The remnants of my childhood home revealed the passage of time. Dad's fury about the garden's unkempt state would have been immeasurable. The grass had vanished, replaced by various herbs reaching up to my hips. A fallen tree leaned against the house, damaging the roof, while other trees sprawled wildly across our property, creating a semblance of a forest.
The blue hue on the walls had faded, and the doors were nowhere to be found. The porch fence was damp and rotting, and the stairs leading to it groaned under my weight. The house seemed a silent witness to the ravages of time, and if anything lurked inside, I might not survive the night.
Entering through the front door, I found a small room with a closet for coats and shoes. Passing through the old communist doors into the main hallway, the once-strong orange color on the walls had now faded to an unappealing shade. The torn carpet exposed lime-green linoleum, a testament to a bygone era.
Moving to the backside of the house, where the fallen tree breached the wall, I found my way blocked. The branches covered the stairs leading to the second floor where our rooms were. Most of our valuable belongings seemed to have been looted, likely before the chaos unfolded. The scene hinted that I might not be alone.
Entering the first room on the left, my sister Alice's room, I discovered a space frozen in time. White furniture lay destroyed against the further wall, and the paint had peeled away over the years. A layer of dust covered a wooden floor riddled with cracks.
Wind whispered through broken windows, playing with my hair as moonlight bathed the empty house. Despite its dilapidated state, the familiarity of the surroundings made it feel like the past was still alive. Occasionally, small footprints from different animals adorned the furniture, and a bird's nest nestled on a drawer.
My hand traced the gray walls of the corridor as I moved toward the more open part of the hallway. Two doors faced me, one leading to smaller storage rooms, while my room awaited on the right side. Rusty locks resisted my efforts, but eventually, I entered my room filled with posters of race drivers and superheroes.
Approaching the window that covered a third of the opposite wall, memories flooded back. My work table, my picture, and a half-burnt candle evoked a sense of nostalgia. The realization hit me hard—I had left my family behind, and the guilt was overwhelming. Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the picture in the frame, broken and alone.
Somehow, I found myself back in my bed, in that dusty, old, soaked mattress. Rubbing my eyes, I surveyed the room. The nostalgic feeling clashed with the reality of a disheveled wardrobe, faded walls, and a window without glass. The first light of the morning hurt my eyes, and a soft grunt escaped my lips.
"Ughh." It took about ten minutes for my eyes to adjust, a downside to my night vision. Once acclimated, I reached for the stolen bag from Dad's office containing vital intel.
The documents detailed various experiments labeled under the code B.E.S. From the papers, I gathered that I was Subject One, constantly subjected to blood samples and new formula trials aimed at enhancing human abilities.
Subjects B.E.S. 1 to 5 showed no results, with some of them dying due to the formula's aggressiveness. The only compatible blood type was mine. Subject G-048, injected with B.E.S. 6, displayed exceptional results—doubled lung capacity, increased pain tolerance, and heightened hearing.
As I delved deeper, I discovered the darker side of the experiments. Subject G-163, who successfully regrew limbs and stopped cancer, exhibited abnormal behavior. The log detailed hypersensitivity to all senses, skin turning black, hair loss, partial blindness, and multiple fractured bones.
A chilling note from Dr. Durnbell suggested postponing B.E.S. 7 testing, while Dr. Kovac's directive was clear: "Continue." The health log for G-163 ended abruptly, leaving ominous questions lingering in the air.