𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖍

(𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫)

The best part about leaving the lab at two in the morning was that no one was there to see me get black liquorice from the vending machine.

I held the long twisted stick of candy in my mouth as I locked up my desk and triple-checked it before grabbing my things. Other people's life work surrounded me, each with their own working areas with stacks of documents and daunting machines that were already showing promise.

At all times there were only ever twenty researchers in the lab, when your project gets funding you leave and give up your space and when the school decides you're wasting resources, your stuff gets thrown in a box and left outside for you to find the next morning.

Most of my peers have sensible projects and ideas that would revolutionize the world and get their names printed in bold on a research paper that was too long to read, about a topic that was too boring to care about.

I was surrounded by brilliant people who were completely fine being average.

Willing to settle for five seconds of fame to push out ideas that wouldn't matter in the next century. I saw the way they looked at me, most younger than me that would leave before me and the other cynical assholes who took one look at my name and thought they knew everything about me.

Over the years, I've had some kind ones approach me and inquire about my research. They'd see me fiddling with the metal bracelet I'd finally gotten around to making and stare at it curiously. When I told them what I was researching, they all made the same facial expression, nodded, and politely excused themselves, never to talk to me again. 

They thought I was a nutcase. And that was putting it lightly.

What shocked everyone was that the university was happy to continue funding my research, by March I would officially be the oldest person to ever walk these halls as a scientist, and I know the University couldn't be happier. People thought I was paying my way into staying longer, that I was bribing the college officials with something to convince them not to kick me out.

The real truth is they were waiting for me to give up.

To admit that my theories were dreams and my research fruitless. The board of directors that run this building were devoted and mindless worshippers who accredited all science to Devulla as is shown in the large letters on the front of this building. They were giddy in their wait for me to admit defeat and abandon science altogether.

They did not know that even if I were wrong, I would rather spend the last of my days wandering these halls, pretending like I was making progress than returning my lab coat. They would have to drag me out kicking and screaming.

But for now, I would arrive earlier than anyone and leave after the cleaners because people don't achieve miracles by sleeping the days away. The second best part about going home so late was the round of applause Wes, the sweet homeless man who sat by the steps, would give me each time I would slide down the staircase railway.

I mean sure he probably did it because of the fifty-dollar note I would give him each time afterwards, but to me, the whistle he did as he clapped sounded genuine enough. "You're getting better at that," He complimented with a toothy smile as I slipped him the cash.

"I'm already the best," I snorted back, crouching down to my knees to give the little tabby by his feet a scratch. She hated him, scratched him up whenever he tried to pet her, but hung around him anyway. I'd named her Juno because Wes said he hated the little thing too much to give her one.

He said that, but would always have fresh claw marks on his fingers the next time I saw him.

Juno was nicer to me, I teased Wes that it was because she could tell he hadn't given Ylphine a pray lately but that would only earn me a pointed look from him and a huff. I didn't tell him that I'd given her some of my wings one time when she was lurking on the train. 

As I made my way towards the train, there was a soft echo of footsteps behind me that I didn't bother checking to see who it was. Only drunks and teenagers were still out at this time and lucky me this was a safer part of town so I'd rarely encountered any trouble but when I did I could usually count on Wes to give me a hand.

I could see whoever it was through the corner of my eye before I stepped into the train, they stepped into a completely different cart, so I allowed myself to let my guard down as I made my way to the seat I always looked for.

The sight of fresh vomit on my favourite seat had me grimacing as I mourned the only spot on the train that was near a window that was sealed shut badly, so always had a stream of fresh air directed at it. Grumbling to myself, I turned around to settle for the seat closest to the doors when I was startled by something that made me drop my sweets.

Rumbling vibrated beneath my feet as I stared at the mangled figure of me standing by the entrance to the next cart, staring at me with an empty look on their face. I hadn't had an illusion like this happen to me in so long, long enough that I'd started to believe the Gods had finally forgotten about me.

Yet here I was, my heart rate increasing like the first time it happened. I didn't know why it still frightened me so much, it was the same thing every time, rather uninspired if you asked me. Now that I'd researched Suni, I knew that this was just their gimmick to try to freak me out, but knowing that it was just a tool to distress me didn't do anything to comfort me.

"You do not scare me," I told it, but stepped back regardless, hoping to put some more distance between us. Like always, it did not answer, I doubted it ever would and instead started to approach me slowly. Remembering what Suni said, I shook my head at it "I already know I'm making this happen," I spoke again, still stepping away, "This is me doing this, so I control you."

It's gold-bleached blood dripped onto the floor as it continued to walk forward, the liquid was running down my fingertips and leaving sticky footprints along its path. "You hear me? You have no power over me," I said, a bit louder this time, so I would believe it. My dark black braids were drenched in gold, the bones jutting out of my ankles dragging along the floor in a way that should've made it impossible to walk. Once it neared the place where I once stood, I felt my heartbeat jump and a demand escaped my lips, "Stop!"

Like it was it's first time hearing me, it ceased all movement and stood still just as I'd asked. My chest rose and fell rapidly like I'd finished running a marathon as I waited for it to do something, anything, but it just stood there, eerily still, allowing a puddle of blood to form at its feet. 

I glanced down at the packet of sweets I'd discarded and felt the need to try something. "Pick it up," I ordered, but my voice was shakier, a slight stutter betraying my feigned confidence. Like clockwork, the figure sunk to its knees and grabbed my liquorice off the ground. 

I offered out my palm, "Give it to me."

And before I knew it I was holding it again, their bloody fingertips stained the plastic, but I ignored it as I wrapped my fingertips around the packet of sweets and snatched it away from myself. Slowly I began to calm down as a small sense of triumph tingled up my body, I was in control, I had always been in control.

I let my eyes wander up the figure of me that was identical to the day I died, and for once, I felt a small semblance of peace. Whatever this was had something to do with what I was blessed with, and now I was one step closer to figuring it out—one step closer to my research on artificial miracles.

Now that the figure was up close, the fear in my mind was slowly beginning to melt into sadness, pity. This was me, almost ten years ago. Just a few minutes after I'd been the happiest I'd ever been. She was shorter, just slightly, and her cheeks were rounder with youth. She lacked the deep bags beneath her eyes that I'd grown into and still had a slight slouch from consistent bad posture.

Beneath the blood, she was still me and deep down I missed being her.

I found my hand rising to touch them against my better judgement, I felt almost ashamed for being scared of her. Tormented by just the vision of me when I was at my lowest, how could I look at her and feel anything but affection? She didn't deserve that, I hope she knew it.

"I'm not scared of you," I told it softly and for a split second, emotion filled their once mute eyes. The brown sparkling with tears and just as one spilled over I used my fingertips to wipe it away. As soon as our flesh met, instead of disappearing as they once did, they began to change. Broken bones sunk back into their place and the blood pouring from the wounds was soaked up into their skin.

The braids grew into the red that I had on now and the tattered shirt I wore on that day straightened into the lab coat I was currently wearing. It wasn't long before the figure had changed completely, it was still me, just no longer the one that haunted my nightmares.

It was now the one I saw in the mirror each morning.