CHAPTER 4
901 Words
The moment I reach for the glass, time bends.
I see it falling, slow as a raindrop suspended in midair. My arm moves without thought, faster than it ever should. My fingers close around the glass just before it shatters against the counter. My heart pounds in my chest as I set it down carefully, staring at my own hand like it belonged to someone else.
A deep breath. A slow exhale. It’s fine. Just another side effect.
Then the lights flicker.
For a moment, my apartment isn’t my apartment. The walls stretch, shift—becoming something sterile, metallic. The air feels thinner. I swear I see another version of myself in the mirror, his expression twisted in alarm. And then, just as suddenly, reality snaps back into place.
I take a step back, my breath shallow. "No, no, no…"
The words are barely a whisper.
A sharp chime rings in my ears. My vision warps, lines of red text burning into my sight.
[Overseer Alert: Tracking Initiated]
A cold weight settles in my gut. The system. It’s watching me.
"No. No way," I mutter, stumbling backward. "That’s not possible. They said—"
But I already know what they said doesn’t matter.
I sprint to my desk, yanking open drawers and searching for my tablet. My hands are shaking. I tap the screen, pulling up the interface—my access to the system’s core diagnostics. If I can shut it down before—
A static-filled screech explodes in my ears. My vision tunnels. The screen flashes erratic data, symbols shifting faster than I can read.
[Unauthorized Activity Detected]
[Locking System—]
The screen goes black. A pulse of fear radiates through my chest.
Someone is locking me out.
I slam my fist against the desk. "Think. Think, damn it."
The emergency override. I built it in case something like this ever happened. But reaching it means going deeper into the system than I ever have before. And if they're tracking me, any further intrusion could be the final nail in my coffin.
I drag a hand through my hair, pacing the small space of my apartment. The walls feel closer. My skin hums with static like the whole world is seconds from short-circuiting.
There’s a knock at the door.
I freeze.
One knock. Then two. Slow. Measured.
I swallow hard. No one ever comes here unannounced. My mind races through possibilities. It’s too soon for them to send someone—right? But I can’t risk it.
I move carefully, crossing the room. I peek through the peephole.
Nothing.
The hallway is empty.
Another flicker. The walls shift again—this time longer. My door isn’t a door anymore. It’s metal, cold, and seamless, like something from a containment facility. I see my reflection, distorted, eyes too wide, mouth slightly open.
Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.
I press a hand against my forehead, exhaling through gritted teeth.
"Losing it. I’m losing it."
The system isn't just glitching—it’s breaking me apart.
I take another breath and pull away from the door. But before I can think of my next move, my phone vibrates on the desk.
A single message: RUN.
A spike of adrenaline hits me like a live wire. My fingers clench around the phone. The number is unknown, but the intent is clear.
I don’t have time to question it.
I grab my jacket and bolt.
The stairwell echoes with every footstep, my heart hammering in sync. I take them two at a time, nearly stumbling, every nerve on fire. I burst into the night air, sucking in the cool air like it’s my first breath in hours.
The city hums around me—neon signs flickering, streets alive with people who have no idea that somewhere, somehow, a system meant to enhance me is now hunting me instead.
I merge into the crowd, keeping my head down.
The phone vibrates again.
Too late. They see you.
The world narrows.
Across the street, a black car idles. The kind you don’t notice until you do. The kind that doesn’t belong.
The doors open.
Two figures step out. Suits. Perfectly pressed. Eyes that scan like machines.
I turn sharply into an alley, feet pounding the pavement. I don’t stop to think. Thinking means hesitating. And hesitation means I don’t make it out of here.
Another text.
Left. Now.
I don’t question it. I veer left, nearly colliding with a dumpster, the scent of old garbage thick in the air. A door ahead—unmarked, slightly ajar. I push through, slamming it shut behind me.
Darkness.
Only my breathing was ragged and uneven.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
I press myself against the wall, every muscle locked in place.
A shadow moves beyond the c***k under the door.
I hold my breath.
Seconds stretch into eternity.
Then—
Silence.
The footsteps retreat.
My body sags against the wall. My lungs burn as I force air back into them.
I look at the phone, fingers shaking as I type: Who are you?
The reply comes instantly.
The only one who can help you.
I swallow hard. My pulse still pounds, but my mind is already working through the next steps. I have to find out what’s happening. Why is the system tracking me? Who sent that warning.
Because one thing is clear.
This isn’t just a glitch anymore.
This is war.
- Writer
