As Chris’s eyes locked onto the figure on the stretcher, a cold wave of realization crashed over him. His breath caught in his throat, and his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed to the floor, the shock too much to bear. His knees hit the ground with a soft thud, but the sound seed distant, as if the world around him had fallen into a muffled haze.
The room fell silent, the air heavy with the confusion and tension that instantly gripped the others. They turned to Chris, puzzled by his sudden collapse. But before anyone could ask what was wrong, the word that escaped his lips shattered the stillness.
"Dad?" His voice trembled, barely above a whisper. It was a simple word, but it carried an ocean of disbelief, a quiet horror that no one could ignore.
Chris blinked, his gaze still fixed on the stretcher, but his mind was racing, struggling to make sense of the image before him. He couldn’t possibly be seeing this. His eyes must be deceiving him, right?
But no. No, this was real. He recognized the man on that stretcher more than he recognized himself in the mirror. Even in the dim, flickering light of the room, he could see the unmistakable features, the strong jawline, the curve of the nose. And then, there was the hair. The sa shade of blonde that had been passed down from father to son. It wasn’t just similar; it was identical.
Chris’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he rose unsteadily to his feet. The doubt in his mind began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming certainty. This was his father. This mangled, half-beast body was the man who had once held him in his arms, the man who had taught him how to ride a bike, how to fix a flat tire, how to be strong. It didn’t matter that his father’s body had been altered, no, this was unmistakably him.
His mind scread in denial, but the resemblance was undeniable. Every inch of the man before him scread ’father.’ And yet, it wasn’t just the physical likeness; it was the very way his father had stood in the world. The way he had carried himself, the way his presence had filled any room he entered.
Chris’s vision blurred as he took a staggering step forward, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. It felt as though the ground beneath him was tilting, threatening to swallow him whole. But still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He knew this wasn’t a dream, or a twisted trick. This was real. And his father was gone, transford, mutilated, and discarded like a piece of forgotten trash.
A gut-wrenching sob tore from his throat, raw and unrelenting. His legs trembled as he fought to stand, his hand gripping the edge of the stretcher for support. But even in his grief, a small, nagging part of his mind wondered how sothing so horrific had co to pass.
But there was no ti for that now. His father was gone, and all Chris could do was stand there, overwheld by the truth of what he was seeing, struggling to hold onto the fragile thread of sanity that remained.
As Chris’s eyes filled with tears, they glistened like tiny pools reflecting the raw grief and shock that gripped him. His hands trembled at his sides, and his breath hitched in a shallow, erratic rhythm. Before he could completely break down, Dave moved swiftly, his voice low but urgent. "Please, escort him out of here," Dave commanded, his tone sharp, yet compassionate.
Without hesitation, the three teenagers moved toward Chris, their hands gentle but firm as they guided him away from the stretcher. Chris barely registered their touch, his focus still on the body before him, the twisted image of his father that he couldn’t escape.
The mont he was pulled away, he didn’t protest, his feet stumbling as they helped him out of the room, his shoulders shaking violently with each ragged breath he took.
Ella, her face pale, her own heart hamring in her chest, couldn’t bear to stay any longer. The sight was too much. Without a word, she excused herself, retreating from the scene. Her footsteps were quiet as she disappeared down the hall, leaving only Dave and Eric in the dim, unsettling room.
Dave exhaled sharply, pushing back the wave of anger and sadness that surged inside him. His eyes locked onto the body, scanning it for any clues. The man before him, or what was left of him, looked disturbingly fresh.
His skin still held warmth, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the morgue. Dave could tell the body hadn’t been dead long, there was no sign of decomposition. He stepped closer, and crouched near the corpse, inspecting the body with grim precision.
It wasn’t just the warmth that unnerved him; it was the way the man had been positioned. Clearly, this body hadn’t been embald yet, it was still a recent addition to this grueso place. He noticed the sa half-beast, half-human transformation that Chris’s father had undergone. This was the result of White’s twisted experints, the proof of the horrors he was carrying out behind closed doors.
Dave straightened, his eyes scanning the room more thoroughly now, his pulse quickening with every step. He moved toward a row of wardrobes, their tal doors cold and uninviting.
Slowly, he opened one, revealing more bodies, each one in varying stages of transformation. So had more pronounced beastly features, others still held a semblance of their human selves, but they all shared the sa tragic fate, gunshot wounds to the head and chest. The violence was almost chanical, as if White had no care for the lives he was destroying.
"Crap," Dave muttered, his voice rough with disbelief and disgust. "Just what kind of psycho are we dealing with here? This is a cri... a huge cri." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of anger and helplessness simring beneath the surface.
Eric stood in silence beside him, his eyes wide as he took in the horrific sight. Dave could feel the intensity of his shock, but there was sothing deeper in his own gaze, sothing that mirrored his own frustration.
"Using people as test subjects... treating them like animals..." Dave continued, his voice low but filled with contempt. "If they don’t work, he just kills them and throws them away like they’re nothing. If this isn’t a cruelness, I don’t know what else this is."
His words hung in the air, thick with the weight of what they had just witnessed. In that mont, the room seed to close in on them, the stench of death and betrayal so overpowering that it felt suffocating. Dave’s anger was palpable, his fists still clenched, his body tense with the urge to do sothing, anything, about what they’d just discovered.
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