Back at my parents' home, I tried to settle into the familiar surroundings, but everything felt different now. My mother fussed over me, her eyes red from worry. She hugged me tightly, her arms trembling slightly as she held me. My father stood nearby; his usually stoic face softened with relief, though a shadow of concern lingered in his eyes. They had been so worried, their anxiety almost palpable as they looked me over, searching for any visible signs of injury.
I forced a smile, trying to reassure them. "I'm fine," I said, trying to sound casual. "Really, I am. I just needed some time away." I could tell they wanted to believe me, but the unease never fully left their faces.
As they finally relaxed a bit, I tried to do the same, but the memories came rushing back—what they had done to me, the experiments, the agony of my body being altered, twisted into something unrecognisable. I could still feel the phantom echoes of those invasive procedures, the cold, clinical atmosphere, and the faceless men in white coats. They had taken everything familiar about me and replaced it with… something else. The pain and fear from those days were still fresh, like raw wounds barely scabbed over.
And now I had a family who was completely in the dark, their relief oblivious to the truth of what had been done to me. They didn't know the cost I had paid or the transformations that still felt like strange and unwelcome guests in my body. I clenched my fists, the sense of betrayal burning in my chest.
It was about time I had done something about this family.
I was sitting in the main hall, setting down the glass, when Maranda opened the door, with Mom following quickly behind. I noticed how Maranda stood there with her hand on her cocked hip, wearing that coy smirk on her lips as she peered at me.
Also noting how tentative and uneasy Mom was beside her. Our conversation at the restaurant roared back to the forefront of my mind. Biting down the anger at what she had said that day as I rose.
"What's this about Jason?" Maranda asked, in this rather seductive tone of hers. I wondered if she always did that when Baran wasn't around, or was it just me? I hadn't the foggiest idea.
However, that wasn't going to stop me from doing what needed to be done with this family.
"You're going to help me bring a new order to this family," I said sternly, letting them know this wasn't up for debate, nor was it negotiable.
"Oh?" Maranda cooed while Mom had a perplexed look on her face.
"What do you mean, Jason?" Mom asked, and I noticed how she had dolled herself up on the off chance I'd show up. For a sixty year-old woman, she still was a beauty.
"Seeing how neither of you stopped what happened that night, either you help, or well, things will get messy for you," I said, darkly.
"I don't respond well to threats, Jason." Mom's eyes took a hard tone to them as she glared at me.