Before any of this, most people my age had no idea what they wanted to be when they grew up.

I did.

It sounded stupid now.

Embarrassing, even.

But I wanted to become a therapist.

Not because I was some saint. Not because I liked people that much. I just...understood what it felt like to be trapped inside your own head. To wake up every morning already exhausted. To smile at people while something underneath kept rotting.

Maybe I thought helping other people would fix something in me too.

Track had been the realistic dream. The scholarship. The escape route out of Chicago.

But if that never worked out?

Then yeah.

Therapist.

Funny as hell considering where I ended up.

The room they shoved me into barely qualified as a quarters. It looked more like something pulled out of an old prison documentary. Concrete floor. Concrete walls. Metal toilet in the corner. No windows. Just a vent above me coughing out cold air that smelled like rust.

I rolled onto my back slowly, every muscle screaming.

My cheek was still wet.

Tears.

Didn’t even remember when I started crying.

Three soldiers stood outside the bars watching me like zoo animals watched dying meat.

"Look, I don’t know what kinda ultimatum Jen gave you," one of them said, "but you better fucking take it."

I stared at the ceiling.

No answer.

"Cause if you don’t, there’s a petition happening right now not to turn you over to intelligence. I think a little jungle justice is more deserving, don’t you?"

The others behind him chuckled.

One spat on the floor near the bars.

"You’ve been out there. You know what it’s like. No laws. No consequences. People do whatever the fuck they want." He leaned closer. "And then you bring that shit here."

My eyes shifted toward him slowly.

Recognition.

He was one of the soldiers from outside the sector.

One of the ones Lila smiled at before things got ugly.

"I know what you are," he said quietly.

Then his face twisted.

"What your bitch is."

Something cold moved through my chest.

"They’re gonna tear her apart limb from limb. Been a while since the lab had an intelligent strain to experiment on."

"She’s not infected," I muttered.

My throat hurt saying it.

He laughed immediately.

"Yeah? And I’m not glad you finally got what you deserve."

That got louder laughs from the others.

"Rot in hell, f*g."

The metal door slammed shut behind them.

Silence swallowed the room again.

I closed my eyes.

And somewhere along the line—

the world changed.

—

Scribble.

Scribble scribble.

My pen moved across paper while Aubrey sat across from me with one leg bouncing over the other.

She looked different here.

Not softer.

Just...more complete.

Her buzzcut was cleaner. Tattoos crept further up her throat. Piercings caught the afternoon light bleeding through the blinds. Outside the office window, Chicago traffic screamed endlessly. Horns. Sirens. People yelling somewhere below.

Normal city noise.

The kind nobody notices until it disappears forever.

The TV in the corner mumbled quietly about rising crime rates across Illinois. Numbers. Statistics. Footage of police lights flashing across wet streets.

Background noise.

Aubrey rubbed at her jaw before speaking again.

"I just feel like I deserve more than fucking Englewood, you know?"

I looked up from my notes.

She shrugged awkwardly.

"Like...is this it?"

"No." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"You answered too fast."

"Because it’s obvious."

She snorted.

"To you maybe."

I leaned back in my chair.

"Aubrey, you’re twenty-two. You didn’t peak in high school."

"That sounds exactly like something a therapist would say."

"Well, good thing I’m studying to become one."

"Fake ass therapist," she muttered.

I smiled despite myself.

Then there was a knock at the door.

I apologized quietly before standing up and opening it.

A delivery guy stood there holding a paper bag darkened with grease near the bottom.

"Uh...from Lila Graham," he said. "Said you forgot your lunch."

I blinked.

"Oh."

That idiot.

"Thanks."

"She already left," he added before walking away.

I frowned faintly and closed the door.

Behind me, Aubrey inhaled dramatically.

"Ouuu. Is that China Wok?"

"And you’re not getting any."

"Oh, you dirty bitch."

I laughed under my breath while setting the bag down on my desk. My little bobbleheads shook from the movement.

Aubrey was still staring at the food like she wanted to rob me.

Then the TV volume changed.

Breaking news.

I looked over automatically.

The screen showed police lights flooding a street at night. Officers dragging people into armored trucks while reporters shouted over each other.

A woman appeared onscreen in handcuffs.

Dark skin. Liberty spikes. Dermal piercings under one eye.

Another woman followed behind her with blonde hair streaked blue.

The caption underneath read:

CRUCIBLE MEMBERS ARRESTED IN FEDERAL RAID

"Oh, she’s hot," Aubrey said immediately, pointing at the screen.

I stared at her.

"Her?"

"Yes, her."

"She’s literally getting arrested."

"And?"

I looked back at the television.

Faces moved across the screen one after another. Criminals. Gang members. Domestic extremists according to the reporter.

I felt nothing looking at them.

People like that weren’t attractive to me.

Just broken.

Dangerous.

The blonde woman looked directly into the camera while officers shoved her toward the truck.

And for some reason—

the image lingered.

—

The scream snapped me awake.

Not physically.

Mentally.

Reality crashed back so hard it made me nauseous.

Concrete floor.

Cold air.

Blood dried against my sleeve.

I opened my eyes slowly.

Someone was screaming nearby.

Not screaming.

Begging.

The sound echoed through the corridor outside my cell.

"PLEASE—!"

Female voice.

Cracked raw.

I sat up immediately.

More voices followed.

Soldiers.

Boots dragging against concrete.

"Stop fucking moving!"

"I said HOLD HER—"

Then another scream.

Animalistic.

My stomach dropped.

Lila.

I was already on my feet before thinking.

I reached the bars just as figures dragged her down the hallway.

My breath caught hard enough to hurt.

Jesus Christ.

Blood soaked one side of her hair completely. Her feet scraped uselessly against the floor while four soldiers struggled to hold her down. A muzzle had been strapped over her mouth now like she was some kind of dog.

And still—

they looked terrified of her.

One soldier had blood running down his neck.

Another kept swearing while trying to keep hold of her arm.

Lila saw me.

Everything stopped.

Not physically.

But in her eyes.

The second she saw me fighting against the bars, something in her completely shattered.

"MMPH—!!"

She lunged so violently the soldiers nearly lost her.

"Hold her down!"

"Jesus fucking Christ—"

Her muffled screams filled the corridor.

I gripped the bars harder.

"LILA!"

One of the guards slammed a baton through the bars into my stomach before I could yell again.

Pain exploded through me.

I folded forward choking.

"Shut the fuck up."

I barely heard him.

Lila was still staring at me.

Crying now.

Actually crying.

I don’t think I’d ever seen that before.

Not really.

Why..?

Why were they showing this to me?

Why couldn’t it have been the labs, where I wasn’t able to see what was happening?

And as her body jerked against restraints while they dragged her further down the corridor, as she kept trying to reach toward me anyway—

I felt my mind fracturing.

I finally realized what was happened.

What Jennifer was doing.

I slammed my head against the metal bars. Hard.

No.

Don’t change.

Don’t make it easier for her to put the rest of it in my brain.

I slammed again, harder.

Again and again.

Blood exploded from my forehead.

Then someone stepped into view behind them.

Jennifer.

Clean uniform.

Perfect posture.

Calm expression.

She watched Lila fight like someone admiring an interesting animal at a zoo.

Then her eyes moved toward me.

And she smiled.

That same smile from the interrogation room.

Soft.

Warm.

Wrong.

"She’s remarkable, isn’t she?" she asked quietly.

I said nothing.

Couldn’t.

Jennifer walked closer to my bars.

"She survived cranial trauma that should’ve killed her instantly. Her aggression levels spike when emotionally stimulated. Motor function remains almost entirely intact despite obvious neurological degeneration." She tilted her head slightly. "Do you understand how extraordinary that is?"

My hands tightened around the bars.

"Don’t you fucking touch her..."

Jennifer ignored me completely.

"The others from the Crucible were crude. Violent. Shortsighted." Her gaze stayed on Lila disappearing down the hallway. "They had sight of my vision, but not completely."

Now she looked at me.

"I know how different you are."

I felt sick again.

She stepped closer.

Close enough for me to smell perfume beneath antiseptic.

"The lattice responds to you in ways we never predicted."

My jaw clenched.

"You keep saying we."

Her smile widened slightly.

"Yes."

Silence.

Then—

"You know what the funny part is, Adrian?"

I didn’t answer.

"You still think this is about punishment."

The corridor behind her echoed with Lila’s muffled screaming growing more distant.

Jennifer watched my face carefully.

Studying.

Measuring.

"People like you always misunderstand what you are." She reached out slowly, fingers brushing the bruises along my jaw. "You think you’re survivors."

I jerked away from her touch immediately.

Something flickered behind her eyes.

Not anger.

Interest.

"No," she whispered.

"You’re prototypes."

My pulse slowed.

Not sped up.

Slowed.

That was the terrifying part.

Because deep down—

some part of me already knew.