What Was Left Behind

Chapter 14: Unlocking the Mind

The room was small and claustrophobic, the air stale and thick. Maia's breath came in shallow bursts as she stood in the center, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space where Dr. Matthews had brought them. It looked more like an interrogation room than a place for medical procedures—bare walls, a single light hanging from the ceiling, and an old, rusted metal chair in the middle of the floor.

Levi stood by the door, his arms crossed, his face lined with tension. The atmosphere between them was heavy with the weight of what was about to happen. Maia could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves, but she couldn't afford to give in to fear now. This was her only chance to find out the truth.

Dr. Matthews stood beside her, his face a mask of calm professionalism, but there was something dark in his eyes—something that made Maia's skin crawl. He was too composed, too sure of what he was about to do.

"If we do this," he said in a low, steady voice, "there's no going back. Once I start unlocking the barriers in your mind, you'll experience everything your father erased, all at once. Every memory, every emotion, everything will come flooding back. It's overwhelming for most people, and not everyone survives it."

The last sentence hung in the air like a noose. Not everyone survives it.

Maia's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't flinch. "I understand. I don't care what happens to me—I need to know the truth."

Dr. Matthews nodded, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "You're brave, but I've seen bravery turn to madness in this room." He gestured to the chair. "Sit."

Maia glanced at Levi, who gave her a small, tense nod of encouragement. "I'll be right here," he said quietly, but his voice couldn't mask the worry in his eyes. "You don't have to do this alone."

Taking a deep breath, Maia walked to the chair and sat down, her palms slick with sweat. The metal was cold against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the very room was pressing in on her.

Dr. Matthews pulled a small device from his bag, a sleek metal box with wires and electrodes attached. He began methodically preparing the equipment, moving with the precision of a man who had done this too many times before. The quiet beeping of the machine filled the silence, each sound like a ticking clock counting down to something Maia couldn't fully understand.

As Matthews placed the electrodes against her temples, Maia's body tensed. The weight of what was about to happen settled over her like a lead blanket, suffocating and cold. Was she ready for this? What if the memories were too much? What if, when she uncovered the truth, she didn't like what she found?

"You might experience disorientation," Dr. Matthews said calmly, adjusting the settings on the machine. "Memories will come in flashes, jumbled and out of order. It's important to stay focused. Hold onto your present reality, or you could get lost in the past."

Maia nodded, her throat too dry to speak. She tried to focus on her breathing, on Levi's presence just a few feet away. She could feel his gaze on her, a quiet reassurance that she wasn't in this alone. But the fear gnawed at her all the same.

Dr. Matthews turned the machine on, and a low hum filled the room, vibrating through the floor. Maia braced herself, her muscles tensing as the electrodes began to warm against her skin. A sharp sensation shot through her skull—like a thousand needles pricking at her mind—and then suddenly, the world shifted.

Flash.
Maia was eight years old, standing in her father's study. The air smelled like old books and leather, and her father stood at his desk, his back to her. She was asking him something, something about her mother, but his voice was cold when he answered.
"Go play somewhere else, Maia. This is important work."
She remembered the sting of rejection, the way his words cut into her. But more than that, she remembered something else—something strange. The feeling of not belonging. Hadn't that been erased?