Dan's Room – Late Afternoon
Dan sat on the edge of his bed, the journal open before him, his pen tapping nervously against the pages. His mind wasn’t on the words in front of him. Instead, his thoughts swirled in a mess of confusion, dread, and disbelief.
Since that night he had found his mother in the kitchen, working on the laptop, things had changed. The next morning, everything was back to normal. His mother was the same again—no more late-night, mysterious behavior. No more laptop. No more strange, cold expressions. It was like the whole thing had never happened.
But Dan couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.
His mother’s sudden shift in demeanor after years of being a simple, somewhat old-fashioned housewife—avoiding technology, refusing to even own a computer—didn’t make sense. How could she just go from not knowing how to turn on a laptop to typing away with precision and focus like someone who had been using computers for years?
And then there was the map—the one she had been working on, with the markings of the train yard, the missing girls, and his own house. He’d seen it. He couldn’t unsee it. But after that night, when he’d confronted her, she had acted as though nothing had happened. The laptop was gone, and the basement had been locked.
Dan was left with an overwhelming sense of unease, but more than that—he was left with questions. Questions that gnawed at him relentlessly. Was it all just in his head? Was it possible that he was imagining things? What if his mother really hadn’t been involved, and he had just misinterpreted everything?
He ran a hand through his hair and groaned, frustrated. This doubt was eating away at him, making him second-guess every decision, every move he’d made. Maybe he was just going crazy. Maybe he was just too deep into this case, or maybe the pressure of the investigation with Carter had gotten to him.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the glowing laptop screen—the map, the red markings, the words Project Pandora.
His mother's name.
He couldn’t let it go.
* * *
The Living Room – Early Evening
Dan walked into the living room, pacing back and forth. He had to find some kind of proof. He had to know what was going on. But every time he looked at his mother, she seemed perfectly normal. Too normal. And the more he tried to look for signs, the more she seemed to have hidden everything.
It was like she had returned to her role as his mother—a simple woman, making dinner, asking about his day, watching TV in the evening. She hadn’t even brought up the laptop or anything strange at all.
But Dan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. As if his every move was being monitored. Was it just his paranoia? Or was he really being controlled?
“Mom,” he said quietly, walking into the kitchen. His voice sounded hesitant, unsure. “What were you doing last week? With the laptop?”
His mother didn’t even look up from chopping vegetables. The rhythmic motion of the knife against the cutting board was the only sound. “What are you talking about, Dan? I told you, I was just looking up some old family recipes.”
Dan frowned, his pulse quickening. He couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice. “You don’t know how to use a laptop. Not like that.” He paused, trying to gauge her reaction, but his mother merely shrugged as if the matter wasn’t important.
“Well, I’ve been learning, Dan. The world is changing, and so am I.” Her voice was soft, calm, like she was trying to ease him into accepting this new reality.
Dan clenched his fists. The world is changing? That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that his mother had become a stranger overnight, and now she was acting like none of it ever happened.
He stared at her, his heart racing in his chest. “Mom, is there something you’re not telling me?”
Her eyes met his then, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he saw something in them. A flicker of something that wasn’t entirely warmth. Something... guarded. A slight, barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“Dan,” she said, her voice cool but still carrying that soft undertone of concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” She turned back to the cutting board, as if dismissing the conversation entirely.
Dan stood there, frozen, as the kitchen seemed to close in around him. He wanted to ask more, to press her, but something held him back. A part of him was terrified of what he might uncover. If he pushed too hard, would she turn on him? Would she shut him out completely?
The sense of helplessness flooded through him again, but this time, he didn’t back down. His mind raced—he needed more answers. And he couldn’t rely on his mother to provide them.
After dinner, Dan waited for the perfect moment. His mother was watching her favorite show on TV, the sound of the television faintly drifting up the stairs. She wouldn’t notice him sneaking down to the basement.
His footsteps were almost silent as he crept down into the darkness of the basement. The smell of mildew hung in the air, the dampness of the old space pressing in on him. He had to find something—anything—that would confirm his suspicions.
As he reached the corner of the basement, his eyes landed on the stack of boxes. They were piled high, covered in dust, just like they always had been. But something felt different now.
Dan crouched down, pulling open one of the boxes, his heart pounding as he rifled through its contents. Old family photographs, a few of his father’s old tools, some outdated paperwork.
Nothing unusual.
But then, in the back corner of the box, hidden beneath a pile of magazines, he found a thick folder. His hands trembled as he pulled it out, the weight of it feeling far heavier than it should have.
The folder was labeled in bold black letters: Project Pandora: Classified.
Dan’s breath caught in his throat. This was it—the confirmation he had been looking for.
He opened the folder with shaking hands. Inside were printed documents, old photographs, and strange sketches. As he scanned through the pages, a sickening feeling washed over him. The sketches depicted symbols—ones that didn’t belong in the real world. The photographs showed people he didn’t recognize—except for one, at the bottom. It was a photograph of his mother, younger, standing next to someone he didn’t know. The man’s face was obscured, but his posture was unmistakable. He was standing too close, as though guiding her, controlling her.
Dan’s pulse pounded in his ears as the final page flipped open. The writing on it made his blood run cold.
“Subject: Sarah Donovan. Phase 3 complete. Target acquired.”
Dan staggered back, the paper slipping from his hands as his knees buckled beneath him. His mind reeled, but one thing was clear: His mother had been part of something much darker than he could have ever imagined.
His own mother.
The darkness had touched her long before Dan had ever suspected.
* * *
