Chapter 8 - The Real FatherWe ran until my lungs burned.
Mara led us through another tunnel.
My father limped behind us.
Clara carried the second Ariel.
Glen stayed beside me.
Or what I believed was Glen.
I couldn't stop looking at him.
Metal parts.
Project Mirror.
Six years missing.
Two identical men.
Nothing about my life felt real anymore.
Then we reached an old concrete room.
Mara slammed the door.
“Everyone stay quiet.”
Nobody spoke.
The silence was suffocating.
Finally, Glen whispered:
“I need to tell you something.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The basement.”
He swallowed.
“I remember.”
My father looked up.
“What basement?”
“The one under the hospital.”
Mara went still.
“What did you remember?”
Glen closed his eyes.
“I was there the night Ariel was born.”
My heart pounded.
“You said you weren't.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't supposed to remember.”
He touched his temple.
“For years, I thought I had dreams.”
He looked at me.
“But they weren't dreams.”
Mara moved closer.
“What did you see?”
Glen whispered:
“Two newborn girls.”
My heart stopped.
“The nurses switched them.”
“Why?”
“To hide the identity of one child.”
“Which one?”
Glen looked toward Ariel.
“The one with the memory.”
My daughter.
Ariel.
He continued.
“Your mother knew what they were doing.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“My mother died before Ariel was born.”
“I know.”
“Then how could she know?”
Glen looked at my father.
“She didn't.”
My father stared at the floor.
“Your father did.”
I turned.
“What?”
My father finally spoke.
“Your mother never died naturally.”
The room spun.
“What are you saying?”
“She was murdered.”
My father's voice cracked.
“She found out Orion had ordered the exchange.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because they were watching.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
Clara stepped forward.
“Your mother left one message before she died.”
“What message?”
Clara opened her phone.
Pressed play.
A woman's voice filled the room.
My mother's voice.
I hadn't heard it in sixteen years.
“Clara, if you're hearing this, then I'm gone.”
I started crying immediately.
Her voice continued.
“They'll come for my daughter.”
A pause.
“Protect her.”
Another pause.
“And never let them learn which child carries the memory.”
The recording ended.
I covered my mouth.
Ariel looked up at me.
“Mommy?”
I hugged her.
My father looked away.
Mara suddenly whispered:
“The memory.”
“What?”
“She has it.”
“Why?”
“She was exposed to something at birth.”
“To what?”
Mara shook her head.
“Not something.”
“Then what?”
She looked toward the second girl.
“Someone.”
The second Ariel began crying.
“She remembers too.”
Everyone stared.
Mara approached her.
“What do you remember?”
The girl pointed at Glen.
“Daddy carried me.”
Then she pointed at my father.
“Grandpa locked the door.”
My father stumbled backward.
“No.”
The girl continued.
“Mommy screamed.”
I turned toward my father.
“Did you lock them in?”
“No.”
The girl frowned.
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“You told Daddy not to come back.”
My father began shaking.
“I didn't know.”
“Know what?”
He collapsed into the chair.
“That the child they took wasn't yours.”
Silence.
Then he looked at me.
“You weren't born an only child.”
I held my breath.
“You had a sister.”
My heart cracked.
“Where is she?”
My father looked toward the second Ariel.
“She survived.”
Mara whispered:
“She was turned into the first Mirror subject.”
The second girl looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Mommy.”
I froze.
Because that was the word she used.
Not for me.
For the younger version of me in the old photographs.
Then she pointed behind me.
“He's here.”
I turned.
The mechanical Glen stood in the doorway.
May you like
His glowing eyes were fixed on Ariel.
And beside him stood a woman who looked exactly like my dead mother.
