Ashley's POV

As Trent shared his Christmas photos, my attention was drawn to his brother's captivating gaze. I found myself getting lost in the depths of his piercing eyes, mesmerized by his undeniable charm. Trent's voice broke the spell, bringing me back to reality. "Babe, I know you're feeling me, right?" he said with a knowing smile as if he'd caught me red-handed, indulging in a secret admiration for his brother. 

"Yeah," I lied, no surprise there. I mean, who wouldn't hide the fact that they're secretly pining for their boyfriend's brother? It's a weird and uncomfortable truth, but there it is. And to make matters worse, I'm pretty sure Trent only dates me because I'm the school's resident bombshell, not because he sees me for who I am. 

"Can I see your family's Christmas photos from last year?" he asked, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, gentle kiss.

I immediately feigned a cough, and he immediately sprang into concern. "Babe, are you okay?" he asked, quickly grabbing the bottle of water from the passenger seat table and offering it to me with a worried expression. 

There's no way I could show him any Christmas photos, I thought to myself, because the truth is, we didn't even celebrate Christmas last year, and he wouldn't even recognize me in my old pictures.

"Why is it that every time I ask to see your old pictures, you suddenly develop a cough?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion. His tone was laced with accusation as if he could see right through my evasive maneuvers.

"Ugh, not the picture thing again," I rolled my eyes inwardly. The truth was painfully simple: the hottie he was gazing at with such adoration wasn't the same person from last month. She was a completely transformed version of the nerd I used to be. No way could I confess that to him - he'd never believe me, or worse, think I'm crazy for changing so much.

*_Flashback_*

"No way, Dad! We can't move again!" I yelled, my voice shaking with frustration. But he just gave me that calm, annoying tone... "Hey, young lady, watch it." Like, he didn't even care how I felt about uprooting my life... again.

"Why are you always doing this? You don't act like a dad!" I spat, anger still simmering in my voice. I bent down to pick up my glasses, which had slipped off my face, leaving me half-blind. The familiar frustration and resentment welled up inside me, making my words come out bitter and sharp.

"I'm doing this for the both of us," he muttered, plopping down in his chair and turning on the TV to watch his sci-fi shows. He was already tuning me out, escaping into his world like he always did.

I just stared at him, tears streaming down my face. It was hard to believe this was the same man who used to be the best dad in the world. Before Mom died, he was always there for me, supportive and loving. But now...now he was a stranger, lost in his grief and anger.

How could he be so nonchalant, laughing at some silly show with his lab coat on, munching on cereal like a teenager, while his only child stood in front of him, tears streaming down her face, heart shattered into a million pieces? It was like he was in a different world, oblivious to my pain.

"Dad, I need a logical explanation," I said, my voice now barely above a whisper, hoping he'd finally listen. "Please, I don't want to move." I searched his face for any sign of understanding, but he just kept staring at the TV, his expression detached.

"I don't know why you care, it's not like you have any friends here." 

His words cut deep and the worst part was, he was right. I was a total nerd, with thick glasses, uneven skin, and boobs that seemed to stop downloading at Twenty percent. I was eighteen, but I looked like I was fifteen, maybe even fourteen. I felt like a freak, and his words only reinforced that feeling.

But I didn't run upstairs to cry like I usually would. Instead, I stood my ground, looking him dead in the eye. "Dad, I need an explanation. I thought you got a job teaching at the college last week. Why are we moving again?" My voice trembled, but I refused to back down. I was determined to get some answers.

His expression turned grave, and he hesitated before speaking in a low, serious tone. "That's exactly why we're leaving. They're after us." The words sent a chill down my spine. Who was after us? And why? I felt like I was living in a bad spy movie, but this was my life. Fear and confusion wrestled inside me, making my mind race with questions.

"Who?!" I demanded, my voice shaking with fear and confusion. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

"It started with an experiment in the lab... I was just playing around with some chemicals, trying to help my students with their projects. But things went wrong. The aftermath was... bad. All the students who were in the lab with me started developing... weird characteristics. And now the college is after me, the government is after me... the whole country is after me." He looked at me with a desperate intensity. "First thing tomorrow, we're leaving. We have to disappear."

It was all too much for me to process. My mind reeled as I tried to grasp the magnitude of what my dad was telling me. But it was too late, my emotions overwhelmed me. I turned and ran upstairs, tears streaming down my face, sobs choking my breath. I felt like my whole world was crashing down around me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

I didn't run to my usual refuge - my room. Instead, I ran to his lab, anger, and betrayal swelling inside me like a storm. I slammed my fists on the counter, sending glasses shattering, chemicals spilling everywhere, and equipment crashing to the floor. The sound of breaking glass and splintering wood was cathartic, a physical release for the turmoil brewing inside me. I stood amidst the chaos, my heart racing, my eyes blazing with tears and fury, as I confronted the source of all my pain - my dad's obsessive work.

I felt a strange, disorienting sensation like I was spinning around the world, my axis tilting wildly out of control. And then, a searing headache struck, the worst I'd ever experienced in my life. It was as if my brain was being squeezed in a vice, the pain so intense it was almost blinding. But just as suddenly as it began, the headache vanished, leaving me gasping and bewildered, wondering what had just happened.

I fled to my room, throwing myself onto the bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. I knew I had to start packing, but I couldn't muster the energy yet. It was only 2 pm; I had plenty of time. I told myself I'd get up later, finish packing, and be ready for our hasty departure by tomorrow morning. But for now, I just lay there, buried my face in the pillow, and let the tears flow, trying to process the chaos that had become my life.

I woke with a start as a loud bang on my door made me jump. "Ashley, hope you're ready! Get up, let's go!" my dad's urgent voice called out. I groggily reached over to my nightstand and squinted at the clock. 7:00 AM. What?! I couldn't believe it. I had set my alarm for 9, thinking I had plenty of time to pack and get ready. Panic set in as I realized I was running ridiculously late.

I had the strangest dream ever, but it was quickly forgotten as I rushed to get ready. I hastily got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, still trying to shake off the fogginess of sleep. But as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, I let out

a blood-curdling scream.