Silence

The silence between us is unbearable.

Her eyes plead with me, shimmering under the moonlight, but I don't move. I can't. My chest feels hollow, like she reached inside and took something I can never get back.

"Please," she whispers. "Let me explain."

Explain?

How do you explain breaking someone's world apart? How do you make betrayal sound gentle?

I take a step back, my breath shaky. The air feels thinner up here on the rooftop, like the weight of her words is pressing against my lungs. "You knew," I repeat, voice cold. "All this time. And you said nothing."

She flinches. "I was trying to—"

"Protect me?" The words taste bitter. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. And now… now I don't even know who I am."

My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. Anger surges beneath my skin, but it's not just anger—it's grief. The kind that twists inside you and won't let go.

She looks down, hands trembling in her lap. "I didn't want you to feel this way. I thought if I could keep you safe from it, maybe… maybe you'd never have to know."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "But I do know. And it's worse than anything I could've imagined."

The wind howls, wrapping around us like a ghost. It's cold tonight, but the chill I feel comes from the space growing between us.

"Tell me everything," I demand. "No more lies. No more protecting me. Just… tell me."

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. Then, finally, she speaks.

"You were never meant to find out this way." Her voice is soft, fragile, like she's afraid her words might break me even more. "But the truth is… you were created. Not born. Not like everyone else."

Something in my mind cracks open, a flood of memories I don't recognize. Shadows moving at the edges of my dreams. A voice whispering my name in the dark. The feeling of something lurking inside me, waiting to wake up.

"What am I?" My voice is barely a whisper, but it carries the weight of everything I've lost tonight.

She hesitates. Then, softly—

"You're not human. But you're not a monster either. You're something else. Something powerful. And they will come for you."

My breath catches. "Who?"

"The ones who created you. The ones who want you back."

The night stretches around us, endless and empty. For the first time, I understand why I've always felt like I didn't belong.

Because I never did.

"I'm sorry," she says again, but I can't tell if she means for lying to me—or for the storm that's coming.

The stars above us keep shining. But I don't know if I'll ever feel their warmth again.

The silence stretches between us like a chasm, wide and impossible to cross. I should say something, but my throat feels tight, my breath unsteady.

She watches me, waiting. Hoping. But I don't know if I can give her what she wants.

The rooftop feels colder now. The night sky above us is vast and endless, but it offers no answers, no comfort. Just emptiness.

"Say something," she whispers, almost pleading.

I shake my head. "I don't know what to say."

Because every word feels too small. Too insignificant for the storm raging inside me.

I turn away, pressing a hand against my chest as if I can hold myself together. But I can't. Not after this.

"You were never meant to find out this way," she says again, her voice barely audible over the wind.

I exhale sharply. "Then how? When? After they came for me? After I had no choice but to find out the truth in the worst way possible?"

She flinches. Good. Let her feel it—the weight of what she did.

"I wanted to tell you," she murmurs. "I just… I was scared."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You were scared? Imagine how I feel. My entire life—every single thing I thought I knew about myself—it's all a lie."

She looks away, guilt flickering across her face. "You're not a lie."

"Aren't I?" My voice is sharp, cutting through the silence. "You said it yourself. I wasn't born. I was created. Do you even know what that makes me? Because I don't. I don't know what I am anymore."

She steps closer, hesitating. "You're still you. No matter what."

I shake my head. "You don't get it. Everything's different now. I feel it. Inside me. Like something's waking up. And I don't know if I can control it."

The wind howls around us, rattling the metal railing. For a moment, we just stand there, lost in the weight of everything unspoken.

"They'll come for you," she says softly. "Soon."

A shiver runs down my spine. "Who?"

"The ones who made you." Her expression darkens. "And they won't stop until they have you back."

The words sink into me, heavy and cold. I swallow hard. "Then what do I do?"

She finally reaches for me, her fingers brushing against mine. "We run."

I stare at her, searching for doubt, for hesitation. But there's none.

She's already chosen this path.

And now, I have to choose too.

I glance back at the sky, at the stars that once felt so distant.

I don't know who I am. I don't know what's coming.

But I know one thing.

I don't want to face it alone.

The night stretches before us, endless and uncertain. The weight of her words lingers in the cold air between us. We run.

I exhale, the decision pressing against my ribs like a vice. "Where?" My voice is hoarse, filled with something raw and restless.

She hesitates. "Somewhere they won't find us. But we can't stay here."

The thought sends a shiver through me. Leaving everything behind. The life I thought was mine. The people I thought I knew.

"How long have you known?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "About me. About them."

She doesn't answer right away. And that silence says more than words ever could.

"Long enough," she finally admits. "Long enough to know they'll stop at nothing to take you back."

Something inside me twists. "Why? What do they want from me?"

She looks at me then, her eyes heavy with something that looks like regret. "Because you're theirs. And they don't lose things."

The words settle into my bones like ice. The idea that I belong to someone—something—I don't even remember chills me in a way I can't explain.

I shake my head. "I don't even know who I am. How can they claim me when I don't even know myself?"

She steps closer, her presence steady despite the storm raging inside me. "You're not them. Whatever they made you for, whatever they think you are—you're more than that. You always have been."

I want to believe her. I really do. But belief doesn't change reality. And my reality is a nightmare unraveling before me.

I press a hand to my chest, my breath unsteady. "If we leave now, we don't come back, do we?"

Her silence is my answer.

The rooftop suddenly feels smaller. The night sky heavier. The world I knew—gone before I even had the chance to say goodbye.

She watches me, waiting for my decision.

And despite everything—despite the fear clawing at my throat—I already know what it is.

I take a breath, steadying myself against the storm inside.

"Then let's go."