I lay on the bed, my body sinking into the plush covers, staring at the opening of the curtain as the morning sun spilled. Sleep had evaded me; my mind raced with images of Kai—vivid and haunting—and the chilling weight of being trapped at King Manor, waiting for Sebastian to reveal the madness unfolding in our town. My eyes drift over to the large sofa where Sebastian is still asleep, his long limbs dangling, half his body precariously off the edge. A pang of guilt twists in my gut, and I quietly slide out of bed, wincing as my feet touch the cold black tiles. I make my way to the bathroom—at least I hope it's the bathroom—and gently open the door.
The lavish gray-marbled room feels foreign. I spot some mouthwash and a hairbrush, then catch my reflection in the mirror. I gasp, taken aback by the hollow-eyed specter staring back at me, skin pale as a ghost, heavy dark bags beneath my eyes. I quickly strip down and step into the warm shower, hoping the water can wash away the suffocating weight of the past few days, the heat surrounding me like a comforting cocoon. I want to linger here forever, to forget my reality, but guilt and dread anchor me.
After my shower, I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and then pull on my clothes from last night, dismayed by the stale scent clinging to the fabric. I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I search the cabinets and thankfully discover a body spray. I spritz it on, hoping to mask the turmoil festering inside me. When I step out of the bathroom, I collide with a solid chest. I look up, our eyes locking, and he smiles down at me, a gentle curve that feels misplaced in the chaos around us. I manage a weak smile, but my mind is racing.
"So, are you going to tell me everything now, or do I have to wait while you whip up some pancakes?" I ask, my impatience bubbling over.
Sebastian chuckles lightly. "Attitude looks good on you."
"Oh really? Well, it's going to take more than flattery to keep me quiet. I'm sick of the lies and the secrets, Sebastian. Just tell me what's going on." My voice rises, irritation coursing through me like molten rock.
"Delilah, I promise I'll tell you everything I can. I'm truly sorry it has to be this way. It wasn't my intention at all." His sincerity hits a nerve, but I can't let it soften me.
"If you had a better way to go about it, then you really screwed up," I snap, tracing his every movement as he hesitates before the bathroom.
"Can I at least wash my balls first?" he asks with a smirk, raising an eyebrow, an attempt at levity.
"No, actually you can't. I want you to sit your ass down on the sofa and tell me everything. Now."
He raises his hands in mock defense but slowly makes his way to the couch, and my heart quickens, anticipation and dread clashing within me.
"You're not even going to believe me anyway," he mutters under his breath, a shadow of doubt coloring his tone.
"Don't tell me what I'll believe; just spit it out already." My tone hardens, demanding the truth.
He takes a deep breath, his expression steeling. "Well, as you know, my family has been in charge of this town since the first settlement, over a hundred years ago."
I nod, urging him on as he shakes off the weight of his memories. "They wanted to help the people—sick and dying. A plague festered in their blood, infecting children who would never see the sun rise. Organ failures, severe deformities… children dying before they could even walk."
His eyes bore into mine, the guilt pooling deep within them. "All we have ever done is try to help. So my family began these experiments."
My breath caught in my throat. "What do you mean, experiments? What kind of experiments?"
Sebastian's gaze hardens, and I see the storm brewing within him. "They discovered that with the right subject… clones could be made. Clones of the sick children. It took years to perfect. There were setbacks—horrific ones." He trails off, waiting for my reaction.
Every muscle in my body freezes. "Clones? Why would they do that? Why not just stop the sickness before it starts?"
"I don't know! It felt easier—like a twisted safety net. A guarantee that if a child fell ill, they'd still have a piece of themselves to rely on." His shoulders slump as he exhales, the tension palpable.
"Anyway, it became normal for babies to be born with clones—just in case. If the child became ill... their clone had healthy parts to spare." The words hang in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating my senses.
I close my eyes, nausea swirling in my stomach as the grotesque reality settles in. "As time went on, birth rates improved, and the need for clones faded, but occasionally, a sick child would be born, dragging the rest down with them."
My palms grow slick with sweat as dread thickens my voice. "Who was it?"
His face darkens, shadows inching across his features. "It was you, Delilah. You were born with so many complications that you needed almost everything from your clone."
The words hit me like a blow, and all I can do is stand there, frozen in the horror of our truth.
"No, no, no, that's not true! My parents would have told me. They would have never—could NEVER—do that to another innocent child!" I sprang to my feet, my heart racing like a trapped animal in my chest. The walls of the room closed in, white and sterile, echoing nightmares I thought had long since faded. Vivid memories flashed like desperate strobe lights: I was just a little girl, waiting in those blinding rooms, told it was only a checkup and that I'd wake up soon—so many times.
There was her face, a girl with hair like mine, a reflection of innocence snatched away. "We wanted to stay together!" I yelled, pacing, searching the corners of my mind for clarity. "So you're saying I'm only alive because my parents killed another little girl? Cut her up and gave me all her parts?" The words clawed at my throat, and before I knew it, hot tears betrayed my resolve, spilling over as memories I'd locked away for too long began to unravel. I was wheeled out on a bed, her hand reaching for mine, fingertips brushing until everything faded to black. A name danced just beyond my grasp, and I felt like I was choking on it.
Sebastian shifted closer, reaching out as if to comfort me, but I swatted him away with a mix of frustration and raw need. "And how does Kai fit into all this madness? What else have you been hiding while pretending to be my friend?" My voice dripped with venom, betraying the chaos whirling in my heart. I remembered her, my apparent clone—but she was different, and I couldn't understand why.
He stood closer now, warmth radiating off him, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me. "At that time," he began, his voice low, "they thought they were no longer needed. They underwent certain procedures to alter their looks so they could be adopted by outsiders without any suspicion."
"And Kai... well, he was my clone."
Time froze as the weight of his words crashed over me. My eyes widened, disbelief and rage igniting like a fuse. Fists balled at my sides as I demanded, "What did you just say?" My voice trembled, caught between fury and despair, barely a whisper.
He cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze, like a coward hiding from the truth. "I said…"
But before he could finish, my fist launched forward, colliding hard with his jaw—an explosion of pain, rage, and heartache all bundled into one moment.