Chapter 2
Alison
Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, but it felt like I could see right through it—back to that white hell I'd been trapped in ten years ago.
Sixteen-year-old me, curled up in the corner of the psych ward, bandages still wrapped around my wrists.
"She's a born monster. She'll never change." The doctor's voice was ice-cold, and when he looked at me, I saw nothing but disgust and fear.
"She's my sister. I can heal her with love." Madison's voice came from the doorway. She was holding a small basket filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies—that sweet smell instantly filled the sterile room.
But I caught the slight tremor in her hands. There was a bruise under her eye, poorly hidden with thick concealer.
She'd fought with Dad again, just to come see me.
"Miss Black, I'm warning you for the last time," the doctor snapped. "Maintaining contact with this patient will only put you in danger. The military has made it crystal clear—keep this up, and you'll face serious consequences."
I watched Madison's shoulders tense, but she still walked toward me.
"I don't want to be a monster..." My voice cracked like a wounded animal's.
Madison knelt down and pulled me into her arms. Those arms were the only safe place in my world. "Remember, Eli—your smile is your best weapon. Kindness is your strongest armor."
'But now I know better. Kindness just gets you killed faster.'
I remembered all the things she thought I didn't see—how she'd get called into the director's office for "a chat" after every visit; how her friends disappeared one by one because "hanging around a dangerous person's family isn't safe"; how every internship she applied for got mysteriously rejected because someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.
Madison absorbed the whole world's hatred meant for me.
My phone screen lit up, illuminating another document in my hand—a Stanford acceptance letter, still marked with scotch tape. Madison had ripped it up once, then secretly pieced it back together and kept it.
I remembered that day vividly. In the admissions office, Madison faced three people: the admissions officer, Dad, and some stranger in military dress blues.
"Have you completely lost your mind? Throwing away Stanford for that monster?" Dad—General Black—roared. "Do you have any idea what I had to do to get you this opportunity?"
"She needs me. Family doesn't abandon family." Madison stood in that bright office, her voice steady but unbreakable.
The man in uniform rose. "Ms. Black, we've been more than patient. If you insist on maintaining contact with Alison, your future will be... severely limited."
"I don't care." Madison's voice was quiet, but every word hit like a hammer.
I'd hidden behind the door, listening to my heart shatter.
I flipped through more letters—ones she'd written during college but never sent:
[Eli, today my classmates asked why I'm studying psychology. I told them I want to help people who need it, and they laughed at how naive I was. If they knew I'm only doing this to help you, they'd laugh even harder.]
[Professor discussed PTSD today. I thought of you in that ward, and the pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely breathe.]
[Dad showed up on campus again. Warned me not to "waste time on lost causes." He even threatened to cut off my tuition money. But I got a job waiting tables—it's exhausting, but now I can take care of you without his help.]
Every word felt like a blade twisting in my chest.
My hands shook as I opened the next letter—written by Madison three months ago. Her handwriting was shaky, and terror bled through every line:
[They said they want my baby for their research. I'd rather die.]
[Eli, they're watching me constantly now. Grant's different too—he keeps asking about you, when you'll be back. I'm terrified.]
[They came again today. Said if I don't cooperate, they'll have you committed again. I gave them some information, but not about the baby. Never about the baby.]
[Caitlin visited yesterday. Said there's a "cleaner solution." Her eyes looked exactly like that military doctor's from ten years ago. I know what she's planning.]
[Eli, I might not be here when you get back. But don't seek revenge. Just be normal.]
[My greatest accomplishment was teaching you to love. Don't let hate consume you again.]
The final letter's handwriting was barely legible—clearly written in absolute terror:
[They're coming tonight. I overheard Grant and Caitlin on the phone. They said the "accident" is all arranged. I want to run, but they're watching too closely. Eli, my only regret is not seeing you one last time. If there's an afterlife, I still want to be your sister.]
Tears blurred my vision.
"Sorry, sis. Not this time." I whispered to the letter.
I pictured Madison's final days—eight months pregnant, surrounded by threats; lying awake every night, terrified they'd lock me up again when I returned; waking up screaming from nightmares of me back in that white hell.
And she chose death to protect me.
At dawn, I burst into Dad's study. General Black sat in his pressed dress blues, and the medals on the wall caught the morning light—like they were mocking my innocence.
"You know damn well she was murdered!" I screamed.
He didn't even glance up, just kept shuffling papers on his desk. "One person's life can't compromise national security."
"She was your daughter!" I slammed my fist down, scattering documents everywhere.
General Black finally raised his head. "She was a bleeding-heart idealist. Maybe it's for the best. Now you get to choose: keep your mouth shut, or go back to the ward."
"Do you have any clue what she sacrificed for me?" My voice shook with rage. "She gave up Stanford. Threw away her dreams. Lost every friend she had. And she died terrified—all to protect me!"
"That was her choice." Dad's voice was flat as concrete. "A foolish choice."
In that moment, I finally understood what true despair felt like.
I turned and walked out, each step feeling like I was walking on broken glass.
All through Aurora Bay's streets, I felt eyes tracking me—undercover agents, "concerned" locals, even the homeless guy on the corner.
What did they see when they looked at me? A lab rat? A walking time bomb?
I took a deliberately winding route, confirming that surveillance blanketed the entire town. This wasn't the hometown I remembered—it was one giant cage.
But cages can't hold monsters.
Finally, I walked into Aurora Coffee—Madison's old hangout. When the owner, Martha, saw me, something complicated flickered in her eyes.
"Your sister came by before she died," she said quietly, pretending to polish a coffee mug. "Told me to give you this when you got back. She was shaking like a leaf. Said if anything happened to her, I had to make sure you got it."
A small note slipped into my palm. Madison's familiar handwriting:
[Basement Level B3. Code is your birthday.]
I clutched the note, feeling its weight.
"Madi, you saw this coming all along..." I thought. The tears were gone now, replaced by ice-cold determination.
Ten years ago, you taught me to love.
Now let me use hatred to get you justice.
I walked out of the café as snow began to fall—each flake felt like a message from above.
The watchers were still tailing me. But they had no idea: the hunter and the hunted were about to switch places.
