybe it was simple curiosity... or something deeper, a strange pull that held me there, unable to look away. The feeling was unsettling, but somehow... mesmerizing.
Then, while we stood there in silence, the figure did something unexpected: it slowly raised its right hand and began to wave at us. The gesture was simple, almost innocent — but its effect was devastating.
I saw Emily and Laura's expressions change instantly — their faces went pale, lips pressed tight, and their eyes darted away for a brief moment, as though that wave had dragged something to the surface, something they were trying to hide.
They looked as though they felt... guilty. Even if there was no direct reason for it, it was as if, suddenly, both of them carried the weight of a silent responsibility — a guilt that might not even be theirs, yet still managed to lodge itself deep in their hearts.
I kept staring at the figure for a few more seconds, as if waiting for her to move or say something, before finally forcing myself to look away. In the background, I heard Emily's and Laura's footsteps echo softly down the hallway as they moved away: "Let's go" Emily said without even turning around: "Sara's room is just ahead"
I glanced at Emily and Laura walking in front of me, then shifted my gaze back to the motionless figure, who kept silently staring at me. A moment later, I took a step back, putting some distance between myself and the door.
The last image I had of her was of her hands delicately touching the toys around her, as if that simple gesture was the only fragment of humanity she still held on to — a thin thread tying her to what she once was.
We passed several more doors, each revealing patients in different conditions — some seemingly stable, others in states that made my chest tighten, worse even than the shadow-boy I'd seen last time. Could I do anything for them? Maybe.
But according to Emily, cases like this were practically routine here. The longest the organization had ever gone without a new incident was four days — and that was considered almost a miracle.
In short, even if I somehow found a way to cure them — which, to be honest, seemed incredibly unlikely given everything I'd seen so far — new cases would just keep appearing. There was no real solution, only the chance to buy a little more time before the cycle started all over again.
A few moments later, Emily and Laura stopped in front of a door — identical to all the others in that cold, silent hallway. I slowed my pace too and let my gaze settle on the small metal plate on the door. "Sara Hale" The moment I read the name, a chill ran down my spine.
The pieces started to fall into place almost on their own, like my brain had been waiting for this moment to finish the puzzle. Sara... the name Victor had mentioned the last time I saw him. Her and her sister — the two names echoing in my mind — and suddenly everything made sense.
If she was here, then her presence in this place had a direct connection to the anomalies. And when I remembered the look Victor had given me that day — something between anger and hope — it became much clearer, almost screaming at me. Now I understood.
Emily and Laura exchanged a quick glance my way before locking eyes with each other, as if silently confirming something. Then Emily looked back at me, a faint smile appearing on her lips: "Let's go in. Chances are Victor is still with his sister" she said calmly.
I just nodded, unable to come up with an answer. My throat felt dry, as if any word I tried to speak would break apart in the air. Suddenly, a strange feeling started creeping over me — guilt.
It was almost ironic because, rationally, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't the one who caused this, I wasn't the one who left Victor's sister in that condition, whatever had happened to her.
Still, something inside me — something I didn't even know was there — started pressing against my chest, as if trying to convince me that, somehow, I shared the blame.
I swallowed down those thoughts and stayed quiet, just watching as Emily placed her hand on the doorknob. The soft click of the lock sounded louder than it should have in the hallway, and for some reason, I felt my body tense up.
As soon as the door opened, Emily and Laura stepped inside without hesitation. Of course, I followed them, keeping close behind Emily, alert to every step. Then a voice cut through the air — firm, and a little surprised: "Emily? Laura? What are you two doing here? As far as I know, I wasn't called in for an urgent case"
I stayed silent, absorbing every word Victor said as the weight of them settled in the air. Laura was the first to break the moment, her voice hesitant, as if she were carefully picking her words: "We're not here for that... it's complicated" she said, glancing away for a second.
I watched as Victor raised an eyebrow, his brow slightly furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. Beside me, Laura lifted her eyes and locked them on mine — silent, but with an expression that made it clear what she wanted me to do.
I sighed softly, feeling the weight of her gaze. A moment later, I stepped forward, coming out from behind Emily. Now completely in view, I saw Victor's expression change the instant he saw me. His eyes widened, startled — and then, in the next second, he stood up abruptly.
Almost instinctively, my eyes were drawn to the bed next to him. Lying on the sheets was a girl, maybe in her early teens, with features that strongly resembled Victor's — the same eye shape, the same hair color.
She looked as if she were in a deep sleep, breathing softly and almost fragilely. That was all I managed to register before Victor stepped forward, deliberately positioning himself between me and the girl, his body a protective barrier.
The gesture didn't seem casual — it was a silent message telling me not to come any closer. Then Victor's voice cut through the room, low and tense: "What is she doing here? How did she even get this far?"
As he spoke, Victor narrowed his eyes, looking from Emily to Laura, as if trying to pull the truth out of their faces. His expression was a mix of disbelief and warning: "Was it you two who brought her here?" he asked, his voice firmer now, almost a growl: "Why?"
Honestly, I didn't know if I should say anything. It felt like any move, any word, would automatically be taken as a provocation — or worse, an attack. So I stayed quiet, nearly motionless, until Emily and Laura spoke up.
Emily was the first to break the tension. She shrugged, her lips moving with casual disinterest as she answered Victor's questions: "She broke out of the containment cell — again" she said, her voice laced with sarcasm: "Showed up out of nowhere, hiding under my desk, saying she was scared you hated her. And honestly, she seemed pretty serious about that"
I blinked once, twice, trying to process what I had just heard. Almost unconsciously, I turned my head deliberately toward Emily. At the same time, a thought struck through my mind like lightning: (Emily... what the hell are you talking about?)