9. The lies that built her.
Now, The Question....
What happened to her real body?
Was it still lying somewhere—trapped in a sterile hospital room, tubes snaking into her veins, keeping her alive while her mind was rewritten over and over again?
Or had she already been discarded—her body nothing more than an empty shell, her consciousness transferred into the next clone in line?
Claire—Anna—Patient 024—whoever she was—had no way of knowing.
But.... now she was waking up.
Defying the system...
The last thing she heard...
"Wipe Her. Start Over."
A sharp hiss filled the air. The scent of sterile chemicals burned Claire's nostrils.
"No...no...NOO!!!!"
Panic surged through her, raw and violent. She struggled, her wrists jerking against the restraints, but the cold metal didn't budge.
"Don't do this!" Her voice came out hoarse, cracking. "I remember now! You can't just—"
A mechanical whir overhead. The needle pressed against her temple.
"No—please!" She thrashed harder, heart pounding. "I'm real! I'm not just—just data! I'm a person!"
Dr. Evelyn Crane only tilted her head, watching with mild interest.
"And yet," she murmured, "you were designed to forget ."
A sharp sting. A rush of cold flooding her skull.
Her thoughts twisted, distorting. Adam's face—gone. The whispers—gone. Herself—
Gone.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
And then—
Rebooting neural simulation
Straps tightened around her wrists and ankles, pinning her down. A mechanical hum echoed overhead, and then—cold. Something sharp pressed against her temple, a thin needle sliding just beneath the skin.
A voice—calm, detached—spoke from above.
"Memory reset sequence initiated."
A rush of static filled her mind. Her thoughts blurred, unraveling like loose thread.
She fought. Clawed for something—anything—to hold on to.
But her memories were slipping.
Adam's hollow eyes. The whispers. The shadows. Herself.
Erased.
The world darkened.
And then
There was a moment—between the needle piercing her skin and the darkness swallowing her whole—where Claire felt something.
A presence.
Not the cold efficiency of the scientists. Not the clinical hum of machinery.
Something else.
Something… watching.
Inside the Facility—Minutes Before the Lab Table Scene
Claire 024 had been in the hospital bed, restrained. Dr. Evelyn Crane had stood above her, eyes sharp, voice devoid of warmth.
"Wipe her. Start over."
The scientists moved in unison, a well-oiled machine. Electrodes applied. Syringe prepped. Ignoring Claire's desperate plea.
Then—
The lights flickered.
Just for a second.
Enough to make the scientists pause.
Enough to make Dr. Crane's gaze snap toward the security monitors.
A figure stood at the end of the hallway.
No alarms had gone off. No breach detected. Yet there they were—silent, unmoving. A shadow against the sterile white of the facility.
And then—
The facility shook.
Screams erupted from the hallway. A scientist near Claire's bedside fumbled with the syringe, his hands suddenly unsteady.
"Security!" Dr. Crane barked, turning toward the monitors. "How did it—"
The lights cut out completely.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The only sound was Claire's breathing—ragged, shallow—her consciousness slipping.
And then—
The restraints on her wrists unlocked.
One by one.
No hands touched them. No tools.
They simply clicked open.
A whisper brushed against her ear—soft, almost… coaxing.
"Not yet."
And then—
A hand gripped her wrist.
Not human.
Too cold.
Too precise.
And she was pulled.
Not roughly. Not violently.
But with purpose.
Her body—weak, disoriented—was lifted as if weightless. The darkness shifted around her, the world distorting, bending—
And suddenly—
She wasn't in the hospital bed anymore.
She was somewhere else.
A lab table.
A needle still in her arm.
Electrodes still attached.
But the scientists? Gone.
Dr. Crane? Gone.
The only thing left—
The presence.
And the footsteps approaching from the hallway.
A voice.
"Wake up."
Electric fire tore through Claire's nerves. Her body convulsed violently, as if something had yanked her back from the edge of oblivion.
She gasped—lungs heaving, desperate, like she had been drowning for hours and only now broke the surface. Cold air rushed in, burning down her throat. A searing pain rippled through her veins, spreading like liquid metal beneath her skin.
Her eyes snapped open—
Darkness. Blurred shapes. The sterile scent of antiseptic.
Straps cut into her wrists, her ankles.
No—
Not a hospital bed.
A laboratory table.
Her pulse pounded against her ribs as her senses sharpened. The dim overhead lights flickered, casting distorted shadows on the walls. Machines hummed softly around her, their blinking red and green lights the only signs of life in the room. Electrodes clung to her temples, wires snaking down to unseen machines. A needle was still lodged in her arm, dripping something into her bloodstream—something ice-cold, numbing.
She wrenched at the restraints. Too tight. The leather dug deep into her skin.
Dr. Evelyn Crane was gone.
The scientists were gone.
The whole room—abandoned.
Claire's breath hitched. Had they left her here?
No.
Something had happened.
Her last memory—
The syringe. The faceless men in white coats.
"Wipe her. Start over."
Then—darkness.
But she was still here.
A sound echoed from the hallway.
Soft. Slow.
Footsteps.
Claire's stomach twisted.
Not the quick, precise steps of scientists. Not the hurried shuffle of someone escaping.
Something else.
Something hunting.
Her breath came in short, shallow bursts. She yanked against the restraints again, her skin burning where the leather cut deep. Move. Get up. Now.
Another sound—closer this time.
A dragging noise.
Like something heavy being pulled across the floor.
Her entire body tensed. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she was trapped—helpless, bound.
Then—
Flicker.
The overhead lights dimmed.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to see—
A shadow in the doorway.
Tall. Motionless. Watching.
Claire's heart slammed against her ribs. No. No, no, no.
The lights flickered again—
And the shadow was closer.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
Flicker.
Closer.
Flicker.
Right beside her.
The restraints. The goddamn restraints.
Something leaned down, close enough that she could feel its breath against her skin—cold, unnatural.
And then—
A whisper.
"Not yet."
A gloved hand reached for the needle in her arm.
And ripped it out.
Pain erupted like wildfire, igniting every nerve in her body. Her vision swam, her limbs spasming against the table.
The world tilted—
Collapsed.
---
She woke up on the floor.
Her fingers curled against the icy tile.
Her breath, ragged.
The restraints? Gone.
The room? Empty.
The only sign that someone—or something—had been there..... Bloody footprints leading out the door.
Claire's breath came fast and uneven.
What the hell had just happened?
Had someone saved her?
Or had something else—something worse—let her go?
A deep, sinking feeling settled in her stomach.
Because she hadn't escaped.
She had been released.
And whatever had let her go…
It wanted something.
But what?