The first thing she noticed was the cold. Not the biting kind that seeps through gloves, but a deep, bone-deep chill that clung to her skin like a second layer. Her fingers twitched against the metal table, the surface rough under her palms. The air smelled of rust and antiseptic, a metallic tang that made her throat tight. She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt heavy, as if weighted by something unseen.
A flicker of light above her. A hum, low and constant, like the growl of some unseen machine. She blinked, the overhead lamp casting sharp shadows across the walls. The room was empty except for her. No doors. No windows. Just a single row of metal chairs arranged in a semicircle, their surfaces gleaming with a sheen of something oily.
Her head throbbed. Memories came in fragments—a flash of red, the scent of smoke, a voice calling her name. But the words slipped through her fingers like sand. She pressed her palms to her temples, breathing through the ache. A door slid open with a hiss behind her.
“You’re awake,” a man said. His voice was calm, too calm, like he’d rehearsed it. He stood in the doorway, his face obscured by the glare of the lights. His uniform was gray, the same as the walls. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”
“Where am I?” Her voice sounded foreign, rough.
The man stepped forward, his boots clicking against the floor. “You’re in a safe place.” He gestured to the chairs. “Sit. We need to run some tests.”
She didn’t move. The word “safe” tasted like a lie. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Voss.” He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re here because you were chosen.”
“Chosen for what?”
“To remember.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small device, a black cylinder with a glowing strip at the top. “This won’t hurt.”
The moment the device touched her skin, a sharp jolt shot through her. Her vision blurred. She gasped, gripping the edge of the table. The room tilted. Then, as quickly as it started, the pain vanished.
Dr. Voss stepped back, his expression unreadable. “You’ll be fine.”
“What did you do to me?”
“Just a routine scan.” He turned toward the door. “We’ll start tomorrow. You’ll need rest.”
The door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone again. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. The cold in the room felt heavier now, like it had seeped into her bones.
The next morning, the tests began. They were simple at first—answering questions, tracing patterns on a screen. But soon, the questions grew stranger. “What is your mother’s favorite color?” “How many windows are in your childhood home?” She didn’t know the answers. The more she tried to recall, the more the memories slipped away, like water through her fingers.
By the third day, the tests changed. They inserted a needle into her arm, and a strange liquid coursed through her veins. Her vision blurred again, but this time, it didn’t fade. She saw images—flickering, disjointed. A city burning. A man in a black coat. A symbol etched into his skin, the same one now glowing faintly on her wrist.
She woke up hours later, her skin clammy, her head pounding. The symbol had grown darker, its lines more defined. She stared at it, tracing the edges with her finger. It felt warm, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“What is that?” she whispered.
No one answered.
The tests continued, each one more invasive than the last. They made her lie on a table that hummed with energy, electrodes attached to her temples. She screamed when the current hit, but no one came. The pain was sharp, electric, and it left her disoriented for hours afterward.
She began to notice the other patients. They sat in the chairs, their eyes vacant, their skin marked with the same symbols. Some of them whispered, their voices low and broken. She tried to ask them what was happening, but they didn’t respond. Their eyes were empty, like they’d forgotten how to speak.
One night, she heard a voice. It wasn’t in the room—more like it was inside her head, a whisper that curled around her thoughts. “The code is in the symbols,” it said. “Find the pattern.”
She froze. “Who’s there?”
No answer. But the voice stayed, persistent, like a song stuck in her mind. She closed her eyes, focusing on the symbol on her wrist. It was different now, the lines more pronounced, almost alive. She traced it again, feeling the ridges beneath her fingertips.
The next test was different. Instead of questions, they showed her images—scenes from her past, but distorted. A house she didn’t recognize, a car that looked like it belonged to someone else. She tried to make sense of them, but the images shifted, refusing to settle.
“What are you trying to hide?” she asked aloud, her voice trembling.
The room was silent.
That night, the whisper returned. “The code is in the pain,” it said. “Remember what they took from you.”
She didn’t understand, but something in the words felt important. She pressed her palm to the symbol, willing it to reveal its secret. The pain in her head flared, and suddenly, she saw it—a sequence of images, fast and fragmented. A lab. A door. A key.
She gasped, collapsing to her knees. The symbol on her wrist burned with a bright light, and for a moment, she saw the man from the images—the one with the black coat. His face was blurred, but his eyes were clear, filled with something she couldn’t name.
“Who are you?” she asked, though he wasn’t there.
The whisper didn’t answer.
The next day, Dr. Voss returned. He looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and something else—disappointment? She wasn’t sure. “You’re making progress,” he said. “But you need to be careful. The code is dangerous.”
“What code?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured to the chairs. “We have more tests.”
She sat, her hands trembling. The symbol on her wrist pulsed again, and she knew she was close. The truth was out there, hidden in the pain, the symbols, the whispers. She just had to find it before they took it from her again.
The final test came at dawn. They brought her to a room with a single chair, the same as the others. Dr. Voss stood beside her, his expression unreadable. “This is it,” he said. “You’ll remember everything.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“You’ll forget.”
She didn’t want to forget. The symbol on her wrist burned, and she felt the weight of the memories pressing against her mind. She closed her eyes, focusing on the pattern, the code, the whispers. And then, it all came back—the lab, the experiments, the man in the black coat. He had been trying to save her, to protect her from what they were doing.
She opened her eyes. “I remember,” she said.
Dr. Voss’s expression didn’t change. “Good.”
But she knew it wasn’t over. The code was still there, waiting for her to unlock it fully. And she would. No matter the cost.
The next day, she found the key. It was hidden in the symbol, a tiny engraving that only revealed itself under certain light. She used it to open a door she’d never seen before, leading to a room filled with files, photographs, and notes. The truth was there—about the experiments, about the man in the black coat, about herself.
She didn’t know what would happen next. But she knew one thing: she wasn’t going to let them take it from her again.
The symbol on her wrist faded, but the code remained, etched into her mind. And as she stepped out into the world beyond the facility, she knew that the real test was just beginning.
