Chapter Fourty Five
483 Words
Xavier’s POV
The school was silent that night.
No footsteps, no laughter — just the hum of distant lights and the echo of his heartbeat.
He shouldn’t have come back. Every nerve in his body screamed that.
But the thought of that file — of her name stamped in red — wouldn’t let him rest.
He needed to know how far it went.
He’d stolen Eli’s keycard again. This time, he knew exactly which door it opened.
Down in the basement hallway, he found it: a small, reinforced door marked Authorized Personnel Only. The scanner light blinked red, then green as he swiped the card.
The lock clicked.
The room was colder than he expected — filled with the sterile smell of metal and antiseptic. Rows of monitors glowed faintly, their screens showing streams of data, neurological scans, and memory graphs labeled with codes.
And there, on one of the active screens:
SUBJECT M-01 — Neural Pattern Reconstruction: 87%
Xavier’s chest tightened.
Eighty-seven percent?
He stepped closer, scrolling through the data. Each line was worse than the last.
> Cognitive fragments merging spontaneously.
Memory loop acceleration observed.
Unstable emotional recall detected.
He opened the most recent entry — a timestamp from less than twelve hours ago.
> Test Note: “Subject displays spontaneous recall of pre-conditioning memories. Containment protocol pending.”
“Containment protocol?” he muttered. “What the hell—”
A soft beep interrupted him. One of the side monitors flickered — a surveillance feed.
His stomach dropped.
The screen showed a live video feed of Mila’s bedroom.
She was asleep, hair tangled, breathing soft.
For a second, Xavier thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Then he noticed the small blinking red light on her nightstand. A camera.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
He backed away from the screen, rage boiling through him.
They were watching her.
Studying her.
Then the feed suddenly changed — static, then a dark figure stepping into frame. A man, tall, moving quietly toward her bed. Xavier froze.
“Hey!” he shouted instinctively, though she couldn’t hear him.
The man reached out — his face caught by the faint glow from the hall. Xavier’s breath caught.
It was Mila’s father.
He was adjusting something on the nightstand — the device.
The screen went black.
Xavier staggered back, heart pounding.
He needed to get out. Needed to warn her.
But before he could move, a voice came from behind him — calm, deep, and far too close.
> “You shouldn’t be here, son.”
Xavier turned slowly.
Mr. Miller stood in the doorway, shadows cutting across his face. His tone was polite — almost gentle — but his eyes were cold.
> “Curiosity,” he said softly, “is dangerous in the wrong hands.”
And as he stepped forward, the door slid shut behind him with a heavy click.
- Writer
