Metamorphosis || Karl Heisenberg

Chapter 6

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Zero sat right up, instantly awake. Her breathing was coming out in short heaves, and she was lightly covered by a layer of sweat. Hands were clutching the soft fabric of a blanket until her knuckles were white. She brought her knees to her chest, holding them with witch trembling arms, and rested her head. What she just experienced had rattled her. She let her eyes flit around as she tried to regain her bearings.

She was in an unfamiliar room. It was small but furnished. The walls were a people gray; the floor was a rich color with a red finish. There were no windows, but a shelf was fixed to the wall that held a few books. There was a small dresser at the end of the bed, and a desk across from her at the opposite wall. It had a wooden chair pushed under it. On top of the dresser were stacks of folded clothes. On the desk was what looked like food. The bed she was on was stationed in the corner of the room, and on the left side wall was a door.

As soon as her brain registered it she was on her feet. She couldn't stand being locked up or confined. Not right now. But when she reached the handle to turn it she was astonished to find it unlocked. This perplexed her and she backed up slowly until the back of her knees touched the bed. She let her weight drop; sitting down.

Get a hold of yourself. She took deep breaths now as she tried to reel back her thoughts. How did she end up on this bed?

There was before when Heisenberg thought that she was lying to him. He was so angry; all niceties gone. Not even trying to listen to her practically begging. Then, all of a sudden she was in some sort of vision in a small white room. Was it a memory? That didn't seem right. She was much shorter, and her voice was more high-pitched. It reminded her of a child. The nicer guard, Lyle, had even referred to her as "kiddo". The voice she had now was older, and when she had looked in the mirror last she was sure she looked much older than a child.

But she was seeing it through her eyes. Like it was Zero who had experienced it instead of this Circe. She felt it; the way her muscles moved, the way her shrieks filled her chest and throat. She discounted dreaming since it happened in the middle of her waking hours. The more she thought about it, the more her instincts were telling her that it was, in fact, a memory, and it just so happened to be from when she was young. She still had a sliver of doubt, but she was going to continue with this assumption. It was the most logical.

Which leads her to realize that meant that she had probably just learned her name. Her very own name. Circe. She didn't know if she even liked it yet, but it was hers, and she claimed it. This meant that she could possibly remember who she was; learn even more about herself. Find out where she came from.

Then the idea of reminiscing quickly faded when she had finally processed what she had actually remembered.

She had killed someone. Even if it was an accident; he was dead. She was the one who had let go of the blast that led to his death, and she didn't know how she felt about that. This Doctor Kramer felt like a stranger to her, but at the same time, he felt important. At least, she had felt he was important in the memory. He was just a normal guy; no powers like Heisenberg in sight. He even looked like he had cared for her under his desperate demeanor.

She was dangerous. Why else would the man with the gun have his weapon on her the entire time since he had entered the room? Doctor Kramer seemed like he had forgotten how deadly she could be, blinded by some kind of pure desperation, and it had cost him his life.