Sleep didn't come easy.
Aaron tossed and turned all night, trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape. He was running—through a twisting, metallic maze that seemed to stretch on forever, walls shifting and pulsing like a living thing. The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting long, distorted shadows in every direction.
Something was chasing him. He couldn't see it, not fully—but he felt it. Every turn he took, every corner he sprinted around, it was there, just behind him. The only thing he could make out through the fog of fear was a pair of glowing blue eyes. Cold. Unblinking. Inhuman.
They pierced through the dark like beacons, locking onto him. Getting closer. Closer.
Then—
BEEP BEEP BEEP
His alarm blared, jolting him upright in bed. He was drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribcage like it wanted out. For a moment, he just sat there, catching his breath, still half expecting those glowing eyes to be standing at the foot of his bed.
God... it was just a dream. Just a dream.
But it didn't feel like one.
He scrambled out of bed and darted into the bathroom, flicking the light on. The harsh white glow made him squint. He gripped the sides of the sink, leaned forward, and looked into the mirror.
He scanned his face.
Still human. Still himself.
No fangs. No gills. No fur. No glowing eyes.
A wave of relief washed over him—but it was thin and fleeting, barely covering the anxiety bubbling underneath. His stomach turned, a low, sour twist that made him grimace.
It's just nerves, he told himself. Nothing's happened. It's fine. You're fine.
Still, he couldn't shake the gnawing dread clawing at the edge of his thoughts. He pushed it down and moved through his morning routine mechanically—brushing his teeth, washing his face, fixing his hair. Everything felt distant, like he was watching himself from behind glass.
He dressed quickly, grabbing his usual pants and that same favorite shirt—the one with the anthropomorphic cat staring into the stars. Somehow, it made him feel grounded.
Heading downstairs, he found his mom already in the kitchen.
Catherine looked up from her tea and frowned slightly. "You're looking a bit pale, honey. Are you feeling alright?"
Aaron froze. Was it that obvious?
He forced a chuckle, waving it off. "I'm fine, really. Probably just tired from yesterday."
She didn't look convinced, but she smiled anyway and handed him his lunch. "If you say so. Eat something during break, okay?"
"I will. Thanks, Mom."
Dad had already left for the lab, which Aaron was thankful for. He didn't think he could keep it together under both their gazes. Slipping on his shoes, he mumbled a quick goodbye and left for school, clutching his bag a little too tightly.
Meanwhile, at XenoGene Labs, David was bent over his workstation, reviewing a batch of new results. He barely noticed when a colleague stepped into the lab.
"Hey David," the man said, holding a clipboard. "Quick question—when we made the pill batch yesterday, we logged 150, right?"
David nodded distractedly. "Yeah, why?"
"Well... when we did the inventory check this morning, we only counted 149 in the container."
That made David pause.
"Huh. Probably just a miscount during prep. Those machines jam all the time."
"Yeah, maybe. Just figured I should mention it."
David waved him off and turned back to his samples—but his thoughts had already started to spiral. It was probably nothing. A miscount. An accident.
But still...
What if it wasn't?
What if something had happened while Aaron was there?
Back at school, Aaron sat hunched at his desk, the numbers on the whiteboard blurring together. Math was usually easy for him—fun, even—but right now, he could barely focus. His stomach cramped sharply, and a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
The pain hit suddenly and violently.
His hand shot up. "Miss, can I—Can I go to the bathroom?"
The teacher barely finished nodding before he was out of his seat and bolting down the hall. He burst into the bathroom, his vision swimming, and barely made it into a stall before he collapsed to his knees and threw up.
His throat burned. His whole body trembled. He clutched the cold, grimy porcelain, trying to steady his breathing.
It wasn't just nerves. This was something else.
Barely able to stand, he made his way to the nurse's office. The nurse, a kind older woman named Miss Elara, took one look at him and frowned deeply.
"You look awful, sweetheart. Come, lie down."
Aaron explained the symptoms as best he could, though he left out the real reason he suspected he was feeling this way. She didn't press. Just called his mother.
At the lab, David's anxiety had started to harden into fear.
The missing pill. Aaron's strange expression the night before. His sudden fatigue.
It was too many coincidences.
He pulled up the internal security footage from yesterday. Fast-forwarded past the early morning setup, past the technician briefings.
Then he saw it: himself and Aaron walking through the door.
His finger hovered over the playback controls as he focused on the image. There was Aaron, standing by the bench near the entrance. He reached out. Took something. Unwrapped it. Popped it into his mouth.
David's stomach dropped.
No.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it without taking his eyes off the screen.
"Hello?"
"David?" It was Catherine. "Something's wrong. I had to pick Aaron up from school—he's really sick."
Silence.
He watched the screen as his son swallowed the pill.
David didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
Everything around him blurred.