Chapter 63

Chapter 63 (Nell’s POV)

The room was too still.

Not quiet—still.

Like everything had frozen, waiting for me to catch up to the weight in my chest.

I sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around myself, staring at nothing. Just trying to breathe.

Everything was different now.

And yet... somehow still the same.

Alex was just outside the door. I knew he was giving me space, but I could feel him. Pacing. Hovering. Waiting.

I didn’t know what to feel anymore.

Relief that I was alive?

Grief for the version of me that didn’t get to choose?

Shame that my family probably thought I was dead?

Or maybe all of it at once.

\---

I stood slowly.

My legs ached. Not from injury, but from stillness. From holding too much emotion in one body for too long.

I opened the door.

Alex turned at once.

His eyes were red-rimmed, tired. His shoulders dropped a little when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

He nodded, stepping back to let me through.

We didn’t go far. Just the hallway. But it felt like a step out of a fog.

I leaned against the wall.

He stood across from me, hands in his pockets, eyes searching mine carefully.

“I have a question,” I said.

“Anything.”

“The experiment. My file. The consent... I want the truth, Alex. Not what they told you. What you know.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

“My parents,” he said finally. “They signed for me.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“I didn’t know either,” he added quickly. “I thought I signed a basic research consent form when I was sixteen. But that was just a front.”

He looked down.

“They signed the actual release two years earlier. Before they passed.”

“Your parents?” I said again.

He nodded. “They were trying to get me help. For... memory gaps. Grief stuff. My mom thought it was harmless. My dad probably didn’t even read the full terms.”

I pressed a hand to my chest.

“I didn’t know that was allowed.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” he said softly. “But Reed found loopholes.”

Of course he did.

\---

“And me?” I asked after a beat. “What about my consent?”

Alex looked up.

His face was gentle. Careful.

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

I paused.

“No... yes... maybe.”

And then it hit me.

A flash.

Just one.

I was nine. Sitting on the stairs. Listening.

Dad’s voice.

Sharp. Loud.

“We don’t have a choice,” he’d said. “It’s a medical trial. They said it might help her anxiety.”

Mom’s voice. Softer. Hesitant.

“But she’s just a child…”

“Do you want her to keep waking up like that?” Dad said.

Silence.

Then Mom’s whisper: “Fine. But if anything goes wrong—”

“It won’t,” Dad interrupted. “They promised it was safe.”

\---

I swallowed hard.

“They signed for me,” I whispered. “My parents. Or... my dad.”

Alex took a step closer.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it,” I said.

“No, but I should’ve known,” he said. “I should’ve seen the signs. I could’ve stopped it.”

“You were a kid.”

“So were you.”

\---

I looked at him.

For once, I didn’t feel like a victim.

I felt like someone who’d been robbed—yes—but who could still get some of it back.

Some of me.

Some of him.

I leaned against the wall, eyes burning.

“I’ve been gone for weeks, Alex. My mom, my dad, Chris... they must be losing their minds.”

Alex nodded. “Rick said he intercepted any digital trace. But... yeah. It’s been nearly a month.”

A month.

A whole month.

Just vanished from their lives.

“They think I’m dead,” I whispered.

“They need to know you’re not.”

\---

He didn’t push me.

He didn’t reach for me.

He just stood there, letting me decide.

After everything, he still left the choice to me.

I loved him for that.

I walked up to him slowly. Slid my arms around his waist. Rested my head against his chest.

His arms wrapped around me instantly, tightly.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“So am I,” he said.

“But I want to fix things,” I said. “Not just the project. Not just this mess.”

He waited.

“I want to go home.”

\---

He didn’t speak at first.

Then he whispered into my hair, “We’ll go.”

“To my family,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Always.”

\---

And just like that, for the first time in weeks, I felt like Nell again.

Not a host.

Not a subject.

Just a girl with too many thoughts and a boy who didn’t give up on her.

We stood there in the hallway.

Two people who had their lives rewritten, erased, and stitched back together.

But we were still here.

Still real.

Still us.