CHAPTER 3 : THE NAME THAT WAS NEVER YOURS
837 Words
For a second, the world didn’t move.
Not the room. Not the air. Not even me.
Those words just stayed there, hanging like something too heavy to fall.
“Lena… that’s not your real name.”
My mind refused to accept them.
I shook my head slowly.
“No… that’s not true.”
My voice sounded weak, even to me.
The man with the black folder didn’t react. He just watched me like he was waiting for my memory to break open on its own.
Adrian moved instantly.
“Don’t listen to him,” he said sharply.
But his voice wasn’t as strong as before.
That’s when I noticed it.
He wasn’t trying to deny the words anymore.
He was trying to stop me from hearing them.
The man opened the folder again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like every page mattered more than my reaction.
“There are things you were never meant to remember,” he said calmly. “And things you were never meant to become aware of.”
My throat tightened.
“Stop talking like I’m not here,” I said.
He finally looked at me directly.
“You’ve always been here,” he replied. “Just not as yourself.”
A cold wave ran through my body.
Adrian stepped closer to him.
“That’s enough.”
The man ignored him completely.
Instead, he turned one page in the folder and placed it on top.
I saw a photo.
And my heart stopped.
It was me.
But not me as I knew myself.
Different hair. Different expression. Different eyes.
Like someone had been living my life before I even started mine.
“No…” I whispered.
My legs felt weak.
“That’s impossible.”
Adrian’s voice turned low.
“Lena, don’t look at it.”
But I couldn’t stop.
Something inside me was already breaking open.
The man tapped the photo lightly.
“This is Subject 7,” he said.
Then he looked at me again.
“And this is where your real story begins.”
My breath caught.
“Subject… 7?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Stop,” he said again, but now there was something different in his voice.
Something closer to panic.
The man continued anyway.
“Subject 7 was part of the original emotional mapping trials,” he said. “The first stable identity transfer model.”
I stepped back.
Identity transfer?
That sounded insane.
But at the same time…
Something about it felt familiar in the worst way.
Like my body understood before my mind did.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
The man’s voice softened slightly.
“You don’t have to understand everything yet,” he said. “Only this—”
He paused.
And then dropped the sentence like a blade.
“You were not born. You were assigned.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even Adrian didn’t speak.
My chest tightened painfully.
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice barely holding itself together.
The man closed the folder halfway.
“It means the person you think you are… was constructed.”
I shook my head again, faster this time.
“No. No, that’s not— I have memories. I have a life.”
The man nodded slowly.
“Yes,” he said. “You do.”
A pause.
“But they are not originally yours.”
The room tilted slightly.
I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.
“That’s not possible,” I whispered.
Adrian finally spoke, his voice tight.
“You shouldn’t have shown her that.”
The man looked at him.
“She deserves to know what she is protecting.”
My eyes snapped to Adrian immediately.
“Protecting?” I repeated.
He didn’t answer.
That silence was worse than anything else.
My voice broke slightly.
“Adrian… tell me he’s lying.”
For a second, something flashed in his eyes.
Something human.
Something guilty.
But he still didn’t speak.
And that was the answer.
My stomach dropped.
So he knew.
He knew something.
A loud sound came from outside the building suddenly.
Footsteps.
Many.
Fast.
The man with the folder closed it immediately.
“They’re here,” he said calmly.
Adrian’s head snapped toward the door.
His entire posture changed.
Danger mode.
Instant.
He turned to me quickly.
“Stay behind me. Now.”
But my body wasn’t listening anymore.
Everything I thought I knew about myself was collapsing at once.
The footsteps outside grew louder.
Closer.
Then—
A voice from the hallway, loud and clear:
“Subject 7 must be secured immediately.”
My blood turned cold.
Adrian grabbed my wrist.
Firmly this time.
Not gently.
Not softly.
“Lena,” he said, his voice lower than before, “no matter what you hear next… don’t believe them.”
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
For the first time, I didn’t know if he was saving me…
or if he was part of what created me.
The door handle started turning again.
chapter 4 coming soon.........
- Writer
