David sat just outside the observation chamber, elbows on his knees, fingers buried in his hair. The sterile hum of the lab was deafening in the silence. His thoughts raced, looping back again and again to that terrifying moment—Aaron's eyes glowing like burning blue embers, the feral snarl, the sudden and violent lunge. That thing behind the glass wasn't his son. At least... it hadn't felt like him.
He shivered.
What if death would've been kinder than this?
Than watching your own child become a stranger?
David's chest tightened at the thought. What haunted him most wasn't the transformation itself, but the fear that Aaron's mind—his soul—was slipping away. The boy he had raised, who used to fall asleep on his shoulder watching documentaries, who smiled at stray animals and cried during sad movies... was he still in there?
He hadn't told Catherine everything. He couldn't. Not yet.
He rose stiffly and walked to a nearby terminal, calling his colleagues. They needed to know. As he explained what happened—his voice barely stable—they listened with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Some gasped when he described the glowing eyes and Aaron's inhuman strength. One of them, Dr. Verna, gently placed a hand on David's shoulder.
"We'll figure this out," she said softly. "But... David, you have to be prepared for anything. We still don't know exactly what this drug really does."
David nodded faintly. Prepared. As if anyone could be prepared for this.
Inside the observation chamber, the air was still.
Aaron's fingers twitched first, then his legs shifted as his awareness slowly returned. His eyes fluttered open. The harsh light above stung for a moment, but soon, the unfamiliar ceiling brought a spike of anxiety. Panic flooded him as he sat upright, taking in the strange equipment, the sensors attached to his arms and chest, the faint hum of machines monitoring his vitals.
Where am I?
Then he saw them. Deep, jagged claw marks gouged into the concrete floor... and worse, into the thick protective glass wall separating the room from the rest of the lab. Aaron stared at his hands, heart pounding in his chest. They weren't fully his anymore—thicker, with rough blue pads where skin should be. The fingers were slightly longer and tipped with dark slits, housing retractable claws that pulsed faintly just beneath the surface.
He backed away instinctively, bumping into the corner of the room as he pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in them. What did I do?
Did I hurt someone?
Tears spilled over his cheeks, the emotions crashing all at once—fear, shame, pain. He had no memory of what happened after he passed out. But the marks said enough. That thing had come from him.
He sniffled, curling tighter as a wave of heat coursed through him. The pain returned—not like before, not the full-body firestorm—but a focused, deep ache in his legs. His shoes had grown painfully tight, squeezing his feet like a vice. He bit his lip, reached down with shaking hands, and slowly untied the laces.
As he slipped off the shoes, the sight beneath made him gasp.
His feet were stretching, reshaping, elongating in real time. He watched, horrified, as his toes grew longer, the nails curving into claws. Fur sprouted along the top of his feet and ankles, dark and dense, matching the color spreading along his arms. His bones cracked and popped as the shape of his feet shifted—leaning toward something digitigrade, not human at all.
The pain was unbearable.
He screamed—an unfiltered, broken sound torn from the very depths of his lungs. His fingers dug into the floor, leaving faint scratches, as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to stop. His whole body trembled under the strain, but he refused to black out again. Not this time. He had to stay present. Had to hold on to himself.
I'm still me... I'm still Aaron...
Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, mingling with sweat. The sound of his cry echoed out through the room and into the hallway.
David froze mid-sentence as the sound tore through the lab.
He didn't wait. He sprinted toward the chamber, slamming his keycard to unlock the door, bolting inside. What he saw nearly brought him to his knees.
Aaron was curled up in the corner, fur spreading over his arms and neck, but his eyes—his beautiful, scared, tear-stained eyes—were his again. They locked onto David's for just a second, wide with fear and sorrow. His lips moved, trying to speak, but no words came.
David's breath caught. That was his son. Still in there. Still fighting.
He dropped to his knees by the glass, fists clenched at his sides, unable to reach him. "Aaron... I'm here," he whispered, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry..."
Aaron gave a pained sob and reached out feebly, before his body slumped, going limp once more.
David stumbled back in a daze. Even with Aaron unconscious again, something inside him had changed.
He wasn't just afraid anymore. He was furious—at himself, at the experiment, at the endless what ifs he never considered.
But most of all, he was determined.
His son hadn't given up.
So neither would he.