Chapter Three — Section I (Dialogue Form)
(Liliana's POV, Radiata safehouse, morning)
The safehouse smells like burnt toast. Kelvin's fault, obviously. I flop into a chair, boots kicked up on the table, arms behind my head. Gabriel's in his usual corner-of-doom, silent as ever, sipping coffee like it personally offended him. Kelvin pokes at the toaster with a butter knife, which is definitely not safe.
Me (Liliana): "Y'know, if we survive anomalies, cartels, and cosmic curses, but die because Kelvin electrocuted himself making breakfast, I'm haunting this place forever."
Kelvin:[without looking up] "Good morning to you too, Liliana."
Me: "Morning, sunshine. Or should I say, storm cloud number two?" [I tilt my head toward Gabriel] "Number one's already hogging the title."
Gabriel doesn't react. Not a twitch. Classic. I grin and lean forward.
Me: "Seriously, Gabriel, do you practice the whole 'brooding in silence' thing, or is it, like, a natural talent? Because if they gave out medals for Most Dramatic Staring Into Nothing, you'd sweep the Olympics."
Gabriel:[calm, clipped] "If you spoke less, you might hear more."
Me:[mock gasp] "Oh my god, he speaks! Someone mark the calendar, we got more than five words out of him before noon."
Kelvin chuckles, finally freeing the toast — charred black, of course. He tosses it on a plate and shrugs.
Kelvin: "Better than nothing."
Me: "Debatable." [I push the plate away dramatically] "I'd rather risk anomaly poisoning than that carbon slab."
Kelvin:[sits across from me, calm smile] "Eat it or don't. I'm not your chef."
Me:[mock serious] "Wrong. You're my emotional support cinnamon roll. And cinnamon rolls make proper breakfast."
Kelvin shakes his head, amused. Gabriel doesn't move, doesn't blink. Typical. I tap my fingers on the table, leaning forward, voice sharpening.
Me: "So. About Anastasha."
Finally, that gets a flicker from Gabriel. Not much, just the tiniest shift of his gaze. But I notice.
Kelvin:[gently] "Liliana—"
Me:[cutting him off] "No, don't 'Liliana' me. Someone has to say it. She's just a kid. She has a family. She doesn't need us swooping in like some cursed anime squad pulling her into our drama."
Gabriel:[quiet, deliberate] "Need is irrelevant. The bond is awake."
Me:[leaning forward, biting] "And whose fault is that?"
His eyes meet mine — sharp, unflinching. I feel the weight in them, but I don't look away. For a second, the silence between us feels louder than my words. Then Kelvin cuts in, voice steady, the mediator as always.
Kelvin: "We can't undo what's been done. The question now is how we help her through it."
I slump back in my chair, throwing my arms up.
Me: "Fine. But when she spirals — and she will — don't come crying to me saying you didn't see it coming. Because I'll say 'I told you so' while eating popcorn."
Gabriel doesn't answer. He never does when I expect him to. Kelvin sighs, picking at the toast, and I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for myself.
Me: "…She doesn't deserve this."
For a second, I swear Gabriel's hand tightens around his coffee cup. Just a fraction. Then the mask is back, smooth as ever. I lean back, staring at the ceiling, pretending not to notice. But I do. I always do.
(Liliana's POV, Radiata safehouse, late morning)
Gabriel sets his empty mug down, smooth and deliberate. Without a word, he crosses the room and disappears into the hallway, the weight of his silence trailing behind him. The air feels lighter the moment he's gone. I flop sideways in my chair, arms hanging off the edge.
Me (Liliana): "Well. That was fun. Ten out of ten family bonding time."
Kelvin doesn't laugh. He just sits there, hands folded, eyes on the door Gabriel vanished through. I watch him for a second, then sigh.
Me: "You're thinking too hard again."
Kelvin:[softly] "Somebody has to."
Me:[rolling my eyes, but gentler] "Yeah, yeah, Mister Responsibility. But admit it — he scares you too, sometimes."
Kelvin finally looks at me. His expression is calm, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. Something he won't say out loud. He shrugs instead.
Kelvin: "Gabriel carries more than anyone should. Fear isn't the word I'd use."
Me: "Okay, then what? Respect? Annoyance? The urge to throw something at his head every time he talks in riddles?"
Kelvin actually chuckles at that, shaking his head. But it fades quick. He leans forward, elbows on the table, his voice lower.
Kelvin: "He's not wrong about the bond. Anastasha's going to feel it stronger every day. And when she does… it's going to change everything for her."
I sit up straighter, suddenly restless. My sarcasm fizzles at the edges, replaced with something sharper. I bite my lip before blurting it out.
Me: "…What if it breaks her?"
Kelvin doesn't answer right away. He studies me, like he's measuring whether I actually want the truth. I drum my fingers on the table, impatient, until he finally speaks.
Kelvin: "Then we make sure she doesn't break alone."
That shouldn't hit as hard as it does, but it does. I look away, arms crossing tight over my chest.
Me: "You make it sound so simple."
Kelvin:[gently] "It has to be."
The silence stretches. I kick at the leg of the chair, chewing the inside of my cheek. Then I mutter, softer than I mean to:
Me: "…She doesn't deserve any of this."
Kelvin hears me. Of course he does. He always does. But he doesn't push. He just nods, quiet, steady — the way he always is. And for once, I don't feel like making a joke about it.
(Anastasha's POV, school afternoon)
The classroom is hot, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. My pen taps against the desk, over and over. Tap. Tap. Tap. The teacher's voice is just noise. Letters blur on the board. My head feels heavy, like it's stuffed with echoes.
Naomi:[hissing across her desk] "Anna. Quit it. You're driving me insane."
Me:[muttering] "It's not Anna."
Her eyes narrow. She leans closer, whispering sharp.
Naomi: "What did you just say?"
Me:[too fast] "Nothing. I didn't— I…"
But Jonas, two desks over, is already staring at me like I've grown horns.
Jonas: "Wait. Did you just say your name isn't Anna?"
The whole row turns to look at me. My stomach flips. The pen slips from my fingers and clatters to the floor. Heat crawls up my neck.
Me: "I— I didn't mean—"
Naomi:[whispering harshly] "What the hell, Anna? You're seriously scaring me."
The teacher clears his throat at the front of the room, irritation sharpening his voice.
Mr. Aboagye: "Miss Anastasha, if you're finished disrupting the class, perhaps you'd like to share with the rest of us what's more important than my lesson?"
Laughter ripples across the room. My chest tightens. Words tumble out before I can stop them.
Me: "I'm not— I'm not Anastasha."
The room freezes. Dead silence. Every pair of eyes drills into me. Naomi's jaw drops. The teacher blinks, stunned. My hands shake on the desk. The word slips out next, soft but clear:
Me: "…Iris."
Gasps scatter through the room like broken glass. Jonas whispers to the guy beside him. Naomi stares at me like I've just admitted murder.
Naomi:[harsh, panicked whisper] "Anna, stop it! What is wrong with you?"
My throat closes. I shove back my chair, scraping the floor, muttering as I grab my bag.
Me: "I need air. I just— I need—"
Mr. Aboagye steps forward, voice stern but uneasy.
Mr. Aboagye: "Anastasha. Sit down. Right now."
Me:[shaking my head] "I can't. I'm not—"
I bolt for the door before I can finish. The whispers rise behind me, sharp and accusing. My name — no, both names — chase me down the hall, tangled and heavy. Iris. Anastasha. Neither fits. Neither feels safe.
Anastasha's POV, school hallway, moments after fleeing class)
My shoes slam against the tile, every step too loud. My breath saws in my chest. The fluorescent lights blur overhead. I just need air. I just need—
Naomi:[calling from behind] "Anna! Wait!"
I don't. I can't. But she catches up anyway, grabbing my arm. I whirl on her, eyes stinging.
Me: "Don't—!"
Naomi:[glaring, but her voice cracks] "What the hell was that back there? You just stood up and told everyone you're not Anastasha! Do you have any idea how insane that sounded?"
Me:[snapping] "I didn't mean to! It just— it slipped out."
Naomi: "Slipped out? People's names don't just slip out! Iris? Who even is that?!"
Her grip on my arm is too tight. I yank free, voice rising.
Me: "I don't know, okay? I don't know who she is! I just… I hear her. I feel her. And it's like she's me but she's not, and I can't—"
The words choke off. Naomi stares at me like I've shattered into pieces she doesn't recognize.
Naomi:[softly, scared] "You sound crazy."
Me:[bitter laugh] "Yeah, well, maybe I am."
Naomi:[pleading now] "Anna—"
Me:[snapping] "Stop calling me that!"
The hallway goes silent. My voice echoes back at me, too loud, too sharp. Naomi recoils, eyes wide. The hurt on her face twists my stomach, but the words are already out. I clutch my bag to my chest, shaking.
Me:[quieter, breaking] "…Just stop."
Naomi swallows hard, blinking fast. For once, she doesn't have a comeback. She just whispers:
Naomi: "I don't know who you are anymore."
The words hit harder than I want to admit. I turn away, forcing my legs to move. My throat burns as I whisper to myself, so soft she can't hear:
Me: "…Neither do I."
(Radiata safehouse, Gabriel/Liliana/Kelvin)
The safehouse is quiet, but only for a second. Then Gabriel freezes mid-step, his head turning slightly like he's listening to something no one else can hear. The silence around him sharpens. Kelvin notices first.
Kelvin: "What is it?"
Gabriel doesn't answer immediately. His hand tightens at his side, jaw rigid. Then he exhales, low, almost like a confession.
Gabriel: "…She said my name."
Liliana, sprawled on the couch with her phone, sits bolt upright. Her eyes widen, then narrow fast.
Liliana: "You've gotta be kidding me. Already?!"
Gabriel doesn't respond. His silence is confirmation enough. Liliana throws her phone onto the cushions and jumps to her feet, pacing.
Liliana: "This is exactly what I warned about. You poke at the wound, and now she's bleeding all over the place. Do you have any idea what this means? She probably said it in front of people! Her family, her classmates—"
Gabriel:[calm, clipped] "They don't matter."
Liliana:[spins on him, furious] "Don't matter?! She lives with them. They're her anchors. And you just ripped them out of the ground without even blinking!"
Gabriel's eyes meet hers, steady, unflinching. His voice is lower, but heavy.
Gabriel: "Anchors don't hold forever. They never do."
Liliana stares at him like she wants to scream. Her fists clench. For a second, she looks like she might actually swing. Kelvin steps between them before she can.
Kelvin:[firm, steady] "Enough. This isn't helping."
Liliana huffs, storming toward the far wall, muttering under her breath. Gabriel stays still, gaze distant, lost in something only he can feel. Kelvin looks between them, his voice softer now.
Kelvin: "If she's saying your name, Gabriel… she's not just remembering. She's identifying. That's different. That's dangerous."
Gabriel finally speaks, almost whispering, like the words aren't meant to be heard but escape anyway.
Gabriel: "…It was always going to happen."
Liliana spins back around, eyes blazing.
Liliana: "Yeah? Maybe. But not like this. Not this soon. And that's on you."
The room hums with silence after her words. Gabriel doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His stillness says enough.
Anastasha's POV, school bathroom, minutes after the hallway fight)
The bathroom is empty. Echoes of distant chatter bleed through the tiled walls. I grip the sink, staring at my reflection. My eyes look wrong. Too wide. Too haunted. Like they belong to someone else.
Me:[whispering] "Who are you?"
The mirror doesn't answer. My lips tremble. I clutch the porcelain tighter, knuckles white.
Me: "You're Anastasha. You're Anastasha. You live here. You belong here."
The words crack. They sound hollow. Another voice seeps out, softer, traitorous.
Me: "…Iris."
I slam my eyes shut. The name echoes anyway. My own voice arguing with itself.
Me: "No. Not Iris. Not me."
Me (fainter, overlapping): "But you were."
My chest heaves. I press my forehead against the cool mirror, whispering like a prayer and a curse all at once.
Me: "…Gabriel."
The sound of it loosens something in me, terrifying and soothing at the same time. I shake my head, tears threatening.
Me: "Stop. Stop it. You're not real. You can't be real."
But deep down, I already know he is. And that's what scares me most.
Chapter Four — Section I (Dialogue Form)
(Naomi's POV, that evening, at home)
The house is too quiet. Too heavy. Miriam hums in the kitchen — that fake hum she does when she's worried. Daniel sits in his chair, pretending to read the newspaper, but his eyes haven't moved from the same spot in twenty minutes. Caleb is on the floor with his toy cars, not making engine noises like usual. Just lining them up, neat rows, over and over. I sit at the table, chewing my nails. Nobody says what we're all thinking. So I finally break it.
Me (Naomi): "She lost it today. At school."
Miriam stops humming. Daniel lowers the paper. Caleb doesn't look up, but his hand pauses mid-line with the toy car.
Daniel:[stern, heavy] "What do you mean?"
Me:[sharply] "She stood up in class and told everyone she's not Anastasha. Then she said some other name. Iris."
Miriam gasps softly, pressing a hand to her chest. Daniel's face darkens, his jaw locking tight. Caleb just sets the car down and whispers:
Caleb: "…I told you. She's scared."
My throat tightens. I snap back too quickly.
Me: "Scared doesn't make you forget your own name, Caleb."
Miriam:[gentle but trembling] "Naomi, don't—"
Me:[cutting her off, voice breaking] "No! Someone has to say it. She's slipping, Mom. I saw it in her eyes. It was like… like she wasn't even my sister anymore."
Silence. Miriam's eyes shine with tears. Daniel's hands clench around the newspaper until it crumples. My chest burns. The words keep spilling before I can stop them.
Me: "…What if she never comes back? What if Anna's just… gone?"
The sound of it cracks something in me. I slam my hands on the table, blinking hard, refusing to cry. Miriam rushes forward, kneeling beside me, her arms wrapping tight.
Miriam: "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. She's still our Anna."
Me:[whispering into her shoulder] "Then why doesn't it feel like it?"
Daniel looks away, his face like stone. Caleb finally speaks, soft but certain.
Caleb: "Because maybe she's more than Anna."
We all stare at him. He picks up another toy car, setting it in line, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Caleb: "And maybe that's what scares her most."
The room falls into silence again. This time, nobody knows how to break it.
(Naomi's POV, Anastasha's bedroom, that evening)
I stand outside her door, fist hovering over the wood. For a minute, I can't knock. I just hear her voice on the other side — soft, broken, muttering to herself. I force my hand to move.
Knock. Knock.
Me (Naomi): "Anna? …It's me."
No answer. Just silence, then the faint creak of bedsprings. I push the door open a crack. She's sitting on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, face half-hidden in shadow. The lamp glows dim. Her eyes flick toward me, then away. My stomach knots.
Me: "Can I come in?"
Anastasha:[barely audible] "…It's your house too."
I step in, closing the door behind me. The room feels colder than it should. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms tight.
Me: "You scared the crap out of me today."
She doesn't look up. Just hugs her knees tighter. My voice cracks before I can stop it.
Me: "Do you even get how that felt? Watching you stand up in front of everyone and… and say you're not you?"
Anastasha:[whispering] "…I'm sorry."
Me:[snapping] "Don't say sorry! Just explain it. Please. Who's Iris? Why do you keep saying that name?"
She finally looks at me. Her eyes are wet, haunted, older than they should be. It makes my chest ache.
Anastasha: "…I don't know. I just… I feel her. Like she's me, but not me. Like she's trying to crawl out of my skin."
I shake my head, fighting tears, my voice sharp but trembling.
Me: "That's insane, Anna."
Anastasha:[flinching] "Stop calling me that."
The words cut. I bite my lip, blinking hard. My voice comes out softer, smaller.
Me: "…If you're not Anna… then who are you?"
Her face crumples. She buries it against her knees, whispering so faint I almost don't hear it.
Anastasha: "…I don't know anymore."
(Naomi's POV, outside Anastasha's room, same evening)
The door shuts behind me with a soft click. I lean against the hallway wall, arms wrapped tight around myself. My chest feels like it's collapsing. Miriam's voice floats up from downstairs, calling for dinner, but I can't move. My throat burns. I whisper to the empty hall, words spilling fast and uneven.
Me (Naomi): "…What's happening to you, Anna? Why are you slipping away from me?"
I squeeze my eyes shut. The memory of her face — pale, broken, whispering she didn't know who she was — flashes like a knife. My fists clench.
Me: "You're my sister. You're supposed to tease me, fight with me, steal my clothes, not—" [my voice cracks] "—not look at me like you don't even know me."
My breath comes shaky. I dig my nails into my palms until it hurts, just to ground myself. The tears come anyway, slipping hot down my cheeks. My voice drops to a whisper.
Me: "…I don't care if you call yourself Iris or Anna or whatever. I just want my sister back."
The words echo in the hall, unanswered. My chest aches with how small they sound. Miriam calls again from downstairs, but I don't move. I just press my forehead against the wall, whispering one last time, softer than breath.
Me: "…Please don't leave me."
(Anastasha's POV, in her room, after Naomi leaves)
The silence after Naomi's footsteps fade is louder than her shouting ever was. I curl on the bed, arms wrapped around my knees, staring at the wall. The lamp hums faintly. My throat burns. My head won't stop spinning. I start whispering to myself, because the silence is worse than the sound of my own voice.
Me:[low, shaky] "You're Anastasha. You're Anastasha. You've lived here sixteen years. You're Miriam and Daniel's daughter. You're Naomi's sister. Caleb's sister. That's who you are."
The words feel like I'm reading off a script. Flat. Hollow. My chest tightens as I push harder, louder.
Me: "You are Anastasha. You belong here. This is your life."
The lamp flickers once, faintly. My stomach knots. I bury my face in my knees, whispering again, softer, like maybe if I shrink the words they'll feel truer.
Me: "…But then why does it feel like I'm lying?"
The silence answers me. Then another voice slips in — mine, but not mine. Softer. Older. Familiar. Iris.
Me (Iris's echo): "Because you remember."
I snap my head up, heart pounding.
Me: "No. No, I don't. I don't remember anything. I'm not you."
Me (Iris's echo):[gentle, insistent] "You are. You've just forgotten the edges."
I slam my hands over my ears, rocking on the bed.
Me: "Stop it! Stop talking like that! You're not real. You're not me."
But even as I say it, the memories creep at the edges — flashes of a hand in mine, laughter in a field, a voice whispering Iris. My own breath shudders out as tears slip hot down my face. I whisper again, broken.
Me: "Why me? Why now? I didn't ask for this."
The echo doesn't answer this time. Instead, another voice rises in my head. Not mine. Not Iris's. His.
Gabriel's voice (in her head, low, steady):"You were always going to remember."
I freeze, every muscle locking. My throat closes around his name. I whisper it, terrified and needing it in equal measure.
Me: "…Gabriel."
The name leaves me like a confession, like an anchor and a chain at the same time. My chest heaves. My reflection in the dark window looks wrong — eyes too wide, too haunted, not mine anymore. I keep whispering his name, over and over, like maybe if I say it enough I'll understand why it feels like both poison and salvation.
Me: "Gabriel. Gabriel… Gabriel…"
The lamp flickers again, stronger this time. My hands tremble. I press them to my mouth, whispering through my fingers.
Me: "…If you're real… if you're really out there… don't come back."
The tears choke me. My voice cracks. The next words come out even quieter, traitorous.
Me: "…But please… come back."
The silence swallows me whole. I rock on the bed, whispering until the words blur, until my voice is gone. The last thing I remember before the darkness takes me is the sound of his name in my own voice, circling like a prayer I can't stop saying.