11. This can't be real...
Claire is reeling. The world is glitching. The lab around her flickers. The air hums like it's made of electricity, like a frequency warping reality itself.
Patient 001 smiles, stepping closer, but Claire stumbles backward—her head splitting with static, like a radio trying to tune into a station that shouldn't exist.
Then—
A voice.
Not from 001.
Not from Claire.
From somewhere else.
"The Signal is not contained."
"Recalibrating the sequence."
"Directive 24: Shut it down."
Alarms scream to life. The lights flicker, bathing everything in flashes of red and white.
001's expression snaps to something new—not cold, not controlled.
Fear.
Something bigger is watching them. Something that doesn't want this conversation to happen.
She grabs Claire's wrist , paranoid.
"You feel it, don't you?" Her voice is urgent now, not teasing. "You were never supposed to hear them. They're rewriting you as we speak.... Listen... No matter what.. don't give in... DON'T!!!!"
Claire gasped, looking down at her arms.
Her veins were glowing.
Like code trying to reprogram itself.
001's grip tightened. "Listen to me. If you don't want to be overwritten—"
The lab glitched.
The walls stretched, distorted.
Reality was being rewritten in real-time.
001's voice was the last thing Claire heard before everything snapped to black—
"RUN."
There was nothing.
No light. No sound. No gravity.
Just her.
And then—
A whisper.
"Wake up."
Claire gasped.
Her eyes snapped open.
She was somewhere else.
Not in the hospital. Not in a lab.
She was in a bedroom.
The air smelled like coffee and old books. Soft morning light filtered through the curtains. A mirror stood across from her.
Claire's stomach twisted.
Because the reflection staring back at her—
Was it Anna's.....??
Her breath hitched.
No.
No, no, no....
She stumbled back, hands shaking.
Her own voice- but not her own thoughts—whispered in her head.
"You're home now, Anna."
A knock at the door.
And then—
A familiar voice.
"Babe? You okay?"
Her heart stopped.
She knew that voice.
She knew him. Didn't she?
Adam!
Her mind screamed no. But her body—her muscles, her nerves, her skin—reacted like they did.
She knew the sound of his footsteps.
The way he sighed when he was tired.
The scent of his cologne—something dark, musky, familiar.
But she didn't.
Because Adam Lorne was not real... He was dead right!!!!!
But she wasn't Claire anymore, was she?
She was Anna.
Claire's fingers dug into her arms, nails pressing into soft, unfamiliar skin.
Her reflection in the mirror—not hers.
The bedroom—not hers.
The memories clawing up her spine—not hers.
Another knock...
"Anna?"
The handle turned.
And when the door swung open—
Adam stood there.
Tall. Dark-haired. Warm brown eyes that lit up when they landed on her.
And the worst part?
The part that made her stomach twist so violently she thought she'd be sick....She knew him. Not just his face. Not just his voice.
She knew what it felt like to love him.
Her mind was screaming, this is wrong, this is wrong, THIS.IS.WRONG—
But her lips parted.
And before she could stop herself—
She whispered:
"Adam?"
No... It wasn't her.... She.. she didn't call him... No..... What's going on!!!
This isn't real.
This isn't real.
This isn't real.
But it felt real.
The air. The weight of her own body. The warmth in Adam's eyes.
That was the worst part.
The warmth. The familiarity.
Like this had always been her life.... And infront of her... Stood her world, her love.
Like she had always been Anna Prescott.
Her stomach twisted.
Her hands were shaking.
She needed to do something—
ground herself, break through, wake up—
"Hey."
Adam's voice snapped her out of it.
Claire flinched.
He was watching her now, brow furrowed.
Concerned.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Act normal.
Act normal.
She forced herself to swallow the panic clawing up her throat.
"Adam." His name left her lips before she could stop it.
But saying it only made it worse.
It felt too natural.
Too practiced.
Like a name she had whispered a hundred times before.
Her breath hitched.
Her body reacted like it remembered him.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
"Yeah?" Adam stepped closer.
Claire's body stiffened. Her nails dug into her palms.
His face blurred at the edges—was that real? Was anything real?
She needed proof.
She needed to break the script.
Her voice trembled. "What's… my name?"
Adam's smile faltered.
"Anna," he said easily. Too easily.
A fist clenched around her lungs.
Her throat felt raw.
Something inside her screamed—run.
But her lips moved on their own.
"Say it again."
Adam blinked, tilting his head. "Anna?"
No hesitation. Not a second of doubt.
Like it was the only answer that had ever existed.
Her breath came faster, shallower.
Liar.
LIAR.
Her head ached. The world felt wrong.
But Adam?
Adam still looked at her like she was the only thing in it.
"You're scaring me," he murmured.
No.
She was the one who was scared...
To be continued...