Patient A-3

Chapter 43: To You, From Mom

Mrs. Adair

 The piercing echoes of the guards' desperate screams reverberate through the corridors, propelling me into a frenzied rush to organize everything. Time is slipping away, a relentless countdown to the moment the monsters below breach the last line of defense. Frantically, I ensure that our to-go bags, stowed away in the discreet confines of the foyer closet, are prepared. Each item was carefully chosen, each necessity accounted for, our survival packed into those bags, anticipating the chaos about to unfold. Yet, amidst the urgency, there's one crucial task left- delivering the note to the upper floor.

 My husband scrambles to barricade the basement door, and with a resounding thud, he secures it, sealing the guards within without a second thought, binding their fate. The distant shouts serve as a stark reminder of the harsh decisions made in the name of our survival. The guards, unwittingly left behind, would have never been able to make it past the secret door anyway, especially with how heavy it is. They're nothing but collateral in our desperate bid to escape.

 Unaware of Patient A-1 covertly consuming A-2's portions, my husband had no inkling that the blood he fed was ultimately bolstering A-1's strength. This augmented strength empowered A-1 to overpower a guard, allowing it the opportunity to seize the keys. My husband managed to make his escape just in the nick of time.

 With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I hastily scrawl words onto the cheap school notebook paper. The urgency propels my hand, each stroke a fervent attempt to document vital information. The belief that I'll reach Avalyn's apartment on the rundown side of town before the pursuing monsters find their way up fuels my hurried writing. However, I'm not oblivious to the potential of complications, there's always an off chance that something goes wrong.

 I scribble down everything my frantic mind can think of, then fold the paper, addressing it:

 To you, from Mom

 Breathless, I sprint up the steps, nearly tripping over my own feet, but I manage to reach Avalyn's old room. The monsters wouldn't care enough to venture into this space. Even if they did, the thought of them searching the child's bed seems absurd.

 My thoughts shift to my daughter. I know her, despite the facade she puts on. In the case something happens to us before we can reunite with her, the knowledge that she would inherit the house offers a small comfort. She's soft, much like her father. She'd come back.

 Patient One and Two will leave the house immediately- their lingering presence in the house is unnecessary. If they manage to reach us, their second priority would be finding Avalyn. As long as she finds this note before they locate her, she'll have a fighting chance.

 After slipping the note beneath the small pillow, I waste no time. My husband stands stationed by the front door, his phone pressed to his ear in a frantic conversation. When he notices me, he swings the door open and seizes our bags. In synchronized chaos, we sprint to the awaiting car.

 The call ends as he puts the car into drive, speeding away from the house. The long driveway is left behind in a blur as we navigate the twists and turns in the direction of Avalyn's home. Though it's a considerable distance- nearly a half hour or more under normal circumstances- our frantic state propels us forward, determined to reach her as swiftly as possible.

 "Who was that?" I question, referring to my husband's phone call. "Who were you speaking to?"

 "The Wellingtons."

 "They're aware of your mistake? Our reputation is on the line. You've jeopardized everything!" I snap, my aggravation evident, knowing that his failure also reflects poorly on me.

 He scoffs, a nonchalant gesture as he runs a hand through his fading hair. "They'll accept us. Once we have Av, we'll board a plane to New York, and we can secure our safety by buying our way in. It might mean working under their name, taking a seat at their table, but we'll be protected."

 I click my tongue in frustration, resentful of the fact that our name is destined to fade away, much like the other family's did. Among the three families that founded the organization, only two remain operational today, and unfortunately, we are the less significant one.

 I knew I should have married a Wellington.

 The lore suggests that the third family lost its title centuries ago when the eldest daughter attempted to broker herself to a prominent man. In those bygone times, the repercussions were severe, and the entire family's reputation crumpled as a result.

 The identity and fate of the third family are shrouded in secrecy, known only to one person- the enigmatic head of the Wellingtons. Despite being the helm of his influential family, he remains a mysterious figure, elusive even to his closest relatives. The reason behind his decision to dwell in the shadows remains a perplexing enigma, and while rumors abound, the truth of his seclusion is unveiled in uncertainty, however, I have my own theories.

 He holds the reins of everything, our every move meticulously reported back to him. Yet, within our own domain, we had a degree of autonomy. Now, we are reduced to mere pawns, beholden to smaller bosses who, in turn, answer to the ultimate authority. We're stripped of our independence, relegated to the status of commoners in a system where our actions echo through a chain of command, ultimately leading to the elusive figure at the top. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if we were put to work at the auctions, forgoing our positions as researchers.

 I roll my eyes at the thought, feigning understanding as I speak to my husband, "You're right, honey. We'll be safe; that's what's most important."

 He sighs, extending his hand over the console to delicately clasp mine. The touch feels foreign; I can't remember the last time I held my husband's hand. The calloused, rough texture against my smooth skin almost prompts a recoil of disgust, yet I muster my best imitation of a genuine smile and respond with a feigned warmth, offering a gentle squeeze with my fingers.

 The stars cast a subtle glow into the darkened car, and I surrender to the dim ambiance. I let my eyes flutter shut, exhaling a sigh of relief as the proximity of our destination becomes palpable.

 Not even ten minutes away.

 The next time I open my eyes, the world is a blur of spinning chaos, the car in the midst of a violent flip. In that disoriented moment, I don't recognize the sound of my husband's last breath, the only and last image etched into my consciousness is the gaze of Patient A-1. There, in a haunting twist of fate, a smile graces its face- for the first time, perhaps, in its entire existence.

//

the lore is growing 👀

also I don't think I ever gave her parents a name?? oops??

I'll try my bestest to get the next chapter out on Friday :)

thank you for reading!