ACCIDENTALLY HIS LAB EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER 15: BREATHING LESSONS

SELENE POV

Kade said: No Helm. No tech. 48 hours rest.

Vant said: Breathe.

They locked her in a small room. One light was buzzing. One air vent shook every 3 minutes. Selene counted both. She counted everything now.

“Block one sound,” Vant said. He stood 2 meters away. “Just hear your breath. Not the light. Not the mountain. Only you.”

Note:

The mountain in this story is not a normal mountain. It’s a place with a voice in Selene’s head. It called her name and her brother’s name. It’s why Vant makes her practice “breathing” now - so she can choose if she answers it later without Helm or help

Selene sat on the floor. Back to the wall. Knees to her chest. The blue marks by her ears were gray now. Quiet. Dead.

In. Out. In. Out.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The light buzzed louder than her lungs. Something inside her blood whispered: `You’re not human. You’ll never be human.`

“Stop,” Vant said after 20 minutes. He hadn’t moved. “You listen to the room first. That’s why it broke you before. The sound. The blood.”

Selene opened her eyes. “I can’t hear myself. I only hear it.”

“Then pick,” Vant said. He moved closer. 1 meter now. He broke his own rule. “When the mountain called your name… when it said your brother’s name… you choose if you answer. No Helm will help you. I won’t be there.”

Her heart beat faster. 66… 91. He heard it. He always heard it since he fixed the cracked Helm.

“You know about him,” Selene whispered. “The piano. My brother. I never said his name out loud.”

“No,” Vant said. He held his hand 3cm from her chest. Not touching. Just close. “The thing in your blood told me.” His jaw tightened.

The light buzzed. For 3 seconds the room went quiet. Not fake quiet. Real quiet. Like two people who both got hurt.

Then the door opened with a hiss.

Kade. No paper. Just tired eyes.

“48 hours, Vant,” he said from the door. “That was the deal. No training.”

“She’s breathing,” Vant said. He didn’t turn. “That’s not training.”

“That’s word play,” Kade said. He came in. Stopped 2 meters away. Same distance everyone used. “Virek wrote his report after her second try at the training room. ‘Selene is mentally broken. Helm needs fixing.’”

‘Selene.’ Not her name. Just a test subject. Same word Virek used. Pathetic. Failed. Subject.

Kade saw her face. His voice got softer. “How are you, Selene? Really? Not lab Selene. You.”

She could’ve lied. ‘Fine.’ Like she did when the voices first started. But Jaren’s torn sleeve was still in her pocket. And he said “war,” not “pathetic.” So she told the truth.

“It hurts,” she whispered. “Every sound since I became a Channel. I miss quiet. I miss my brother. I don’t want to be the key everyone says I am.”

Kade nodded once. Like that was enough. “You don’t have to be the key today. Or tomorrow. Today you’re just Dr. Selene from the 2am shift.”

Vant stood up slow. “Sir, the thing in her blood doesn’t take days off. If we rest, it takes her.”

“The thing in her blood isn’t a kid,” Kade said sharp. Then he sighed. “48 hours, Vant.”

Vant looked at Selene. Held her eyes one second too long. “Fine. 48 hours. No training.” A pause. “But breathing isn’t training. It’s staying alive.”

He left. No stop at the door. No warning about the announcement. Just gone.

The room felt 10 meters bigger without him. Colder.

Kade crouched where Vant sat. 1 meter away. Not 2. “He’s wrong about one thing,” Kade said soft. “You still have choices. Even now. Even as a test subject.”

He put a paper cup of water on the floor. No pills. No scanner. Just water.

“Drink,” he said. “Then sleep. I’ll tell maintenance to kill the light and vent. You need silence that isn’t from tech or Vant. Your silence.”

Selene held the cup with both hands. Warm. Real. Not a voice.

“Why help me?” she asked. “If I’m the key like they say.”

Kade smiled. Small. Tired. “Because keys open doors. But people choose what’s on the other side. Even test subjects.” He stood. “Rest, Selene.”

He left. Door closed with a hiss.

Silence. For maybe 30 seconds. Real silence. No buzz. No shaking vent.

Then: three soft knocks. Not Kade. Not Vant.

Door opened a little. Luma. Paint on her nails. Red eyes. She didn’t come in. She wasn’t allowed. She pushed a folded paper under the door.

“From Jaren,” she whispered. “He said read it when it’s quiet.”

Gone before cameras saw her.

Selene opened it. One line. Jaren’s writing. Pressed hard like he was angry:

`You’re not the key. You’re the door. Doors choose who they open for.`

She read it again. And again. Then held it to her chest, over her heart.

The light stayed off. The vent stayed off. The thing in her blood pulsed once, quiet.

`Selene.`

She didn’t answer.

She closed her eyes. Listened to only one sound:

In. Out. In. Out.

One. Two. Three.

Her first breath that was only hers since the lab accident.

---

*[VANT POV - CUT]*

His office. Gray walls. Old furniture.

Vant sat in his chair. Hands steady. He saw her knees give out again. Blood on her neck.

He should’ve stopped it at minute 41. Minute 23. Minute 1.

He didn’t. Because the voice she heard proved the thing in her blood knew her brother’s name. She had to learn to fight that alone. No Helm.

Comms crackled. Virek, smug: “She’s broken, Dr. Vant. Let me train her again.”

Vant didn’t answer. He pressed two fingers to his wrist. 66 beats. Same as hers in the training room.

“27 seconds,” he whispered to the wall. “8 seconds at 40%. My girl. My little thorn.”

Two floors up, the light in Selene’s room clicked off. Dark. Silent. 30 seconds of it.

Vant closed his eyes. For the first time, he hoped she’d use that silence.