Chapter 37
Kenzi
The lights are too bright. Even with my eyes half closed, I can see the glare of burning at the edges of everything. The table, the floor, the careful posture of Dr. Radley across from me.
He has changed little, and his smile is still the same measured curve I remember from the conversations in his office before I knew my actual history. My old memories—including the one that used to mean applause was coming—are coming more into focus now.
Beside me, Sofia stands steady. Her hand rests lightly on my shoulder, grounding me. I can feel her pulse through her fingertips, fast but controlled. She will keep me safe until I’m ready to do that for myself.
“You look well, Mackenzie,” Radley says, voice smooth as polished marble. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
I keep my gaze low, rehearsing my breathing. “I imagine you weren’t.”
He leans forward, folding his hands. “You were always gifted, the perfect subject. Even as a child, you understood performance.”
The words hit like a slap. Performance.
Sofia’s fingers press once on my shoulder. That’s our cue. I need to stay calm and in control.
“I remember everything,” I say evenly. “The stage, the spool, and the curtain call.”
His eyes glint. “Ah, so you’ve been remembering. How delightful.”
I force myself to look at him. “You built us to forget, and that was your mistake.”
His smile falters.
Good. One small step toward being on level ground.
Sofia steps forward, her voice calm, clinical. “Dr. Radley, I’m here to review your ongoing programming models. I’d like to document this conversation for research accuracy.”
He glances at her, eyes narrowing. “And you are?”
“Dr. Sofia Hanson,” she says evenly. “North Ridge, Class of 1995.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on.
Something flickers across his face. It’s recognition, then disdain. “Ah. One of the defectives.”
Sofia’s expression doesn’t change. “One of the survivors.”
“Ta-may-to, ta-mah-to.” Radley rises from his chair. “I see. So this is an ambush.”
Before Sofia can respond, the lights flicker. Once, twice, then steady. The air hums.
I glance toward the mirrored wall, and for the briefest second, I think I see movement behind the glass. A silhouette, still as stone. But that’s impossible. I shouldn’t be able to see anything back there. Because of Graham’s occupation, I know how those work.
Sofia keeps her focus on Radley. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to expose everything.”
He chuckles low in his throat. “Expose? My dear, no one will believe you. They never have, and they never will. You can’t even begin to understand the protocols I’ve put into place. Why do you think everything has gone on so swimmingly all these decades?”
I rise. The chair scrapes against the tile, the sound sharp and final. “Then maybe it’s time they crumble.”
He watches me, eyes narrowing. “Be careful, Mackenzie. You were made to perform, not to lead.”
Something cold crawls up my spine—that familiar pull in the back of my mind, the one that used to mean the scene was beginning. For a heartbeat, the air tilts.
Then Sofia’s voice cuts through it. “Kenzi. Look at me.”
I do. Her eyes are fierce, steady. “You’re in control.”
I nod once, the fog breaking. When I turn back, Radley is watching us both like he’s seeing a show he doesn’t understand. I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t get to decide my role anymore.”
And then a sound. A faint buzz from the mirrored wall.
A blink of red light. The cameras.
Radley notices it too. “You didn’t think I’d allow recording in here, did you?”
Sofia’s mouth tightens. “We already have what we need.”
His smile returns, colder this time. “Do you?”
He steps closer to me. I can smell his cologne, the same sharp chemical tang from the hospital days. “Tell me, Mackenzie… do you still remember your lines?”
The words dig under my skin like hooks, sharp and precise. The room pulses, and for a split second, I’m nine years old again, barefoot on a cold stage, the spool in my hands, the spotlight burning white.
The curtain falls when the children sleep.
I feel my lips part before I even think about it, but then I stop. Instead, I meet his eyes and smile.
“I write them now.”
Sofia’s hand tightens on my shoulder.
That’s when the mirror behind him shatters.
Glass explodes outward, the sound like a scream. Radley ducks instinctively, shouting. I drop to the floor, covering my head. Shards of glass rain down like glittering snow. The sound isn’t just noise—it’s memory. Every crash lands somewhere deep inside me, pulling at things I thought I’d buried.
Through the rain of shards, I see movement. A figure stepping through the broken glass, smooth mask gleaming under the light.
Sofia jerks me backward. “Run!”
But the figure lifts a hand. Not to strike, but to point straight at me.
Despite Sofia’s urging, I remain still.
And through the crackle of the broken intercom above, a voice filters in, warped, mechanical, and familiar. “Phoenix… is awake.”
Sofia yanks me backward, one arm across my chest. “Stay down!”
The masked figure steps through the broken wall as if it were nothing. The white of the mask catches the light, smooth and inhuman.
Radley straightens, his composure snapping back in place like a mask of his own. “What is this?”
Silence is his only answer.
The masked figure tilts its head, then lifts one gloved hand. In it, a white spool. Thread already trailing behind.
My breath catches. “No!”
Sofia pulls me behind a row of metal cabinets. Her voice is barely a sound. “Don’t look at it, Kenzi.”
But I can’t look away. The spool unravels as the figure moves, and the thread coils across the floor, looping around chair legs, running like veins of light across the tiles.
Wherever it touches, screens flicker to life on the walls—old footage, grainy and horrific.
The performances, the children, and the cues.
Radley’s voice cuts through the hum. “Stop this! You don’t know what you’re doing.”
The masked figure turns toward him. Finally, he speaks, the voice warped and metallic but unmistakable. “Do you recognize your masterpiece, Doctor?”
My heart slams against my ribs. “Phoenix…”
Long-forgotten memories surface like a movie in my mind.
He turns his head toward me, the mask reflecting my face back at me in the curved sheen. “Hello, Mackenzie.”
Sofia rises just enough to block my view. “What have they done to you?”
Phoenix doesn’t answer her. He just steps closer to Radley, thread still spooling out behind him, binding the room in white lines. His eyes are wild.
Radley backs away, face paling now, all pretense gone. “You were terminated. I… I saw the report.”
Phoenix laughs, a sound that isn’t quite human. “You can’t terminate an idea.”
Sofia grips my wrist. “We have to go. Now!”
But the footage still plays in my mind. Faces of children, of Billa, of me and our childhood selves projected on every screen, performing the old scripts. I can’t tear my focus away.
Phoenix turns to me again. “You wanted the truth, Kenzi. Here it is.”
The thread at his feet pulses once—bright, blinding white—then the lights explode.
The world tilts. Sofia drags me toward the door, glass crunching under our shoes. Somewhere behind us, Radley is shouting, but his words are lost in the roar of static filling my head.
We burst into the corridor just as the emergency lights flicker on, red and dim.
Sofia spins me around, gripping both my shoulders. Her face is pale, streaked with dust. “Listen to me. You do not look back. Whatever that is… it’s not your job to save it.”
“But it’s him,” I gasp. “He’s alive…”
“He’s not alive the way you remember,” she says fiercely. “He’s been changed. Programmed again. That’s what Radley does. We need to get you out of here before he gets to you too.”
The words hit me harder than the sound still ringing in my ears.
Behind us, alarms wail. Somewhere above, boots slam against metal stairs.
Sofia grabs my hand. “We move now. Then we have to find the others. Hurry!”
I nod, forcing air into my lungs, forcing my feet to move.
As we race, the lights flicker again, just once. And through the broken static of the intercom, I hear that distorted voice one last time.
“The performance isn’t over. It’s your cue.”
I stop in my tracks.