Kai Langford - December 2120
I keep running until my body finally gives out before my mind does.
My lungs burn with every breath, each inhale scraping through my chest as cold air tears at my throat. Snow crunches beneath my boots while branches catch against my clothes and skin, but I barely notice any of it. I don't know how far I've come anymore. Somewhere along the way I stopped paying attention to where I was going and focused only on putting distance between myself and everything that happened.
The headache hasn't eased since the fight.
If anything, it's gotten worse.
A relentless pressure throbs behind my eyes, making it feel as though something is trying to force its way out of my skull. Every few steps my vision threatens to blur, and I have to concentrate on something solid just to keep myself grounded in reality.
Eventually a tree catches me when my legs threaten to give out completely.
I stumble against the trunk and brace myself with one hand, breathing hard as I struggle to pull enough air into my lungs. The rough bark digs into my palm, grounding me just enough that I don't collapse immediately.
As I lower my gaze, I look at my hands.
They're covered in blood.
Dark stains coat my fingers and palms, dried in some places and fresh in others. For a moment I simply stare at them, unable to look away.
I try to remember where it came from.
I try to remember what happened during the fight with Murphy, but every time I reach for the memory, I find nothing. Just gaps and missing pieces. Fragments scattered so far apart that I can't connect them into anything meaningful.
My stomach twists because I already know what that means.
I lost control again.
I remember my eyes drifting over the destruction surrounding me. Deep gouges cut through the snow and frozen earth. Branches litter the ground as though a storm passed through the area. And-
A cold feeling settles heavily in my chest. The image of Murphy suddenly flashes through my mind.
I see him lying motionless in the snow, blood soaking into the ground beneath him. Multiple stab wounds cover his body, and despite how hard I try, I can't remember delivering any of them.
The memory comes in broken flashes.
A knife.
Someone screaming.
Shadows moving.
Then nothing.
Murphy is dead and I can't even remember killing him. The thought alone makes my hands shake. I had always wanted to kill him for what he did to us, to what he did to my uncle, but this feels different.
Then another memory surfaces immediately afterwards.
The girl... The Special Division operator. I remember the fear in her eyes. I remember the way she curled into herself when she realised she couldn't escape. Most of all, I remember how close I came to killing her.
The memory is incomplete, but I can still feel it... That urge.
That overwhelming need to eliminate the threat standing in front of me. I had been seconds away from ending her life. If something hadn't interrupted me, I don't know whether she would still be alive and that possibility makes my chest tighten painfully.
My knees finally give out and I slide down the tree trunk until I'm sitting in the snow. The cold barely registers anymore. Everything feels distant beneath the pounding in my head.
I grip my hair with both hands and press my palms against my temples as if I can somehow force the pain to stop. But It doesn't work and nothing seems to work.
Around me, my shadows drift across the snow in slow, silent movements. Normally their presence is familiar. They've been with me for so long that they're almost comforting. However, right now, I can't stand the sight of them. They move closer as if sensing my distress, gathering around me in protective circles.
"Just go away" I mutter.
The shadows hesitate for a moment before continuing their slow movements. Of course they do, because they're not separate from me. They're part of me, which means everything they've done is part of me too.
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it, and the sound feels hollow in the empty forest.
"What's wrong with me?"
The question disappears into the darkness unanswered.
I genuinely thought things were getting better.
After leaving the facility, I finally started believing I could build something beyond survival. I had Ethan. I had Noah. I had a place that felt like home and people who cared whether I came back alive.
For the first time in forever, I had started imagining a future. Now it feels like that future is slipping through my fingers and the worst part is that I don't understand why.
Every day it feels like I have less control instead of more.
Every blackout lasts longer.
Every gap in my memory feels deeper.
Every time I lose myself, somebody gets hurt.
Maybe my father was right after all. Everything I do touch ends up destroyed or dead. The thought arrives so suddenly that it makes me flinch. I hate myself for even considering it, but once it appears, I can't force it away.
Maybe I was never supposed to live outside the facility.
Maybe all the others ever saw when they looked at me was the truth. A weapon.
Not a person.
Not a son.
Not someone capable of having a normal life.
My throat tightens painfully.
I look down at my hands again, desperately searching for something that proves otherwise, but all I see is blood. They are shaking badly now. I try clenching them into fists, but the tremors don't stop.
An ache settles heavily in my chest. Not physical pain, but something deeper, something lonelier.
I wish Ethan was here.
The thought hurts more than the headache.
If Ethan were here, he wouldn't care about the blood. He wouldn't care about the death or the destruction surrounding me. He would sit beside me anyway and take my hands without hesitation.
He would tell me to breathe and steady my hands by wrapping his around them.
He would look at me the same way he always does, as though I'm still worth saving no matter how much evidence suggests otherwise.
For a moment, I can almost picture it... Almost. But Ethan isn't here and everything is not fine. That reality settles over me like a weight.
What happens if this gets worse?
What happens if next time I blank out and Ethan is standing beside me?
What happens if Noah is?
The thought makes me feel sick and I can picture it far too clearly.
Ethan reaching for me because he trusts me completely or Noah stepping in because he wants to help. Then another gap... Another missing memory... Another body on the ground.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head hard enough to make the headache flare.
"No," I whisper. The word sounds weak.
"I would never hurt them."
I want to believe it. More than anything, I want those words to be true. But the evidence is everywhere.
It's on my hands. It's scattered across the snow behind me. It's hidden inside all the memories I can't access.
How can I trust myself when I don't even know what I'm capable of anymore?
A shiver runs through me, and for once it has nothing to do with the cold. For the first time since escaping the facility, a thought takes root that I can't immediately dismiss.
Maybe Ethan and Noah aren't in danger because of my father, or Special Division or GeneX.
Maybe the greatest threat to them is sitting right here beneath this tree. And the most terrifying part is that I no longer know how to prove that fear wrong.
My head suddenly throbs with a sharp intensity that steals the air from my lungs.
A pained sound escapes me as I double over, one hand digging into the snow while the other clamps against the side of my head.
"Ugh..."
The pain is unbearable.
It feels as though something is clawing its way through my skull, tearing apart every thought I try to hold onto. My breathing becomes uneven as wave after wave crashes through me, each one stronger than the last.
Around me, the shadows begin to stir. Not because I'm controlling them but because they're reacting. Darkness spills across the snow in restless movements, twisting around the trees and stretching further into the forest as my grip on myself starts to slip.
"No..." I mutter through clenched teeth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on something. Anything.
Ethan.
Noah.
The school.
Home.
But every image fractures before I can hold onto it.
The pounding in my head grows louder until it feels like a second heartbeat echoing through my skull. My vision blurs, the world smearing into indistinct shapes and colours.
I blink hard, trying to clear it, but It only gets worse.
The trees seem farther away than they should be. The snow beneath my hand feels distant, as though I'm touching it through layers of water. Even the cold starts to fade.
Fear coils tightly in my chest, not because of the pain., but because I recognise this feeling.
I've felt it before.
Right before I lose time.
Right before everything goes dark.
My fingers dig into the frozen ground hard enough to hurt, desperate for something solid to anchor me.
"Stay awake" I whisper to myself but the words sound weak and far away and my vision narrows further.
The edges darken first, shadows creeping inward until the world is reduced to a shrinking circle of pale snow and black trees. The darkness continues closing in, swallowing everything piece by piece.
I try to fight it.
I really do.
But my thoughts are slipping through my grasp like water through broken fingers.
The last thing I see is my own blood-covered hand trembling against the snow.
Then even that begins to disappear into the darkness.