The first thing Eric noticed was the smell.
Burnt plastic.
It didn't belong in the stairwell.
He froze halfway down the steps, one hand on the cold metal railing. The light above flickered weakly, buzzing like an insect trapped in glass. The smell grew stronger the lower he went, mixed with something else ozone, sharp and unpleasant, the kind that made the back of his throat tighten.
" Great " he muttered.
The building was old. Electrical problems weren't new. Still, his chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with faulty wiring.
He continued down slowly.
On the second floor, Mrs. Klein's door was open.
That alone was strange.
She never left it open. Ever.
Eric hesitated, then knocked lightly. " Mrs Klein ??? "
No answer.
The smell was strongest here.
He stepped closer and peered inside.
The apartment was dim, curtains half-drawn. A lamp lay shattered on the floor, glass scattered like ice. The television was on, static filling the room with white noise. And near the kitchen doorway, Mrs. Klein was sitting on the floor, her back against the counter, one hand pressed to her chest.
Eric's heart dropped.
" Hey hey, are you okay? "
She looked up slowly, eyes unfocused. Her breathing was shallow, uneven.
"My…. chest, " she whispered.
Eric moved without thinking. He knelt beside her, his mind racing. Heart attack? Panic attack? He wasn't a doctor. He wasn't anything.
"I'm calling an ambulance," he said, fumbling for his phone.
His fingers wouldn't stop shaking.
No signal.
Of course.
The building always had dead zones.
"Okay, okay," he said quickly, more to himself than to her. " Just stay with me, alright? "
Mrs. Klein's grip tightened painfully around his wrist.
" Eric " she said, somehow managing to say his name clearly. " It hurts "
The pressure in his chest surged.
Not fear. Not panic.
Something else.
It felt like a switch being flipped inside him too fast, too hard. His vision blurred at the edges, colors bleeding into one another. The static from the television grew louder, sharper, drilling into his skull.
" Please " she whispered.
Eric swallowed.
He didn't think.
He didn't plan.
He just wanted it to stop.
The pressure exploded.
The lights went out.
Every bulb in the apartment burst at once, plunging the room into darkness. The television died mid-static. The air crackled, heavy and electric, pressing down on his ears until they rang.
Mrs Klein screamed.
Eric recoiled, gasping, his hands burning as if he'd pressed them against a hot surface. For a split second, something glowed between his palms faint, unstable, like heat rippling through air.
Then it vanished.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Emergency lights flickered on in the hallway outside, bathing the apartment in dull red. Eric stared at his hands, his breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.
" What did I do???? " he whispered.
Mrs. Klein was breathing harder now, panicked, but conscious. Her grip loosened.
"Lights " she said weakly. "They… exploded."
Eric forced himself to move.
" I I'm going to get help "" he said, scrambling to his feet. " Stay here. Don't move "
He didn't wait for a response.
He ran.
Down the remaining stairs, out the front door, into the cold evening air. His legs felt wrong, heavy and light at the same time. His thoughts tumbled over each other, refusing to form anything useful.
It was an accident.
It had to be.
Outside, people had gathered, murmuring, pointing at the building. Smoke curled faintly from a broken window on the second floor.
Someone was already calling emergency services.
Eric slowed, blending into the small crowd, his heart hammering so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it.
Sirens approached in the distance.
Good.
That was good.
But the pressure inside him didn't fade.
It coiled tighter.
His hands trembled violently now. He shoved them into his pockets, clenching his fists until his nails bit into his skin.
" I didn't mean to " he whispered. "I didn't."
A memory surfaced white lights, screaming, his own voice begging someone to stop.
His head throbbed.
" Subject shows first uncontrolled discharge " a voice echoed in his mind.
Not a memory.
Not exactly.
Eric staggered back, nearly colliding with someone.
"Watch it," the man snapped.
" Sorry " Eric muttered automatically.
The man paused, frowning at him for a moment too long. His eyes flicked briefly to Eric's hands, then to the building.
Something unreadable passed across his face.
Then he walked away.
The ambulance arrived moments later. Paramedics rushed inside. Firefighters followed.
Eric stood there, unmoving, until the cold finally sank into his bones.
He left before anyone thought to stop him.
That night, he locked himself in his room and turned off every light.
He sat on the floor, back against the bed, knees pulled to his chest. His breathing was shallow, controlled with effort. Any deeper, and he felt like something inside him would surge again.
"I almost killed her " he whispered.
The words felt heavy. Real.
He pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut.
He didn't want this.
He never asked for it.
The pressure stirred in response, restless.
A sharp knock hit the door.
Eric flinched so hard his shoulder struck the bed frame.
" Eric? " his father's voice called. " Are you home ? "
His pulse spiked.
"Yeah," Eric said quickly, forcing his voice steady. "I'm fine."
A pause.
"You sure? There was an incident in the building."
"I know. I saw the ambulances."
Another pause, longer this time.
" Alright " his father said eventually. " Dinner's on the stove. "
Footsteps retreated.
Eric exhaled slowly.
Too close.
He stayed on the floor long after the apartment fell quiet.
Hours later, when exhaustion finally dragged him into a restless half sleep, the dreams returned.
But this time, they were different.
No empty void.
No faceless voices.
He stood in a narrow room, walls lined with glass. Behind each pane, people watched men and women in dark uniforms, faces impassive. Screens hovered in the air, data scrolling too fast to read.
A symbol glowed faintly on the floor beneath his feet.
Incomplete.
Fractured.
"Control failure confirmed " someone said calmly.
"He's destabilizing faster than projected," another replied.
Eric turned in a slow circle.
"Stop talking like I'm not here," he said, his voice shaking with anger he didn't recognize.
A man stepped forward, older, eyes sharp.
"You were never meant to awaken alone," he said. "But mistakes happen."
The room began to crack.
Glass shattered outward, frozen mid-air.
Eric woke up screaming.
He sat bolt upright, gasping, his hands glowing faintly in the dark.
Real.
It was real.
He forced himself to breathe, to focus, to push whatever it was back down.
After several long minutes, the light faded.
But the certainty remained.
Someone was watching.
And now, they knew he was dangerous.
Across the city, in a secure room buried deep beneath concrete and steel, a screen replayed footage from a stairwell camera. The moment the lights burst. The spike in readings. The anomaly.
The same man from Eric's dream stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Activate Phase Two," he said quietly.
A red dot appeared on a digital map.
Eric's location.
"Containment if possible," the man added. " Termination only if necessary. "
Because witnesses were one thing.
Uncontrolled variables were another.