Page 122 of Wicked Little Nightmare

We continued our silent trek through the woods.Was I still that scared kid on the treadmill, or had I become the monster holding the stopwatch?

Kyle must've noticed my thousand-yard stare, 'cause he stopped dead in his tracks. I almost ran into him, my mind still a million miles away.

"You good, Cam?" he asked, his voice low and careful. His hand came up, almost as if to rest on my shoulder before he shook his head and let it fall to his side.

I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. The forest around us was quiet, peaceful even. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves, birds chirping around us, oblivious to my plight, as if I wasn’t about to go on a homicidal rampage. It was about as far from those sterile labs as you could get and yet I was trapped there. In that plexiglass box, watching the girl do her puzzles or being forced to shit in a bucket.

"Yeah," I lied, flashing him my most charming grin. "Just listening for the damn deer."

Kyle nodded, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He opened his mouth, probably to call me on my bullshit, but then thought better of it.

"You know," he said instead, his tone casual but his words like precision-guided missiles, "they had this one test. Made the kids prove their loyalty."

My grip on the rifle tightened, knuckles going white. I knew where this was going, but I couldn't stop him. Couldn't stop the flood of pain that his words unleashed.

"They'd pair 'em up," Kyle continued, oblivious to the war raging in my head. Or maybe he knew, and he was testing me. "Best friends, usually. Then they'd give one of them a choice: kill your friend, or we kill you both."

And just like that, I was back there. Fourteen years old, staring into the terrified eyes of my best friend, Tommy. Patient D, asthey referred to him as.God, I hadn’t even remembered Tommy until now.I felt sick thinking back to his gangly limbs and the smile he always offered after we had been broken and bruised.How many times had he protected me? Giving me his rations to keep me strong.

The scientist was laughing, pressing something into my hands as Tommy stood in front of me. Looking down, I could see the knife, gripped tightly in my palm. Feel the cold weight of it. Touch the sharp end of the blade. The even colder voice of the instructor: "Prove your loyalty, Cameron. Kill him, or you both die."

I could still hear Tommy's voice, shaking but brave: "It's okay, Cam. Do it. Better one of us makes it out than neither."

The sound of his screaming echoed in my ears, as real as if I'd just stabbed him in the neck. My eyes closed and I saw it all. One minute he was standing there, offering me his life, the next he was laying face up, his eyes staring at the ceiling, a neat line across his neck as his life spilled onto the cold, white floor underneath him. Someone was patting me on the back, but I felt nothing.

Nothing but numbness.

The memory slammed into me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I stumbled, my legs suddenly rubber beneath me. The forest floor tilted and swayed, leaves blurring into a nauseating swirl of autumn colors.

"Fuck," I gasped, reaching out to steady myself against a nearby tree. The rough bark bit into my palm, anchoring me to reality even as the past threatened to drag me under. I fought hard not to vomit.

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face me with those calculating eyes of his. He didn't say a word, just watched me with that infuriatingly knowing look. Like he could seeright through my carefully constructed walls to the broken kid underneath.

I wanted to wipe that look off his face. Wanted to lash out, to make him hurt like I was hurting. But the words wouldn't come. All I could do was stand there, chest heaving, as the memories of Tommy's final moments played on a loop in my head.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Kyle didn't push, didn't pry. Just waited, patient as a spider in its web. And wasn't that a fitting image? Both of us predators, circling each other, waiting for the other to show weakness. I cracked first and I fucking hated myself for it.

"I'm fine," I finally managed to growl, straightening up and forcing my features into a mask of indifference. "Let's keep moving."

But even as I said it, Kyle wasn't buying it. Hell, I wasn't buying it. The past had sunk its claws into me, and it wasn't letting go anytime soon.

I took a deep breath, letting the crisp forest air fill my lungs. The scent of pine and damp earth grounded me, pulling me back from the edge of that dark abyss. I focused on the world around me — the rustle of leaves underfoot, the distant call of a hawk, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

"Nature's a real bitch-slap to the senses, ain't it?" I quipped, forcing a smirk. "Makes you remember you're alive, even when your head's trying to convince you otherwise."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "That's one way to put it," he replied dryly.

We resumed our silent trek, rifles at the ready. My mind was a fucking warzone, memories of sterile labs and blood-soaked training rooms battling with the peaceful forest around me. But I'd be damned if I let Kyle see how much it was affecting me.

I shouldn’t be holding a gun. How easy would it be to just… pull the trigger? To feed the bloodlust that had been forced into me.

"You know," I said, keeping my voice low and steady, "I used to think places like this were boring as shit. All trees and quiet. Now? It's like a goddamn oasis."

Kyle grunted in agreement. "Amazing how perspective changes when you've seen the worst humanity has to offer."

I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at that. "Ain't that the fucking truth."

As we moved deeper into the woods, I forced myself to focus on tracking. The steady rhythm of our footsteps, the weight of the rifle in my hands, the constant scan for movement — it all helped push the memories back, at least for now. This was real. This was now. And right now, I had a job to do.

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