The Scientist

Lost

Xisuma pov

I’ll be honest, after my little meltdown on the patio, everything seemed to blur together for the next few months. Days turned into nights, and weeks slipped past me in a haze. It wasn’t that I didn’t care—I just couldn’t feel much of anything. While the others seemed to adjust better to life outside, I felt like I was just going through the motions.

We started going to the park more often, trying to get fresh air and break the monotony. Tango, of course, was having a blast, running around like nothing had changed. I’d watch him from a distance, feeling a strange mix of envy and emptiness. Everyone else seemed to be moving forward, finding ways to enjoy this new life. But I was still stuck, carrying the weight of someone who should’ve been here with me.

I couldn’t let go. I brought the plushie everywhere, clutched it like a child hanging onto their favorite toy. It was more than just a comfort—it was a piece of him, the only thing I had left that made me feel like he was still around. But no matter how tightly I held onto it, it wasn’t the same. It didn’t fill the void he left behind.

I missed him. Every day, in a thousand little ways. Whether it was the empty space beside me when I sat at the park or the silence where his laughter used to be, there was always something reminding me that he was gone. And no matter how much time passed, that ache never really went away.

The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. Back then, I didn’t want to give myself any false hope, not when everything was falling apart. But now, with some distance, I couldn’t help but wonder—why did I just take their word for it? The scientists, they told me he was dead. But that was it. They just said it. No proof, no explanation beyond their cold, detached words. I didn’t see a body. I didn’t see anything that actually confirmed it. Maybe that was part of their twisted game, another way to mess with my emotions, to see how I would react.

Maybe I should have questioned it. Maybe I should have pushed harder instead of letting myself sink into the grief they handed me. But at the time, I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t have the energy to fight back, not when they’d already broken me so many times. And maybe—just maybe—I was afraid. Afraid of what I might find if I did look for answers. Afraid that it might be true, and that confronting it would hurt even more.

But now, as I lay here thinking about it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I had been too quick to believe them. Maybe they knew that, counted on it. They had always used our emotions against us, testing us, pushing us to see what would break us. Why wouldn’t they lie about this too? Maybe this was just another experiment in their endless list of ways to toy with us.

Still, there was a part of me that didn’t want to believe it. That small, nagging piece of hope that clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—he was still out there somewhere. But I should know better. I should have known better than to just blindly believe what they told me. After everything they put us through, after all the lies and manipulation, I should’ve questioned it. I should have demanded proof.

But I didn’t. And now, all I have left are these doubts and the overwhelming feeling that I missed something. Something important.

The tightness in my chest made it harder to breathe, like the weight of everything was pressing down on me all at once. I could feel my heart pounding, the familiar knot of anxiety twisting tighter. I needed to focus on something else, anything to get my mind off of it before it overwhelmed me completely.

I looked over at Skiz and Scar, who were running around the park like chickens with their heads cut off, completely oblivious to the weight of the world that was sitting on my shoulders. They were laughing, chasing each other around like little kids, caught up in their own chaotic fun. It was almost impossible not to crack a smile at the sight of them. Skizz was yelling something, probably about some game they were playing, and Scar, as usual, was trying to one-up him with a ridiculous move or some half-baked plan that was bound to go sideways.