Patient B-2

Chapter One: Avalyn

Dirt-clouded vision and earth-filled lungs. Every breath devoid of air. Every bone crushed by the weight of the world. My fingers fought to free me, and when I made it to the top, it wasn't relief I felt. A picture of my best friend, a book from my lover, and a bottle of juice that soon met the bottom of my stomach. None of it was satisfying.

"Ms. Adair?"

I didn't shed tears- couldn't, even if I wanted to. A few weeds left in disarray, strewn about the patch of earth from which I had desperately crawled. Was this all I deserved? I hadn't expected much, but I had hoped for a proper burial, somewhere dignified, not in this desolate expanse that resembled the middle of nowhere. I had believed I meant more.

"Have I lost you again?"

My bones seemed to mend themselves, the cracks and twists gradually realigning as if guided by an unseen force. With each steady breath I took, strength returned to my limbs. When I found myself standing on both feet once more, a determination seized me. I reached for the first shovel within reach and set to work. Despite my state of delirium, I did my best, smoothing over the earth, concealing any evidence of my resurrection, as if I hadn't just clawed my way back from the dead.

"Ms. Adair, are you with me?"

I picked up the photograph, tracing the contours of Sophie's bright smile, a smile that once effortlessly drew one from me. But now, I doubted I'd ever smile like that again. I tucked the photograph into my brassiere, feeling the weight of my mother's note untouched against my chest. With the empty bottle tucked under my arm, I made my way towards the only beacon of light in the distance. As the light grew brighter, I dropped the shovel, its task completed. And when I found myself standing in front of my house, only then did a wave of relief wash over me.

"Avalyn, I have other patients to see. If you won't talk, I can't help you."

Relief that no one knew I was alive. Finally, I could run without the worry of being caught.

"I don't want to talk about that day," I say softly, meeting the eyes of the man who sits across from me.

His office exudes an air of opulence, a stark contrast to his mother's more modest abode. Mrs. Beth, or Beth King, as I knew her true name to be, had a son, Codee King, who bears a striking resemblance to her. Despite being much younger, probably only a decade older than myself, his eyes hold the same gentle crinkles in the corners, reminiscent of his mother's. Their smiles mirror each other perfectly, and they even share the same mannerisms-legs crossed, with a single finger tapping against their notebooks.

Unlike his mother, Dr. King, her son, exudes an irritating demeanor. He lacks her softness, as most men do, and instead carries himself with an air of superiority. Yet, despite his vexing demeanor, he has proven to be unexpectedly helpful. He's easy to compel, allowing me to express myself without restraint. However, both of us have come to realize that I don't particularly enjoy speaking freely in his presence.

He emits a heavy sigh, his arm raising to check the time on his expensive gold watch. "We've been sitting here for half an hour," he remarks, his tone tinged with impatience.

"And we'll sit here for another if I see fit," I retort sharply, my words laced with defiance.

"Okay, okay," he groans, rubbing at his eyes in resignation. "We can revisit that day another time. How about you tell me more about Cierien and Wrath?"

Ignoring his suggestion, I steer the conversation in a different direction. "What do you know about the Fawn Response?" I inquire, keen to delve into a topic of my own choosing.