POV: Sharon Okoye
> A file wiped clean.
A student who never enrolled.
A memory implanted in others… but not real.
---
It started with a gap.
Not a crack. Not a hole.
A gap — wide, silent, intentional.
The name came up while Sharon searched through the encrypted logs Damian had given her access to — a flicker, quickly overwritten:
> Mikayla Oworu. Subject 04. Status: Unknown.
And then—nothing. No photo. No age. No scan.
Like she had never existed.
Except… Sharon remembered that name.
A girl in her Year 10 music class. Braids always tied up. Soft voice. Nervous smile.
She'd once shared her earbuds with Sharon during detention.
The song playing that day? "Night Shift" by Lucy Dacus. Mikayla had mouthed the lyrics, eyes closed, like she needed the melody to breathe. They hadn't been close, but that moment had stuck.
It wasn't the kind of thing you forget.
And yet — everyone else had.
Sharon leaned back from the screen, heart pounding. The room around her — the cold hum of the server room deep below the admin building — felt suddenly alien. The silence wasn't just absence.
It was erasure.
She clicked again. Nothing. Mikayla's name blinked briefly, then vanished like static swallowed it. The log reloaded. All trace gone.
But Sharon had seen it. Her fingers hovered over the keys.
Subject 04.
Status: Unknown.
She opened a fresh search tab and typed: "Mikayla Oworu – Bellgrave". Results: 0.
She checked the school directory. Nothing.
She opened the digital yearbook from that session. Scanned the photos, one by one. 212 students listed in Year 10 that term.
Mikayla wasn't among them.
But Sharon could still hear her laugh.
Still see the chipped purple nail polish she used to bite off during choir.
Still remember her sitting on the edge of the stage during practice, whispering, "Sometimes I feel like I'm a song no one listens to."
That memory was real.
So why was the school acting like she never existed?
---
🧬 The Firewall Damian Warned Her About
Damian's voice echoed in her mind:
> "Don't go beyond the second firewall. Not unless you're ready to not sleep again."
Sharon hovered over the file labeled: ARCHIVE: TRIAL RECORDINGS.
Password required.
She tried her name.
Rejected.
She tried her mom's name.
Rejected.
Then — a hunch — she typed Mikayla's name backward.
ARUWOALAKYIM
The screen blinked.
Access Granted.
Inside was a directory. All neatly labeled.
Subject 01 – "Control"
Subject 02 – "Obedience"
Subject 03 – "Rage"
Subject 04 – "Memory"
Sharon clicked Subject 04.
There it was again: Mikayla Oworu. Test designation: Memory Implantation Resistance.
And a single video file.
---
🧬 The Video
Sharon pressed play.
The screen filled with harsh white light. A clinical room. Mikayla sat on a metal chair, wires taped to her arms and temples. She looked terrified.
A man in a lab coat stood across from her, clipboard in hand. He had a strange voice — smooth, too calm.
> "Subject 04. Today we're reinforcing the memory loop. Do you recall your trigger?"
Mikayla shook her head. "I don't want to remember anything else. Please. I don't want to be here."
> "Initiate loop. Trigger phrase: Midnight Chords."
Her body stiffened. Then convulsed.
A second technician off-screen yelled, "She's rejecting the implant!"
The screen crackled. Mikayla screamed.
Then silence.
The camera froze.
And the file ended.
---
🧬 A Memory No One Wants Remembered
Sharon sat frozen.
Her hands trembled, the sound of her own breathing loud in the silent room. That wasn't just an experiment.
It was torture.
Memory Implantation. Control. Obedience. Rage.
This wasn't just a school.
This was a lab.
A testing ground.
A place where someone — the Circle? — had decided it was okay to rewrite people. Wipe them. Erase their screams. Erase their lives.
Sharon quickly tried to download the video, but a red alert flashed on-screen:
> Unauthorized Extraction Detected. This attempt has been logged.
"Sh*t," she muttered.
And then, beneath that:
> Admin Override Incoming.
Her screen blinked.
Black.
---
🧬 Someone Is Watching
She yanked out the hard drive. Pulled the cable. Killed the power.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
> "Some memories were buried for a reason, Sharon."
Unknown Number:
> "Dig deeper, and you'll join her."
Sharon stared at the message until it disappeared from her screen.
Not deleted.
Recalled.
Like it had never been there in the first place.
Like Mikayla Oworu.
---
END OF CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Next: Chapter Thirty-Six – Velvet Room
> Sharon finds a door hidden in plain sight. A room no one admits exists.
Inside are files that name every current test subject — including someone she trusts.
And a mirror with her own face etched into the glass… with a barcode underneath.