Experiment of Madness

2-An Ominous Resemblance-Dag

A month ago.

I sat at the dinner table with my family, but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't shake off the image of that mad girl, her white hair, her metallic eyes, an imprint on my mind. The question echoed in my mind.

I've seen those eyes before, too, but where?

I felt a flicker of curiosity that I suppressed behind a facade of stoicism.

My gaze shifted to Octavia, her narrowed eyes on the Russian girl, out brother's girlfriend. She was from the true mafia, a fact that heightened my suspicions. I wondered what secrets she was hiding. I looked at her, searching her face, but she remained stoic, her face giving away nothing.

Sasha, my brother's girlfriend, the Russian girl, took Fane's hand and smiled awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. I watched her stoic mask firmly in place, my mind working silently. There was something about her.

After her mother's death, she started living with us. The tension in the air tightened, and the family's pain reminded us of the past trauma of the day Fane had been shot because of her.

Octavia, always one to challenge, made a remark that cut through the tension."Are you two done with your sappy hand-holding and lovey-dovey eyes? You're killing my appetite."

Our mom tried to defuse the tension. "Octavia, be nice," she warned, her voice weary but firm.

As I rolled my eyes at the family drama, I let my gaze wander back to the files. The mad girl, so mysterious, so hidden, her secrets, I felt drawn to them. There are so many hidden files, an air of secrecy, as if the hospital wanted to hide her. It begged the question, why? Was she special? What was she hiding? I thought, letting my stoic façade remain in place, my curiosity simmering beneath.

"White hair, metallic eyes," I murmured to myself, a hint of curiosity creeping in. "Was she an albino?" I wondered aloud, my voice low and stoic, my expression giving away nothing to those who sat around me, except to my own mind. Her unique appearance made me curious, but my stoic mask remained unbudged.

Octavia's question broke the silence. "Who's albino?" She asked, her voice cutting through the tension, but my words were quick, cutting in with a cool reply, my inner curiosity still masked by that stoic exterior. "An albino person is someone whose body doesn't produce enough melanin," I replied calmly, my tone distant and calm, as if reciting from a textbook.

Octavia scoffed at my stoic reply. "You don't have to be a smart-ass about it. I know what being an albino is," she retorted. Fane smirked.

I couldn't resist a small smirk, despite the stoic mask, a faint crack revealing itself. "Then why did you bother asking?" I shot back.

As I read through the hidden files, my quiet curiosity sparked, my expression stoic, my mind absorbed in these hidden secrets. Suddenly, dad's voice cut through the silence, "Don't read this at the table," he said sternly.
I felt caught, his words like a slap of reality, the files were secret, the air growing heavier.

The atmosphere in the air grew heavier .Mom's question, masked under concern, hung heavily, "Are you sure you want to work in that hospital?" I could feel all eyes on me, and as stoic as I always was, a flicker of uncertainty stirred within me. "Yes, I want to work there," I responded simply.

I rose from the table, my stoic mask unbreakable, as I announced, "I'll be in my room." With that, I left the dinner table, my inner world swirling, the secrets and madness of the hospital I worked in.

With my two older brothers away at college, there was a sense of victory. I had the room to myself, finally free, free of my siblings. No more sharing with Fane, no more waking up to his disgusting smells. It felt like a small victory, a small break from the shared space, a temporary reprieve from the annoyance.

I found myself engulfed in the files once more, the secrets within their pages. She had a full room of cameras, her files hidden, and different treatments than other patients. It sparked a curiosity, an itch to understand the mystery she embodied. The room of images seemed to plead, begging for answers I had to find, their way calling out to me.

In my pursuit to be her therapist, I had faced rejection, yet I'd managed. Now, the hidden files were in my hands. I had a chance to explore, to learn more.

I opened up the mad girl's files, noticing something odd. The documents felt too clean and tidy, almost unnaturally so. It raised an eyebrow as I continued flipping through the files, feeling a wave of curiosity and suspicion wash over me. There was something fishy going on, the papers too devoid of any trace or evidence or, even more oddly, personality. It was as if someone was wiping the files clean of any information, hiding something within them.

The thought buzzed in my mind, What is this hospital trying to hide? The lack of information in the files, the absence of any apparent history or context, and the uncanny cleanliness seemed deliberate. There was a feeling of a mystery that needed to be uncovered, something hidden, intentionally or otherwise, in the white pages. It was evident these papers were keeping a secret.

I felt suspicious as I studied her white hair and metallic eyes. The name 'Ela' didn't seem quite fitting. The metallic quality of her eyes felt almost artificial. It made me wonder, could 'Ela' be her real name? Or is it a name provided by the hospital to hide her true identity. Something was off, and the name 'Ela' felt like another layer of intrigue hiding the truth.

The image of the girl with white hair and metallic eyes, so white she seemed like a ghost, felt all too familiar somehow. My mind raced as I tried to recall where I had seen such a sight before, trying to unlock the memory buried in the depths of my mind. A feeling of recognition, a recollection at the tip of my brain, but where had I encountered such a sight, what memory or story had this image stirred within me?

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate, to push my mind to recall the memories, to remember something, anything associated with her. It felt like my brain was grasping at threads, trying to piece together the pieces of this puzzle.

"Come on, work," I whispered to myself, mentally urging my brain to connect the dots. I felt the memories so close, the information just out of reach, it was frustrating, the answer just outside my grasp. The white hair and metallic eyes felt like déjà vu, a sight I knew I had seen before, but where?

"Renerys Targaryen," the name buzzed in my mind, and I felt realization click like a lock. The image of Renerys, the memory locked in my mind, the pieces coming together. The name "Ela" felt even more like a facade now, and the resemblance couldn't be just a coincidence. My suspicions were solidified, and the connection felt tangible, but I needed to know more. I felt like I was close, the puzzle feeling like it was falling into place. I needed to get to the bottom of this.

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