Page 149 of Wicked Nightmare

"Lakey?" Sarah's voice sounded far away. "Are you alright?"

I wanted to laugh. Alright? I was so far from alright, I couldn't even see it in the rearview mirror.

"Yeppp," I managed, my voice cracking. "I am purrrrrr-fect.”

I was about to stand when everything went black, shifting to the lab under the nunnery. Sarah's voice was frantic as she tried to snap me out of it. Only this wasn't because of her. This was all me. Pandora's Box had been unlocked and now the monsters were coming out to play. I saw myself on that cold metal table, strapped down. The doctors loomed over me, their faces hidden behind masks, eyes full of wonder and curiosity.

"Subject is prepped for caesarean," one of them said, voice muffled. "Administer the paralytic."

I felt the needle pierce my skin, and then... nothing. I couldn't move, my screams were drowned out by a nun putting her hand over my mouth, but I could feel everything. Every cut, every tug, every moment as they tore my baby from me.

"Fuck," I whispered, tears burning my eyes.

"Lakey, come back—"

"No!" I snarled, my fingers digging into the couch. "I need to see this. I need to remember." Sarah kept talking, but I didn't hear her. Her voice replaced by the ones in the room.

The doctors were talking, their voices echoing in my head.

"Beautiful specimen," one said, holding up a squirming, bloody bundle. My daughter. Our daughter.

"Careful," another warned. "The subject can still hear everything."

Someone laughed, a hearty, belly laugh. "Oh, don't worry about her. TL97 will wipe any trace of this from her memory. She will forget all about this, her child, anything that ever existed outside of the foster homes she lives in. We've perfected the formula and it's flawless."

"Excellent. Nicely done, Christopher." The doctor said, still holding my screaming girl in the air. "Now that we have this, we can let them live and rot as they will."

Christopher... no... it cannot be. Father Christopher?

"I'll put the recall words in her subconscious memory bank, just in case we need to activate her. Patient Y is already set for military removal. Patient X is one of the best breeders we could have asked for. We should keep her here. It was stupid to schedule her for sterilization."

"Sure, whatever you want. I have the child; I'm finished with trials for now. Take the baby to Anne, let her get her ready for her ceremony. Ensure Janine is ready." The doctor spoke in clipped words, handing the baby off to someone outside of my vision as he walked around to my head, stroking my hair. "Well done, little lamb."

As they took her away, I felt something inside me shatter and reform. A resolve, hard and unbreakable. I'd find her. It was just a matter of time.

I blinked, the world slowly coming back into focus. The living room materialized around me, a stark contrast to the sterile nightmare I'd just relived. My eyes landed on Sarah, who was sitting there clutching a knife to her side.

"Scared, Sarah?"

"Lakey?" Sarah's voice was cautious, probing. "How are you feeling?"

I wanted to laugh. She was terrified of me and asking how I was feeling. Clearly not as traumatized as she was feeling right now. I'd been gutted, hollowed out, and filled with razor blades. I could tear this whole fucking house down with my bare hands.

Instead, I smiled.

"I'm great. Thanks for asking."

Sarah's brow furrowed, her hand tightening around the knife. Kyle was standing in the doorway, watching me, his hand casually on his gun. "What you've experienced... it's a lot to process. We should discuss—"

"Nah, I'm good. I got what I needed." I cut her off, rising from the couch. "Think I'll grab a snack. All this remembering's made me hungry."

As I headed for the kitchen, my mind was racing. Cam. Our daughter. Chimera. It was all connected, a twisted web of lies and pain. And at the center of it all, me. Their perfect little killer.

I could hear Rose and Cam from the kitchen, casual chatter and laughter. It sounded so normal. Like the world hadn't just turned inside out.

I paused at the doorway, watching them. Cam was leaning against the counter, that cocky grin on his face as he regaled Rose with some bullshit story. He looked so at ease. Until he looked at me and his face hardened ever so slightly. His hand went to his back pocket. Flick. Open. Flick. Closed. He could read my face, and the knife was already working.

Part of me wanted to march in there, grab him by the throat, and tell him everything. But another part wanted to wait until tonight, because tonight we could be alone, we could mourn and plot and plan.