Emily
770 Words
The laughter echoed through the tunnel.
Soft.
Innocent.
Impossible.
“…Emily.”
The name slipped from Nadia’s lips before she even realized she had spoken.
The tunnel fell silent.
Adrian stopped walking.
Margaret’s lantern trembled in her hand.
She slowly turned toward Nadia, her face drained of color.
“What… did you just say?” Margaret whispered.
Nadia blinked in confusion.
“I don’t know.”
“You called yourself Emily.”
“I’ve never heard that name before.”
Margaret looked at Adrian.
“It’s happening.”
Adrian nodded grimly.
“The memories are breaking through.”
⸻
They continued deeper into the tunnel until they reached an old steel door hidden beneath the forest.
Margaret unlocked it with three different keys.
Inside was a secret room.
It wasn’t a bunker.
It was an archive.
Shelves lined every wall, filled with boxes, photographs, videotapes, and handwritten journals.
Every item was carefully labeled.
One shelf caught Nadia’s attention.
A single word was written across it:
EMILY.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the nearest box.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
A smiling little girl.
A birthday cake with five candles.
A woman with long black hair hugging her tightly.
A younger Adrian Cross kneeling beside them.
They looked…
…like a family.
Tears filled Nadia’s eyes.
“Why am I in these pictures?”
Margaret answered quietly.
“Because that little girl is you.”
⸻
Nadia sank into a chair.
“My name isn’t Nadia?”
Margaret sat opposite her.
“It is now.”
“But before…”
“You were Emily Hart.”
The room spun.
“My father…”
“His name was Daniel Hart.”
Nadia remembered the elegant woman’s dying words.
“Your father was murdered because of you.”
She looked up sharply.
“Why?”
Margaret hesitated.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Daniel Hart was an investigative journalist.”
“He spent years uncovering the truth about an organization known as The Custodians.”
“The same people chasing us?”
“Yes.”
“What were they hiding?”
Adrian took a deep breath.
“They were stealing identities.”
⸻
Margaret opened another box.
Inside were hundreds of birth certificates.
Passports.
School records.
Death certificates.
All genuine.
All belonging to different children.
“They didn’t just create fake identities,” she said.
“They erased real ones.”
Nadia stared in horror.
“They kidn*pped children?”
“Some.”
“And the others?”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“The others were told their parents had abandoned them.”
⸻
Adrian picked up a faded file.
Across the cover was written:
Project Phoenix.
“This,” he said, “is what Daniel died trying to expose.”
He opened it.
Inside was a list of names.
Hundreds of names.
Each one marked with either a red circle or a green check.
Nadia found one that made her blood run cold.
Emily Hart – Status: Reassigned.
Beside it was another name.
Vivian Cole – Status: Active Identity.
Nadia frowned.
“What does ‘Active Identity’ mean?”
Adrian looked her straight in the eye.
“It means Vivian Cole wasn’t born.”
“She was created.”
⸻
Before Nadia could process those words, Margaret hurried to an old television connected to a battery-powered receiver.
She turned it on.
A news broadcast filled the screen.
The anchor looked shaken.
“We have breaking news this evening. Authorities have announced that a woman believed to be Vivian Cole has been captured following an armed raid outside the city.”
A photograph appeared on the screen.
Nadia gasped.
The woman looked exactly like Vivian.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Adrian stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
Margaret whispered,
“No…”
The reporter continued.
“The woman has identified herself as Vivian Cole and is currently being transported to an undisclosed location.”
Nadia turned to Adrian.
“I thought you said Vivian was alive.”
“I did.”
“Then who is that?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
⸻
Suddenly, the television flickered.
The broadcast was interrupted.
Static filled the screen.
Then a woman’s face appeared.
She was bruised.
Bleeding.
Breathing heavily.
She looked directly into the camera.
“Nadia…”
Her voice cracked.
“If you’re seeing this…”
“…they’ve already found me.”
She paused.
“I don’t have much time.”
Nadia leaned closer.
The woman smiled sadly.
“My name…”
“…is Vivian Cole.”
The screen went black.
A single gunshot echoed through the speakers.
Then…
Nothing.
- Writer
