Chapter Ten: Isolation

Chapter Ten: Isolation

The hum of the chamber still resonated in my ears as we stepped out of the main meeting room. The Overseer’s piercing words and Dr. Egan’s clinical tone churned in my mind like an endless echo. Each step felt heavier than the last as Lena guided me back toward the bustling walkways. The vibrant world around us, once awe-inspiring, now felt like a blur—a dream I wasn’t part of. Every smile, every laugh, every purposeful movement seemed distant, as though I were watching it all through a screen.

“We need to talk,” Lena said, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

I didn’t answer right away, my thoughts too tangled to respond. My mind kept circling back to Zack—his life, his choice.

“Come on,” she said, tugging lightly on my arm. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

She led me down a side corridor, away from the crowds and noise. The walls here were lined with panels displaying maps and readouts, their faint glow barely illuminating Lena’s face. The air felt colder here, the faint hum of machinery filling the silence between us. She stopped abruptly, turning to face me.

“You deserve to know the truth,” she began. “About Zack. About why you’re here. About everything.”

I stared at her, unsure if I even wanted to hear it. The pieces were already forming in my mind, and I didn’t like the shape they were taking.

“Zack gave himself up for this project,” she said. “He volunteered because he believed in what it could do—what you could do.”

The words hit me like a blow, but I forced myself to listen. I focused on her voice, grounding myself as the rest of the world blurred into the background.

“He… he wasn’t forced?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lena shook her head. “No. Zack knew the risks. He… he wanted to make a difference. He’d been stuck at the same age for over a hundred years, just like the rest of us. But he believed you could be the solution to everything the drug broke.”

I looked away, my chest tightening. Zack’s sacrifice, his choice, was supposed to make me feel purposeful. Instead, it left me hollow. How could someone give up so much and leave it to someone like me?

“And you?” I asked, glancing back at her. “What do you believe?”

Lena hesitated. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed uncertain. “I believe in you,” she said softly. “And I believe in what Zack gave us. But I know this is a lot. I just… I want you to understand that you’re not alone.”

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they didn’t. If anything, they made the weight on my shoulders even heavier. The idea that everyone around me believed in something I couldn’t even comprehend felt unbearable.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “I can’t do this,” I said, my voice breaking. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Lena’s expression faltered. Her hand reached out, but she stopped herself. “You don’t have to figure it all out now,” she said, her voice steady but kind. “Just take it one step at a time.”

I shook my head again, the emotions building to a breaking point. “I need time,” I said, stepping further back. “I just… I need to be alone.”

Lena didn’t follow as I turned and walked away. The quiet hum of the corridor felt deafening, and the warmth of the underground city felt suffocating. I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts spiraling. Every turn of the corridors blurred into the next. The glowing panels, the occasional nod from passersby—it all faded into the background.

Zack. His sacrifice. The corporation. The endless lives frozen in time. It was all too much, too big, too heavy for someone who didn’t even know who they really were.

I found myself in a small alcove tucked away from the main paths. The space was dimly lit, the walls bare and cold. I leaned against the wall, my breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. My hands trembled as I tried to make sense of everything.

Zack believed in me. Lena believed in me. But I didn’t believe in myself. I wasn’t a savior, or a solution, or any of the things they thought I was. I was just… me. And I didn’t even know what that meant.

I slid down the wall, my knees pulling to my chest. For the first time since waking up in this body, I let myself cry. Not just for Zack, but for everything I had lost—everything I had never even known I had.

The sound of my sobs echoed faintly in the alcove, swallowed up by the unyielding quiet of the underground. It felt like I was sinking into the weight of it all, like the very air around me was pressing down. My tears blurred my vision, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Time passed—I couldn’t say how long. Eventually, the tears stopped, leaving only the ache in my chest and the heaviness in my limbs. The faint hum of machinery in the distance filled the silence. For now, it was the only sound that kept me company.

I didn’t move. I didn’t want to. The world outside could wait, just for a little while.