Mira's new understanding of Link – not as a lovesick admirer or a vengeful enemy, but as a cold, calculating analyst – offered a terrifying, yet strangely empowering, shift in perspective. If she was a subject, then she could try to understand the experiment. She began to observe her own reactions, to consciously not react in ways she thought he might expect. It was a futile gesture, she knew, but it gave her a shred of control.
She still rarely left her flat, but when she did, she changed her routes, varied her timings, and used cash instead of cards. She stopped checking her phone, treating it as a contaminated object. The silence that had once felt oppressive now felt like a shield.
Then, the packages began to arrive. Small, discreet, unmarked brown boxes, delivered to her doorstep by different couriers at seemingly random times. Each box contained a single item.
The first was a perfectly preserved, petrified piece of amber, trapping a tiny, ancient insect within its golden depths. It was beautiful, fascinating, and utterly unnerving. It felt like a metaphor for her own trapped existence.
The second was a complex puzzle box, made of polished dark wood, its intricate mechanisms hinting at a hidden compartment. She didn't dare try to open it. It felt like an invitation, a challenge, another test in his elaborate experiment.
The third, which arrived two days later, made her stomach churn. It was a small, high-quality audio recorder, the kind used for field research or covert surveillance. It wasn't turned on, but the implication was clear: he wanted to hear her. He wanted to record her. Or perhaps, he already had.
Each package intensified the feeling of being a specimen under a microscope. He wasn't just observing her; he was actively provoking responses, providing stimuli. He was pushing her, seeing how she would react to different pressures.
Brenda called, increasingly worried. "Are you coming back to work, Mira? We're missing you." Mira mumbled an excuse, unable to explain that her life had become a terrifying, involuntary research project.
Marley became her shadow, his presence a constant comfort. He would occasionally growl at the door, or stare intently at the window, confirming Mira's unspoken fear that Link was still there, outside, watching the experiment unfold.
The chilling question now was: what was the ultimate goal of his analysis? What conclusion was he trying to reach about her? And what would happen to the subject once the experiment was complete? The answer, Mira knew with a sickening certainty, would not be pleasant.