confusion

Episode 4: What We Did

PRIDE POV

The call ended.

I tried calling Dr. Reyes back, but the number no longer existed.

Around me, the office was almost empty. The alarm continued to scream as the last few agents rushed toward the emergency exit.

One of the security guards grabbed my arm.

“Ma’am, you need to leave.”

I pulled away from him.

“Where’s the security room?”

“This isn’t the time—”

“Where is it?”

Before he could stop me, the lights went out again.

I ran.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but my body seemed to remember. I turned at the end of the hallway, pushed through an unmarked door, and found a narrow staircase leading underground.

Why do I know this place?

At the bottom was a locked metal door.

I took the silver necklace from my belt bag and examined the key-shaped pendant.

It fit perfectly into the lock.

The door opened.

Inside was a small room filled with monitors, medical equipment, and stacks of files. Photographs covered one wall.

Every picture was of me.

Some showed me entering the office. Others showed me sleeping inside my apartment. A few had been taken while I was talking to Anna.

In the center of the wall was a photograph of a woman I didn’t recognize.

Her face had been crossed out in red ink.

Beneath it, someone had written:

SUBJECT ONE — FAILED

I searched through the files until I found one with my name on it.

SUBJECT TWO: PRIDE

My hands shook as I opened it.

The first page contained a list of treatments, memory tests, and recorded blackouts. At the bottom was a note signed by Dr. Reyes:

The subject remembers the murder every night. Reset remains necessary.

“Reset?” I whispered.

A small recorder sat beside the file.

I pressed play.

My own voice came through the speaker.

“Test number twelve. My name is Pride. I remember what happened to Anna.”

There was a pause, followed by quiet crying.

“I killed her.”

I nearly dropped the recorder.

“But Dr. Reyes made me do it,” the recording continued.

“He told me Anna was dangerous. He showed me videos. He made me believe she was following me.”

My recorded voice became calmer.

“If you’re hearing this, the treatment failed again. Don’t trust him.”

A door slammed somewhere behind me.

I switched off the recorder and hid beneath the desk.

Footsteps entered the room.

Slow. Heavy. Unhurried.

“Pride,” Dr. Reyes called gently. “You weren’t supposed to remember this much.”

Through the gap beneath the desk, I saw his polished black shoes stop only a few feet away.

My phone lit up in my hand.

A message from Anna appeared:

HE’S STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU.

Another message followed:

BUT I’M BEHIND YOU.

My breath caught.

Something cold touched the back of my neck.

I turned slowly.

Anna was crouching beneath the desk with me.

Blood covered the front of her clothes.

“Don’t scream,” she whispered. “He still thinks I’m dead.”