i was sitting in my Mothers home office. My room is in complete ruin. everything burned down,
my bed, my bookshelf and even my diary, where i kept the secrets of the other world buried within. Alyssa, my fathers assistant, already made some arrangements to savour the few things that were still saveable but i still felt a pang of regret.
the amount of passion and information i put into this diary was devastatingly high. and now it was gone.
"Noah. please explain what happened" shaking me out of my thoughts, was my mothers warm voice, even as it still seemed like she was shaken up.
silence engulfed us and after a few seconds my mother sighed in resignation.
"nevermind, you must be still in shock, you dont have-"
"walls burning." I said, lifting my gaze from the desk that was in between us, directly locking eyes with my mother "i saw a house burning. and i was directly in the middle of it. a boy my age was asking for help. i wanted to help, desperately so. but i couldnt move at all. it was just like the other dreams i had of the strange world. but this time i wasnt just simply watching, mom. i was part of it."
desperation seeped into my voice as i pleaded "please believe me, Mom"
i searched her face for any type of reaction but her face stayed blank and my heart started sinking. She didnt believe me one bit.
Elara was silent for a moment. Too long of a moment.
Then, she smiles softly, reaching across the desk to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. It's the same gentle gesture she's always used, one that used to make me feel safe.
"I believe that it felt real to you, sweetheart," she says, her voice warm, careful. "Dreams can be powerful, especially when they're tied to strong emotions. The mind works in strange ways to make sense of things."
I stiffen. There it is. The subtle shift in her tone, the way she almost says she believes me, but doesn't. She's explaining it anyway.
"You've always had a vivid imagination," she continues, her fingers now holding onto my cheek, like she's trying to soothe me. "That's not a bad thing, Noah. It just means your mind is special. Maybe this was your way of processing something. Maybe even something real, just… not in the way you think."
My chest tightens. I knew she wouldn't believe me. No one ever does.
"But, Mom—"
She shakes her head gently, the corners of her lips twitching, like she wants to be understanding. "You've been through a lot today," she says instead. "Maybe we should focus on that first. The fire wasn't a dream, Noah. That was real. And it means something. We need to understand that before we chase anything else, alright?"
I swallow hard. There's something about the way she says it—so certain, so composed. Like she's already decided the truth, and anything outside of it is just a story.
I should argue. Should insist. But what's the point?
My gaze lowered to my lap. My fingers curl into my palms, the skin there still tingling with phantom heat. I could still feel the fire, still see it behind my eyelids. I wasn't just imagining it. I wasn't. And yet—
"Alright," I say instead, my voice hollow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
That dream was truly only the beginning. The arguments with my mother got longer and it was the first time i really ever tried to stand my ground against her.
She was my World and whatever she said, was the truth. But if she doesnt believe anything i ever say, why exactly should i trust her? i know what i saw, i know what i felt and i know it was real.
just three years later, when i reached the age i could attend Arcadia academy, instead of going there, they sent me here. truly so funny arent they?
"its for your own good, Noah" my face twisted in anger.
The doctor left after administering the usual dose of drugs. It wasn't really about keeping me 'calm.' The man didn't give a damn about my comfort. He was trying to see if the drugs would affect my 'episodes,' or if I'd get another vision.
And with the sodium thiopental injected every damn time, i had no other way but tell the truth, even if i dont quite remember what i said.
I don't even know what half the drugs they inject me with are anymore. But every time I wake up, it's like I've just slipped deeper into a fog, and every time I'm sure I've seen something,
I can't remember. And with that, it was another way for them to push me deeper into this mess they've made of my life.
these Experiments been going on for 4 years, since the tender age of 14. Man, i basically grew up here didnt i? I thought my teenager years were supposed to be my most important ones.
I shifted in the bed, the sound of the stiff sheets scraping against me. The silence was unbearable, just like it always was in this place. I stared at the blank ceiling, counting the tiles. Maybe if I counted them enough, I'd disappear.
I couldn't help but chuckle darkly to myself.
"Bad luck," I muttered under my breath, barely loud enough to hear. But it was the truth. I'd known it from the moment I woke up in this godforsaken place. Every time something felt right, something good—I was just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.
The familiar beeping of the heart monitor next to me hummed in time with my thoughts. If only I could get some peace from this shitshow of a life.
The door creaked open just a crack, and I didn't need to look to know it was one of the nurses. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Don't worry, I'm still alive."
The nurse didn't respond, just walked in and checked my signs without saying a word. It was like clockwork. I was so used to this routine, I could've done it myself by now. I barely felt the pinch of the needle when she injected something into my arm. Another dose of who-knows-what to keep me calm.
"How long are we going to keep doing this?" I finally asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel the sarcasm bleeding through.
She didn't answer, of course. They never did. The nurse just straightened up, adjusted her uniform, and walked out as if nothing had happened. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.
The bitter irony of it all wasn't lost on me. I'd thought the dream had been a bad omen, a warning of some kind. But no, this, this place, this routine, this insanity, felt like the beginning of something much worse.
And all I could do was sit here, helpless, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.