-Chapter 2-

The darkness was all-encompassing.

I wasn't sure how and when I came here. I couldn't remember what happened before this or what will happen afterwards. But somehow that was alright.

"Hello?" I said. My voice echoed emptily through the void. Hello?

"Is anyone there?"

Is anyone there?

Even after raising my hands in front of my face, inches away from my eyes, I couldn't see my fingers. I flexed them to make sure they still existed. I waited for fear and panic to set in, but it didn't come.

Stretching my arms out, I took a step forward cautiously, trying to feel if there was some sort of edge that I might fall over. There wasn't.

After taking another few steps ahead, I found a small pinpoint of light in the distance, so tiny I thought I might've imagined it. But as it grew larger with each passing second, I realized that it was actually there, and it was coming toward me.

Up close, it looked unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was a gigantic nebula of yellow light, finer than mist and dust. Its source seemed to come from within itself. The light pulsed, as if it were sentient.

I began reaching a finger toward the light, but it shrank back sharply at the gesture. My arm dropped to my side.

The light collapsed in on itself, becoming brighter as it condensed. The yellow hue deepened into gold. I had to squint and lift a hand to shield my eyes against its increasing intensity. When I adjusted and dropped my arm, I jolted in surprise. The light had formed a humanoid shape, crude features rising out of what was supposed to be the face. I felt more than saw that it was imitating … me. It even had a small line of darkness tracing its right cheek, just like my scar.

"Hey," I said. "Who are you?"

"I am that which was ripped away and passed to you." The humanoid's mouth opened and closed clumsily, not being able to form the shape of all the vowels and consonants correctly.

"What?"

"I am that which, after having been given to you, has become part of you," it continued. "As a drop of water is merged into a cup. Although, I am more significant than a drop of water."

I stared. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"To put it more simply," the humanoid said, "I am you."

"That still makes zero sense," I said. "But is that why you're trying to copy what I look like?" Unable to help myself, I raised my hand toward it. To my surprise again, the humanoid mirrored my gesture, almost but not quite touching my fingertips.

"I did not want to come here." The humanoid ignored my question. It sounded nearly accusatory.

"I mean," I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "I don't know why you're here. Actually, I have no idea why I'm here. Maybe you could just …" I waved my hand at it. "You know, leave? If you can?"

The humanoid shook its head, its movements jerky. "It's too late for that."

Then it set its eyes on my own. "You've spent too long here already, Walker. You must go."

"That's not my name."

Its eyes flamed, burning with an eerie sort of inhuman conscience. "It is what it is." It turned its back on me. "Go. I will be there when you come to it. I will always be there, now." It walked away.

"Wait—"

Whatever dark surface I was standing upon gave way to air. The sudden sense of weightlessness stole my breath, but before I could scream, I was slammed back onto a solid surface.

Heaviness, everywhere. As if someone emptied me out and filled me with wet cement and let it settle. My head was pounding and feverish, filled with the same heavy weight that clogged my thoughts.

Even through my eyelids, I could sense the brightness around me. Groaning, I turned my head to the side, wanting to escape the light. It did not help. My temples throbbed harder.

Opening my eyes felt like trying to rip apart two pieces of clothing that were stitched together. The world in front of me was blurry, and I had to blink several times to make it come into focus. I could see the edge of a pillow. White walls.

Closing my eyes again, I sighed. Now that I was more awake, the heaviness was beginning to become sharper, turning to aches. It wasn't too disturbing, but it was uncomfortable. I wanted to slip back into the darkness …

The strong scent of bleach and cleaning solutions filled my nose. It was a familiar smell. Not unpleasant, but there was a distinct uneasiness that came with it that told me I didn't like whatever was making it.

The hospital.

I was in the hospital.

My eyes flew open. The alley, the person with the gun—Moores—and the man who tried to kill me, the woman with red hair, and the explosion—

I tried to sit up and failed, yanking the IV tube in my arm painfully. The muscles in my arms and back felt stiff, as if I hadn't used them for months, but it didn't matter because I had to run, get out—!

No no no no. This was the hospital. I pushed against the fog in my mind. The woman out-fought those two men, didn't she? Maybe she brought me here. Or she had someone else bring me here, people who worked for her. Yes, that made more sense.

Which meant I was safe. I wasn't dead.

A strange sense of wanting to cry washed through me, which didn't make sense because I also wanted to laugh. And scream. But I didn't have the energy for any of those things, so I relaxed back into the bed, my eyes stinging.

I looked around me. There was an empty chair to my right. Was that where Nick and Julia sat when they visited me? The thought of the two of them sent a pang of guilt. It made me want to cry again, so I pushed the feeling away.

Suddenly, there was an odd machinery noise, and I immediately looked toward the source of the sound. My mouth dropped open. The gigantic metallic doors on the walls opposite of me was sliding apart, what looked like complex mechanisms unlocking and unfurling around each other. What kind of hospital recovery room had fancy tech like this?

I also realized the room had no windows. Which is also odd because again, what kind of hospital recovery room had no windows? That was the last thing I had time to think before the people walked in.

Three men and a woman, all in black suits and decidedly un-doctor-like. Each had a different build and facial features, but they all had the same attitude surrounding them. Tense and alert. And every one carried a black pistol in their hands.

My mouth went dry, my heart beginning to pound painfully hard against my ribcage. Digging my fingers into the sheets, I stared at them, tears beginning to prick at my eyes again. I thought I was safe. Damn. Damn, this wasn't fair. This wasn't ever going to end.

I waited for them to turn to me and train their guns on my head. But to my utter confusion, they were still glancing around the room, jerking their guns left and right as if they weren't sure where to aim them. Their eyes passed right over me without even blinking.

"Shit," the man at the end of the group said. "She's really gone."

"Sweep the area," the blond woman leading them said.

"For what?" the same man said. "There's nothing in here, nothing to hid in. Unless it's under the bed. I guess we could check that out."

The woman shot a glare at him, her mouth twisted in a deep scowl. "Well, what the hell do you think we should do? There's no way she could've gotten out! That door is one of the most secure in the United States, probably. All I know is that one second she was lying on that goddamn cot in the corner, on camera, and the next she wasn't, and if she's gone we're all screwed. So shut up and do what I say."

I stared at them, fascinated. I wanted to sit up, but I didn't dare move. Was this some kind of joke? Some weird hospital tradition for patients who just woke up?

But the frustration on the woman's face was very real. The gun looked very real.

The four people split and each went to a different corner of the room. The woman began walking toward me, and all I could do was watch. A sense of unreality washed over me. It felt like it was somebody else lying on the bed. I was only seeing through that somebody's eyes as the woman was three steps—two steps—one step—

She actually did check under the bed, where there was—surprise!—nothing. When she straightened, I tried to catch her eyes, looking for any indication or acknowledgement that I was in front of her. There was none. Her eyes were focused and aware, but not focused on me.

She held out a hand toward my body. I didn't dare breathe, didn't dare move, both afraid and curious at what was going to happen next.

Her hand touched my stomach, and I flinched at the contact. Jerking back, the woman looked truly afraid for a second, her face drawn and pale. She whipped out her pistol, aiming it at the bed. Aiming it at me.

I shot up, completely ignoring the raw pain that flared to life with the movement, ripping the IV tube out of my arm and knocking the woman's gun aside. There was a loud bang as she pulled the trigger, eyes bugging out, and the other men in the room looked our direction in alarm.

The sound jarred me into stumbling out of the bed. My eyes were fixed on the doors, which were still open. People were beginning to shout, but I didn't care. Their words were muddled in my ears. All I could see were the doors.

I didn't manage to take two steps before my stupid legs gave out and I lost balance, teetering sideways. I crashed into the woman, and we landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Pushing at the woman, I tried to release myself and get back up.

But she was too strong.

She looked almost as terrified as I felt, but she still managed to pin me to the ground, bearing her entire weight down on my midriff. Screaming as loud as I could, the noise harsh and horrible even to my own ears, I thrashed under her weight. It was no use.

"What's going on here?"

The voice was sharp enough to cut through my shrieking and struggling. I panted, tears streaming down my face.

"Diaz?" the same female voice said. "What are you holding down?"

"We were watching the cell on camera, ma'am," the woman pinning me said. "We took our eyes off the monitor for one second, I swear, and the girl disappeared. None of the cameras showed anything, from any angle. I alerted Jarvis, and my team and I came down here to investigate."

She swallowed, visibly unnerved. "There was nothing in here. Nothing we could see. Then I went to the bed, and I was going to smooth it down to check for any abnormalities. The bed looked empty, but I touched something. It—it attacked me, and—" She nodded at my direction.

"I don't know what's going on." The words slipped out, cracked and hoarse. The woman's eyes snapped back to me, wide. They were still wavering, filled with uncertainty.

I coughed and tried to clear my throat.

"I don't know what's g-going on," I repeated. My voice was interrupted by a small sob at the end. I told myself to shut up, or at least sound less pathetic, but I couldn't seem to stop. "I'm sorry. I thought this was t-the h-hospital."

The world was silent.

The female voice spoke again. "This is Avelina speaking? You are Avelina Ashford?"

God, I hated that first name but I was so relieved at being recognized I didn't care. "Yeah. I am."

There was another pause. "Alright. Diaz, you can get off her now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The weight eased off, and I was able to breathe again. The moment I was free, another sob escaped from my throat. I eased into a sitting position and curled in around myself, burying my face in my arms. I couldn't take any more of this. I just couldn't.

"Avelina—"

"No. It's supposed to be Ava."

"Ava," the female voice said, surprisingly gentle. "I know this is hard for you right now. But I need to you cooperate with me so we can figure this out."

After a few quiet moments and some deep breaths, I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of the white shirt I was wearing. "Okay," I said, and looked up.

It was the woman with the red hair, from that night when the explosion happened. She was in a white blouse and dark suit pants, with a small bag slung over her shoulder.

"It's you," I said, tentatively feeling that this was a good thing.

"It's me," the woman agreed. "Ava, I can't see you in front of me. But you're there, aren't you?"

"I am."

She held out her hand in my direction. "Can you touch my hand? To let me make sure you're there?"

I pushed myself off the ground slowly, and took her hand. It was warm and solid, callused.

"I see," she said. What irony. It was clear that she didn't see me, whatever was going on.

The woman reached into her bag, took something out, and held it out to me. A small pocket mirror. "I want you to take a look."

I stared at the object, hesitating. Somehow, I wasn't sure if I wanted to. I know whatever it was I wouldn't be able to avoid it forever, but I wanted to avoid it for as long as I could.

Except I'd run out of time. The woman's hands were still outstretched.

I took the mirror and held it to my face.

There was nothing there.

What.

The.

Hell.

Turning the mirror this way and that, I continued to look, but there was still nothing. Or to be more accurate, there was something. It reflected the walls behind me. It caught the light from the fixtures on the ceiling.

But no me. Nothing to show that I was in front of it.

"I don't—It doesn't show me—"

"You are pointing it at yourself, aren't you?" Diaz asked.

I stared at her.

"Pointing it at myself?" I said, my voice rising. My fingers tightened on the mirror, so much I thought it might crack. "Yes, I'm pointing it at myself. I'm pointing it at myself and there's fucking nothing there. And you just come along, asking me if I'm aiming the mirror at myself. Well, that's what a mirror is for, isn't it? What am I supposed to be pointing it at? The ceiling? You?" I'd raised my arm in the middle of my arm, ready to bring it down and smash the mirror into pieces. Without warning, a hand clamped around my wrist, and I started. It was the woman, who slipped to my side without me noticing.

"I thought you couldn't see me," I said.

"I could tell where your hand is from where the mirror is in the air," she said. "Don't panic. It's okay. I looked into it too, I know you weren't lying."

"I—" I lowered my arm and gave the thing back to her. "Sorry," I muttered, at both her and Diaz.

I looked down on my arm. It was paler and thinner than what I remembered, but it was there. Solid. I ran a hand over it. It was normal as far as I could tell. I touched my face, my hair. All there. All seemed normal. Other people are able to touch me, too, and they could hear my voice.

But nobody could see me. The mirror didn't reflect me.

"What's happened to me?" I breathed.

The red-haired woman did not betray anything on her face. But for one second, I thought I saw something flash in her eyes. Something like pity. "You've been enhanced."

A/N: And that was chapter 2! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it :)

Quick question: Did any of you find the dialogue toward the end confusing (like with who was saying what)? I'm don't really about that part because of course I'm familiar with what's going on in the story. But I'm not sure how it feels to readers?

Anyway, thanks for reading. Until next time!