Riley
I didn't sleep that night.
Not because I wasn't tired. I was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that lives in your bones. That makes your eyelids heavy and your thoughts slow.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw them.
The bodies. The fire. The way the Stalkers moved through the camp like shadows made of teeth.
I saw Allen's face. The way he looked at me. Not scared. Not angry. Something else. Something that said I know what you are.
I didn't know what I was anymore.
---
Sasha was asleep a few feet away. Her back against a tree. Her bow in her lap. She'd stopped asking if I was okay. Stopped trying to talk about what happened.
Maybe she was scared of me now. Like the others.
Maybe she should be.
I looked at my hands.
They were shaking. Not from cold. From something else. Something inside. Something that felt like hunger.
My fingers looked different. Longer. Thinner. The nails were... wrong. Darker at the edges. Sharper than they should be.
I stared at them. Turned my hands over. Looked at my palms. The scars from the experiments were fading. New skin underneath. Pale. Smooth.
Wrong.
Everything was wrong.
---
You're changing.
The thought came from nowhere. Or from somewhere deep. Somewhere I didn't want to look.
The Project did this. Made you faster. Stronger. Made you heal.
But it didn't stop.
It's still happening.
I touched my face. My cheeks. My jaw. Everything felt the same. But how long would that last? How long until I looked in the water and didn't recognize myself?
What are you becoming?
I didn't have an answer.
---
The dream came anyway.
I didn't close my eyes. But it came. Pulled me under like a wave.
I was standing in the middle of the camp. The fire was burning. The bodies were everywhere. But they weren't dead anymore. They were moving. Sitting up. Looking at me.
Mira was there. Her throat was still cut. Blood dripping down her neck. Her mouth was moving.
Monster.
Sam was there. The arrow still in his face. His hands reaching for me.
Freak.
The boy with the axe. The girl from the group home. The foster mother. The foster father.
They circled me. Whispering. Pointing. Their eyes were black. Like the Stalkers.
Empty.
Broken.
Wrong.
You were always wrong.
I woke up gasping. My hands were claws. My nails had dug into my palms. Blood dripped down my wrists.
Sasha was awake. Watching me. Her face was pale.
"You were screaming," she said.
"No, I wasn't."
"You were. For ten minutes. I couldn't wake you up."
I looked at my hands. At the blood. At the nail marks.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine." She stood up. Walked over. Crouched in front of me. "Look at me."
I looked at her.
"You're not fine," she said again. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine. You just have to be honest."
"I don't know how to be honest."
"Then start with me."
I stared at her. At her scar. At her eyes. At the way she looked at me like I wasn't a monster.
"I'm changing," I said. "My body. My mind. Everything. I'm not... I'm not staying the same."
"What's changing?"
I held up my hands. Showed her my nails. The darkness at the edges. The sharpness.
"These. They're different. Wrong."
She looked at them. Didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.
"Anything else?"
"My teeth. I think. They feel... sharper."
"Let me see."
I opened my mouth. She leaned in. Looked.
"Your canines are longer," she said. "Not like... vampire long. But longer than before."
She sat back. Her face was calm. But her hands were shaking.
"The experiments," she said. "They're still working. Still changing you."
"I know."
"Do you know what you're becoming?"
I looked at the trees. At the dark spaces between. At the Stalkers that were probably out there. Watching. Waiting.
"I have an idea," I said. "And I don't like it."
---
Morning came slow.
The sun was gray. Hidden behind clouds. The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
I stood at the edge of the camp. My bow was in my hand. My arrows were at my hip. Thirteen still. I hadn't shot a single one.
The Stalkers didn't need arrows.
I looked at my hand. At my nails. At the way the light caught the dark edges.
"Riley."
Sasha. Behind me.
"We need to talk about what happened."
"What's there to talk about?"
"You sent Stalkers to kill people. You smiled while they did it. You let Allen go because you wanted him to suffer."
"Yes."
"That's not normal."
I turned. Looked at her.
"Nothing about me is normal. It never was. Even before the Project. Even before the virus. I was always wrong. Always broken. The Project just... finished what started."
"That's not true."
"It is."
I walked toward her. Stopped inches from her face.
"The others were right to leave. I am a monster. I am empty. I don't feel things the way you do. I don't care about people the way you do. I killed those kids and I felt nothing. I watched the Stalkers tear them apart and I felt nothing."
My voice cracked. Just a little.
"But I want to feel something. I want to care. I want to be human. And I can't. And it's killing me."
---
Sasha didn't say anything.
She just stepped forward. Wrapped her arms around me. Held me.
I didn't hug her back. I didn't know how. My arms stayed at my sides. My hands hung limp.
But I didn't pull away.
"You're not a monster," she whispered. "Monsters don't want to be human."
"Maybe I'm a different kind of monster."
"Maybe. But you're my monster. And I'm not leaving."
I closed my eyes. Let myself feel the warmth of her arms. The pressure of her body against mine.
For a second, something flickered inside me. Something warm. Something that felt like it might be sadness. Or gratitude. Or something else I didn't have a name for.
Then it was gone. And I was cold again.
But I remembered it. The feeling. The flicker.
Maybe that was enough. For now.
---
The Stalkers came back at noon.
Not the ones from the camp. New ones. Three of them. Standing at the edge of the trees. Watching.
Their eyes were black. Their mouths were open. Their teeth were sharp.
They looked at me. I looked at them.
"What do they want?" Sasha asked.
"I don't know."
But I did know. I could feel it. The same connection from before. The same pull.
They wanted me to lead them.
"No," I said.
The Stalkers tilted their heads.
"I said no. I'm not doing that again. I'm not sending you to kill people."
The Stalkers didn't move. Didn't leave. Just stood there. Watching. Waiting.
"They're not going to listen," Sasha said.
"They will."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm not Allen. I'm not going to use them like weapons."
I walked toward the Stalkers. Stopped in front of the closest one. It was taller than me. Its skin was gray. Its veins were dark under the surface.
"Go," I said. "Leave. Don't come back."
The Stalker stared at me. Its black eyes reflected my face.
Then it turned. Walked into the trees. The others followed.
Sasha let out a breath.
"They actually listened."
"For now."
I looked at my hands. At my nails. At the darkness spreading.
"But they'll be back. They always come back."
---
That night, I sat by the fire and watched my hands.
The nails had changed again. Darker. Sharper. The skin around them was pale. Almost gray.
I touched my teeth with my tongue. The canines were longer. I could feel the points.
What are you becoming?
I didn't know. But I was scared to find out.
Sasha was asleep. Her breathing was slow. Even. Her hand was resting on her bow.
I looked at her. At the scar on her jaw. At the way her face relaxed when she dreamed.
She was the only one who stayed. The only one who looked at me and didn't see a monster.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She didn't hear me.
But I meant it.