Clara didn't sleep that night.
Adrian's voice echoed inside her head, too vivid to be a dream, too real to be madness.
Every time she tried to convince herself it was memory, he spoke again.
Clara… can you hear me?
"Yes…" she whispered, as if afraid someone else might hear.
Don't do it like that. It drains you.
A sharp pain flared behind her eyes.
She pressed her fingers to her temples.
"What's happening to me?"
It's him. Rinaldi. He's watching.
"How do you know?"
Because he sees me too. Every time you reach out, he feels it.
Clara rose from the bed. The room was dark, lit only by the green pulse of the monitor.
She walked to the mirror, studying herself.
She looked older. Tired.
But alive.
"Adrian… if it's really you, prove it. Tell me something only you could know."
Silence. Then, quietly: The first time you looked at me, you turned away too fast. But I saw your hands tremble. You said it was cold but it wasn't. It was you.
Her breath caught. Tears blurred her vision.
"You're alive…"
Not the way you think.
"What does that mean?"
I'm not dead, but I'm not here. He trapped me in something. My mind, my memories, he's using them. I don't know where my body is, Clara. But I can feel you.
She ran a hand through her hair, pacing like a prisoner searching for an invisible door.
"I can help you. Tell me how."
You can't. Not yet. If you try to find me, he'll find you too.
"I don't care."
I do. I won't let him use you like he used me.
His tone shifted: deeper, almost tangible.
Promise me you won't call me again.
"I can't promise that."
Clara…
"You said you'd never leave me. Don't ask me to do it now."
A long pause. Then his voice, soft, aching, resigned.
You've always been my weakness.
Morning came without light.
She drifted in and out of a restless sleep, haunted by images of flickering lights and endless cables.
Adrian was there, floating in the dark, machines breathing for him.
Wires ran from his chest like veins.
When she woke, her heart was pounding.
Everything was the same, yet not.
The air felt heavier, as if someone else was breathing with her. A low metallic hum began to vibrate through the room.
The lights flickered once, then went out.
Clara, listen to me…
Adrian's voice came louder now, raw with urgency.
It's not in your head this time. He's here.
"What?"
The sound grew, swelling through the walls.
Clara pressed her hands to her ears.
Run, Clara. Now.
"Where?"
Out of this room. He's…
Silence.
The lights came back on. The door opened.
Rinaldi stood in the doorway. Impeccable. Serene. Hands behind his back. A smile too calm to be human.
"Still talking to ghosts, Doctor?" he asked.
Clara froze, her pulse hammering. She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Because beneath the fear, she heard it again, faint, steady, inside her head: Don't say a word. I'm watching you.
And for the first time, Clara didn't feel alone.