(NOTE: CHAPTERS ARE CURRENTLY BEING EDITED)
In which Teresa wasn't the first girl to come up in the box...
*This is a NewtxOC fanfic*
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Emma wakes up in a dark box, starting her new life with only memories of her name and a boy named Thomas...
the g...
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We let the waters rise
We drifted to survive.
I needed you to stay
But I let you drift away
My love, where are you?
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Emma walked down the long, sterile hallway, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold, tiled floor.
The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting an eerie, unnatural glow that heightened the unsettling feeling crawling under her skin. Each door she passed revealed a glimpse of unsettling scenes...
Children, strapped to beds or sitting quietly in chairs, being tested and prodded by figures in white coats. The walls were pale and clinical, and the air reeked of disinfectant, making it feel as though any trace of life had been scrubbed away.
She'd been down this hallway before, at least in a dream that is.
Her heart pounded in her chest, a deep unease growing as she continued forward. The muffled voices from the rooms barely registered in her mind, blending with the quiet hum of machines and the occasional beep of monitors tracking vitals.
At the end of the hall, she entered a large room filled with enormous screens.
The room buzzed with frenetic energy, muffled conversations, the tapping of keyboards, the soft shuffle of feet across the floor. Teens and adults moved swiftly, their faces emotionless as they monitored data or adjusted equipment. The air felt charged, oppressive, as if the weight of countless lives depended on the work happening in this room.
Emma's eyes scanned the room, trying to make sense of it all.
Each screen displayed data, vitals, brain activity, and profiles of children; Some she vaguely recognized, others who felt like distant memories. The overwhelming busyness of the environment made her feel small, as though she was merely a ghost passing through.
Then, across the see-through glass wall of monitors in front of her, Emma saw a figure.
A woman, dressed in white, her blond hair tied into a tight bun, moved purposefully on the opposite side of the screen. But her face was blurred, obscured, making her identity elusive.
Emma followed her movements from behind the glass, her gaze drawn to the older woman until she stopped at one particular desk.
Without thinking, Emma took a seat in the chair in front of her, instinctively drawn to the desk opposite the woman. The woman leaned down, speaking softly to the boy seated there.
