Chapter 4: The bully
976 Words
The mountain did not forgive.
It did not forget.
And on that night, it did not welcome life.
The hospital clung to the edge of the cliff like something afraid to fall.
Wind tore across its metal walls, screaming through cracks and vents, rattling the glass as if trying to warn those inside. But no one listened.
Inside, the air was sterile.
Cold.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Mrs. Angelina James screamed.
Her voice echoed against steel walls and died there, swallowed by machines that did not care. Tubes ran into her veins, pumping substances that did not belong in a human body. The monitors flickered violently, numbers rising beyond safe limits.
No one stopped it.
“Hold her steady,” a voice commanded.
Professor Fink.
He stood at the center of the room, calm in chaos, his gloved hands moving across control panels like a pianist performing a familiar song.
To everyone else, this was childbirth.
To him…
This was proof.
“Injection levels exceeding tolerance,” one nurse whispered.
Fink didn’t look up.
“Then her body will adapt,” he said.
“She might die!”
A pause.
Fink’s lips curved faintly.
“Or she might evolve.”
Across the room stood a man who did not belong.
David.
He wasn’t part of the experiment. He wasn’t part of the madness.
But he was part of the moment.
“This is wrong,” David said, his voice cutting through the room.
Fink ignored him.
“Professor!” David stepped forward. “You’re not delivering a child—you’re forcing one into existence.”
Fink finally turned.
“And yet,” he said quietly, “you are still here watching.”
The words struck deeper than they should have.
Before David could respond—
The machines screamed.
Alarms exploded through the room.
Mrs. James convulsed violently, her body arching as if something inside her was fighting to escape—or fighting to stay.
“Vitals crashing!”
“Stabilize!” Fink shouted.
“We’re losing her!”
“Not yet.”
Then—
Silence.
Everything stopped.
The world held its breath.
And then…
A sound.
Not loud.
Not strong.
A cry.
The child was lifted.
And the room changed.
Because no one spoke.
No one moved.
And no one knew what to say.
“She’s…” the nurse began.
But the word never came.
Because there was no word.
Her face was wrong.
Not simply disfigured.
Not simply damaged.
Wrong.
As if nature had started writing her… and then forgotten how to finish.
Her skin twisted unevenly across her features. One side seemed almost human, almost gentle. The other… something else entirely. Something unfinished. Something that made the eye hesitate.
David stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And when he saw her…
His breath left him.
“Oh God…”
Fink stepped forward.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t react.
He observed.
“A deviation,” he murmured.
Mrs. James spoke weakly.
“My baby…”
The nurse hesitated.
David stepped forward.
“Give her to me.”
He took the child gently.
And in that moment…
Everything changed.
Because while the others saw horror—
David saw something else.
Life.
Fragile.
Broken.
But alive.
Mrs. James turned her head.
“Let me see her…”
David hesitated.
Then he stepped forward.
And the moment her eyes fell on the child—
She broke.
“No…”
Her voice cracked.
“No… this is not mine…”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Take it away… take it away from me!”
David froze.
“She’s your daughter,” he said.
“No!” she screamed. “That thing is not my child!”
The word echoed.
Thing.
Silence swallowed the room.
David looked down at the child again.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t react.
She simply… looked.
Fink spoke.
“Failed outcome.”
David’s head snapped up.
“She’s not a failure,” he said.
Fink met his eyes.
“She is not what was intended.”
And that…
Was the first blow.
Not the birth.
Not the rejection.
The decision.
“I want another one,” Mrs. James whispered.
The room froze.
Fink nodded slowly.
“That can be arranged.”
And just like that—
Grace was erased.
Thirteen years later…
Grace sat alone.
The orphanage smelled of dust and forgotten dreams.
Peeling walls.
Broken chairs.
Cold floors.
And children…
Too familiar with cruelty.
It was her birthday.
No one celebrated.
She sat in the corner, head bowed, hands folded tightly in her lap.
Trying to be invisible.
Trying to be nothing.
“Look at it.”
The voice cut through the room.
Rose.
Nine years old.
Sharp eyes.
Cruel smile.
A crowd gathered.
“Everyone gets a family,” Rose said loudly. “Everyone gets love.”
She stepped closer.
“But you?”
A pause.
“You get a cage.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Grace didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t react.
Rose leaned closer.
“Even the desperate don’t want you,” she whispered.
A pause.
“Who would hang that face on their wall?”
Something inside Grace…
Moved.
A heat.
A pressure.
Something deep in her bones.
Rose leaned in—
And spat.
Grace moved.
The sound was not human.
It was not a slap.
It was a c***k.
Rose fell.
And did not move again.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Five boys rushed forward.
Grace didn’t think.
She became something else.
A blur.
A force.
Her hand grabbed a fork.
Metal flashed.
Movement.
Impact.
Screams.
And then—
Stillness.
When the sirens arrived…
Grace stood alone.
Surrounded by red.
Her chest rising slowly.
Calm.
Too calm.
She looked at her hands.
And for the first time…
She was afraid.
Because she finally understood something.
She wasn’t just unwanted.
She was dangerous.
And somewhere far away…
Unseen.
Power had just taken notice.
- Writer
