The lights return.
I open my eyes.
My body sits up before I tell it to.
But… something's different.
My pillow is damp.
From last night.
I touch my cheek again.
No more water now. But I remember it.
The door slides open.
White coats enter.
"Vitals normal," says the assistant.
"Subject appears unresponsive," says Dr. Lyren.
But I notice something.
His voice is tired. Like he didn't sleep.
The assistant glances behind, like checking for something.
I don't ask.
I never ask.
As we walk down the hall, I hear voices from behind a half-closed door.
"—raid team coming down from central—"
"Tomorrow night? I thought they called it off."
"Security's doubled. If they find the test subjects—"
The door closes.
The word raid sticks in my mind.
I don't know what it means.
But the way they said it… like it was important. Like it would change something.
Change is rare here.
I walk into the white room again.
It smells the same.
It feels the same.
I sit on the cold chair. The screen lights up.
"Initiating Observation. Emotional Phase Three."
The voice from the ceiling doesn't change.
The images begin again.
A crying baby.
A house burning.
A woman smiling.
Then—
A field.
Green.
Blue sky.
Two silhouettes.
The warmth from the dream comes back.
Just a little.
Not strong. Not loud.
Just… there.
It presses into my chest like a whisper. Like a breath I forgot how to take.
The next image flashes.
Stone. Crushed bodies.
Screaming.
I flinch.
It's not big. Just a twitch. But I feel it.
Then the water returns.
From my eyes.
It slides down before I understand it.
"He's crying."
"Mark that. Replay image twelve and thirteen."
"Is it pain? Fear? Recognition?."
I don't know.
I just feel something.
Like a small, flickering shape inside me, knocking on a locked door.
I still don't understand it.
But I ask myself again—
Why is there water in my eyes?
What… am I remembering?
I have no answer.
But the silence around me feels smaller than before.
Like it's waiting.
---
Afterward, they give me food.
Gray. Warm. No taste.
I eat it. Slowly.
I feel a tightness in my throat. Not pain. Not hunger.
Something else.
I don't speak of it.
They clean me. Change my clothes. Take more blood.
They measure my brain. My bones. My blood flow.
A voice says numbers. I don't listen.
But I notice things I never did before.
A shaking hand. A panicked breath. A missing keycard at one station.
Whispers when I'm not meant to hear them.
I think of the word again.
Raid.
Still don't know what it means.
But the fear in their voices says enough.
The lights dim.
That means sleep.
I lie on the same bed. Same corner. Same ceiling.
But I don't close my eyes right away.
I stare at the vent above me.
There's a soft whirring sound.
I wonder how long it's been spinning.
I wonder why I never noticed it before.
I wonder why I'm wondering anything at all.
The warmth tries to return. A whisper, deep inside.
I don't know what it wants.
But tonight, I don't feel empty.
Not completely.
My eyes stay dry.
But something lingers behind them.
I close them.
Darkness again.
But this time…
I wait.
The lights wake me again.
The bed is cold and stiff beneath me.
I blink.
There is no warmth. No whisper.
Only the familiar emptiness.
I move without thought.
Eat without taste.
Listen without hearing.
The voices behind the doors are just noise.
Words I do not understand.
Raid.
Security.
Test subjects.
They mean nothing to me now.
But something feels… different.
There are more eyes.
White coats linger longer than before.
A man in black watches from the hallway.
I don't know his name.
I don't know why he's there.
I do not ask.
I sit on the cold chair.
The screen turns on.
Images flash.
No feeling. No flicker.
No water in my eye.
"Observation normal."
"No signs of emotional response."
"Continue monitoring."
I want to ask—
What happened to the feeling?
But no words come.
No spark inside.
The day repeats itself.
Meals. Tests. Silence.
No smiles.
No tears.
Only emptiness.
I do remember something, though.
The last time I saw water in my eye.
I do not know why it was there.
I do not know what to call it.
I call it water.
It comes sometimes.
Like rain on a window I cannot open.
But now it is gone.
At night, the darkness comes again.
But I do not wait.
I close my eyes and sleep.
Because I have nothing else.
The darkness surrounds me.
I lie still.
The silence is thick.
But then —
A sound.
Soft.
Sharp.
Like a thin drill scraping the ceiling.
I open my eyes slowly.
The room is dark.
Only shadows move.
The sound continues.
Steady. Quiet.
Tick… tick… tick…
I do not understand it.
I do not know what makes the noise.
But it pulls at something inside me.
A faint thread of attention.
I listen.
The noise is not loud.
Not painful.
Just… there.
I close my eyes again.
The thread slips away.
Sleep takes me once more.