Dr. Grant handed the recorder over. The screen was on. A four-digit passcode lock.
The wallpaper was a photo of the two of us in uniform. I was smiling brightly. He was looking down at me, his eyes soft.
Sean's eyes were bloodshot as he took it, his hands shaking. He entered my birthday as the passcode.
Wrong password.
He froze for a second, like something had just hit him. Then, stiffly, he entered another set of numbers.
His birthday.
The lock clicked open.
He suddenly clutched his chest. A sharp pain twisted through his heart, his vision going dark as he nearly lost his balance.
Dr. Grant took the recorder back and pressed play.
The lab filled with sound. Blurred, broken, yet unmistakably clear.
First came the struggle. Breathing, ragged and uneven.
Then my voice. Faint. Fadi
