As the metallic clatter of the elevator's gears echoed off the narrow walls, Emily, Victor, Laura, and I sat in an almost suffocating silence. Not a single word was spoken. It felt like no one wanted to—or maybe no one had the strength—to comment on what we'd just witnessed.
For them, it all seemed almost routine, just another day on the job. But for me... it was different. Not long ago, I didn't even know anomalies had the power to turn humans into other anomalies. Now, with that truth hammering inside my head, my stomach twisted with a kind of surprise that bordered on discomfort.
The reason for that discomfort? It's simple. If anomalies can transform humans into anomalies, then how many of them weren't human once? That thought spread through my mind like an irritating whisper, impossible to ignore.
For some reason, it led me to an even more unsettling question: had I ever truly been 100% an anomaly? I mean... even carrying these memories, who's to say they're actually mine, and not just implanted fragments—echoes of another life I never lived?
Even in Althea's case—whose situation resembled mine in some ways—there were enough differences to make it impossible, in good conscience, to lump us into the same category. Either way, I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, at least for now.
There were more pressing matters demanding my attention, and I couldn't afford to lose myself in comparisons at that moment. After my mental wandering, only a few seconds passed before the elevator doors finally slid open with a soft metallic chime. Victor, Emily, and Laura stepped out first, still wrapped in that heavy, suffocating silence.
I followed without a word, nothing but a shadow behind them. When we reached the same double doors as before—the ones leading to the hospital's less restricted wing—no words were necessary.
I let my body sink slowly into the darkness, like slipping beneath a deep ocean, and dove into the grim world waiting on the other side. From that point on, the path became monotonous, almost hypnotic. I moved behind them in absolute silence, gliding like a cold current through the shadows, watching every step they took until we reached the hospital's exit.
When we finally left the hospital, the first thing that caught my eye was the sky, streaked in shades of orange and violet—the day was about to say goodbye. We hadn't entered all that early, but when we'd walked through those doors hours before, the sun had still been bright enough to warm the asphalt.
Now, though, the light was fading fast, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Honestly, I counted it as a stroke of luck. Night had always been my ally—with it, footsteps became quieter, shadows more generous. And if there was one thing we wanted to avoid at all costs, it was drawing unnecessary attention.
It was only once we got into Emily's car that I finally allowed myself to return to the "Real World" In the blink of an eye, I reappeared in the seat next to Victor. His reaction? Just a curious gasp and a brief glance in my direction—nothing more.
In a way, it wasn't so different from the last few times. Victor treated my presence and my odd habits like just another detail in the scenery, not even worth mentioning. Maybe to him, I was just an anomaly he'd learned to tolerate.
Just before Emily turned the key and started the car, my eyes flicked back to the hospital one last time. Its façade, bathed in the cold glow of early morning, seemed even farther away now, as if it were bidding us farewell.
The engine purred softly, and we slowly pulled away. For a few moments, the silence inside the car felt almost tangible, too heavy to be just the absence of sound. I could hear the faint hum of the motor and the rhythmic thump of the tires against the asphalt.
Then Emily broke the silence—her voice low but steady, her eyes flicking between me and Victor in the rearview mirror: "So... where are we going?"
At her question, Victor turned his gaze away from the scenery sliding past the window, following the car's gentle sway. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and for a few seconds he said nothing, as if weighing each word before speaking.
The air inside the car seemed to grow denser, the engine noise filling the void between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm but carried a weight that was hard to ignore: "Maplewood Park, at the corner of Cedar Hollow Avenue"
The car fell into an uncomfortable silence after Victor's words, as if even the air was holding its breath. Honestly, I had no clue where that park was—and thinking about it, I realized that said a lot about me.
Since becoming an anomaly, the only solid piece of information I had was that the base I was currently at was somewhere in America. Beyond that, my grasp of the world's geography was almost nonexistent. I'd never bothered to ask, never had enough curiosity to seek those answers.
Maybe noticing the curiosity written all over my face, Victor seemed to catch what was going through my mind and answered in his own way: "Ah... you probably don't know what a park is, do you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his expression softening into a small, understanding smile: "A park is a place where kids — and even some adults — go to have fun, play, or just spend some time together enjoying the fresh air"
I blinked, making sure I'd heard him right, and turned back to Victor: (No... I know perfectly well what a park is. I'm not that clueless)
My thoughts didn't reach them, and in the end, the three of them just stared at me with a curious look — almost as if they were watching a kid seeing a park for the first time. Well... technically, they weren't wrong. Even in the memories I carried from my human life, I'd almost never been to a park. Not as a kid, not as a teenager.
So what did I do, if I never went to places like that? Well, what every good student did — or at least what I thought I was supposed to do: study. While other kids ran through fields or rode their bikes, I had my nose buried in books, solving problems and trying to stay ahead for the next test.
Anyway, as I got lost in my thoughts, Emily — who at some point had turned her gaze away from us and was now focused on the road ahead — responded to Victor's words in a tone that was casual but curious: "If it's at Maplewood Park... then it's close to your old house, right?"
She paused for a moment, as if trying to piece together what Victor had said: "And what exactly are we going to do there?"
Hearing her, Victor leaned back in his seat, looking for a more comfortable position. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest before his eyes shifted back to the scenery passing by outside the window, as if he were thinking out loud: "So, from what I understand, our little anomaly here could actually help Sara... if she managed to find the anomaly that put her in that state. Or something like that"
Laura was the next to speak. Until then, she had stayed quiet, just observing everything. Her voice was hesitant but heavy with concern: "Will she still be there?" she asked, frowning slightly: "It's been months since it happened. As far as I know, anomalies rarely stay in the same place that long... unless something's keeping them there, maybe something tied to their anomalous power or some special circumstance"
At her words, Victor just shrugged, but he couldn't hide the weight that settled over him — his expression darkened slightly, as if a shadow had passed over his eyes.
Without thinking too much, the first thing that came to mind slipped out, trying to break the heavy mood: (Don't worry... she'll be there. I'm sure of it)
Hearing my voice echo inside their minds, Victor and Laura both turned to look at me at the same time, almost in perfect sync. Emily, however, didn't turn — she just kept watching me through the rearview mirror, her eyes reflecting the same unease I saw in the other two.
For a brief moment, the car was wrapped in thick silence, as if even the engine had gone quiet just to hear what would come next. Then Victor broke it, leaning forward slightly: "Why do you sound so sure about that?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. His eyes narrowed, as if trying to figure something out from my expression: "Did we miss part of the conversation?"
Laura and Emily seemed to share Victor's doubts exactly. For a moment, I caught myself wondering: why was I so sure? When I stopped to think about it, I realized my statement had been almost automatic, as if the words had just slipped out before I could even rationalize them. The strange thing was that, despite that, an unshakable confidence stayed with me, solid as stone.
I knew the anomaly would still be at the park — or at least, that's how it felt. There was no logic behind that certainty, no proof, nothing to back it up. It was just a feeling, deep and unsettling, as if the universe itself was whispering that truth to me and I had no choice but to believe it.
In the end, all I had was that strange "Feeling" pulsing in the back of my mind. I sighed and, with nothing else to offer them, shared my thoughts with the three of them: (I don't know...) I admitted, shrugging: (Maybe... just a hunch?)
Victor, Emily, and Laura stayed silent after my words. Victor and Laura exchanged a quick glance, as if silently confirming what they had just heard, while Emily kept her eyes locked on me in the mirror, studying every detail of my expression.
Then, almost as if rehearsed, the three of them let out a heavy sigh — a sound carrying a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance. In the end, after what I'd said, we kept heading toward the park Victor had mentioned.
The drive was, honestly, surprisingly long — around forty-five minutes, maybe a little more. The silence was almost absolute the entire way; no one seemed willing to start a conversation. Even Laura, who was usually the most talkative among us, stayed quiet.
She spent the whole ride staring out the window, lost in thought, following the passing scenery. The steady hum of the engine and the occasional sway of the car were the only things breaking the silence, giving the moment an almost contemplative atmosphere.
When the car finally stopped and we all got out, my first reaction was instinctive: I scanned our surroundings. A gentle breeze blew through the street, carrying with it the smell of damp grass and the distant sound of a dog barking.
There were hardly any pedestrians around, which wasn't surprising — it was already late. The warm yellow glow of the streetlights cast soft patches of light on the asphalt, leaving the rest swallowed by calm shadows.
The place sat right in the heart of a residential neighborhood, with typical American houses: two stories, simple porches, and small, well-kept front yards, a few windows still glowing and revealing snippets of other people's lives.
But right then, nothing mattered more than the park in front of us. It was simple, almost ordinary at first glance: a few rusty playground structures, a slide worn down by time, and swings creaking softly in the wind.
The ground was scattered with a thin layer of dry leaves, and the air carried that distinct smell of damp wood mixed with rust. According to Victor, it was right there — on that lone swing, still swaying ever so slightly — that his sister had been when it all happened.