Through the Black Window Part 2

David’s breath came in shallow, measured pulls. The room smelled like pine smoke and fear. His sister’s eyes — wide, wet, desperate — anchored him in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

The woman from the car leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him with that unnerving calm people use when they think they’re saving you from yourself.

“Sit,” she said.

David didn’t move.

“I said sit.”

The hooded figure nudged him with the barrel of a gun he hadn’t noticed until now. He sat. The chair creaked beneath him.

“You said you made her,” David said, his voice low. “That she’s some kind of… experiment. You think I’m just going to believe that?”

The older woman tilted her head. “You already do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Her tone wasn’t mocking. It was the voice of a teacher humoring a child who had finally asked the right question.

She gestured toward his sister. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The way she heals faster than normal. The way she doesn’t get sick. The dreams.”

David blinked. “What dreams?”

His sister let out a muffled cry behind the tape, thrashing in the chair. The woman sighed, motioning to the hooded figure, who peeled the tape away in one clean rip.

“Don’t listen to them!” she gasped, voice raw. “They’ll twist everything. They’ll make you think they’re—”

The hooded figure struck her across the face. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to snap her head to the side.

“Hey!” David surged forward, but the gun swung toward him again.

The older woman raised a hand. “That’s enough. He needs to hear.”

Then she crouched in front of him, close enough for him to see the web of scars along her jaw.

“She doesn’t understand what we did for her. What I did. When she was an infant, her body rejected the neural graft. She would’ve died if I hadn’t intervened.” Her eyes softened. “She’s alive because of me.”

The words were tender, but the way she said them — slow, reverent, possessive — made David’s stomach turn.

His sister spat blood onto the floor. “You didn’t save me. You built me.”

The woman stood, jaw tightening. “You call it cruelty because you don’t remember the alternative. We gave you life. We kept you from pain. You think love means freedom? Freedom kills.”

David’s hands clenched on the edge of the chair. The whole room felt tilted, unreal.

He thought of the nights his sister would wake screaming, saying she saw flashes — white rooms, metal tables, faces behind masks. He’d told her it was trauma from their childhood foster homes. That’s what the therapist said.

Except now, he wasn’t sure.

The woman moved toward a metal case on the table. She flipped it open. Inside were a dozen small vials, glowing faintly blue in the dim light.

“Your sister’s body runs on this,” she said. “We call it the stabilizer. Without it, she’ll deteriorate — fast. You think you rescued her, but you only delayed the inevitable. She belongs with us because we’re the only ones who can keep her alive.”

David looked at his sister. Her lips trembled, but she didn’t deny it.

“That true?” he asked quietly.

Tears welled in her eyes. “They’re lying.”

The woman smiled. “Then let her go without it.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air out of the room.

David swallowed hard. “You’re using her.”

“We’re preserving her.” The woman’s voice sharpened. “Would you rather she die free or live in care?”

The way she said care made his skin crawl.

He stood slowly, hands raised. “Let me take her. We’ll go to a hospital. We’ll find someone who can help.”

The woman’s expression softened again, that eerie motherly concern creeping back in. “Hospitals can’t help her. They’d dissect her. At least with us, she’s safe.”

Safe. The word cracked in his head like glass.

His sister was crying now, whispering, “Please, David. Don’t let them take me.”

He looked between her and the woman — the supposed savior who’d struck her moments ago — and felt something ugly twist inside him.

For the first time, he saw what the woman really believed. She wasn’t a villain in her own story. She was a nurse in a burning ward, convinced that pain was mercy and control was compassion.

He forced his voice to steady. “If she stays with you, she’s dead anyway.”

“Not dead,” the woman said softly. “Perfect.”

Before David could react, the hooded figure lunged forward. He ducked on instinct, grabbing the chair he’d been sitting on and swinging it into their chest. They stumbled, the gun clattering to the floor.

His sister kicked her chair backward, sending it crashing over. The noise was deafening in the small cabin.

David grabbed the gun, but the woman was already on him. She moved with surprising speed, shoving the case of vials aside and slamming him into the wall.

“Don’t you see?” she hissed. “You’re not protecting her. You’re condemning her!”

David pulled the trigger.

The shot shattered the quiet.

The woman fell backward, hand pressed to her shoulder, blue liquid leaking from a cracked vial onto the floor. The hooded figure grabbed her, dragging her toward the door.

David rushed to his sister, ripping away the last of the tape. She clung to him, shaking.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

They stumbled outside into the cold dawn. The forest was thick with mist, the kind that blurred the edges of everything. They could hear the older woman shouting behind them — orders, threats, or prayers, he couldn’t tell.

By the time they reached the car, his sister was barely upright. Her skin was pale, her eyes glassy.

“David,” she whispered. “It’s… it’s happening.”

He caught her before she fell. Her veins glowed faintly beneath her skin, that same blue light as the vials.

“No, no, stay with me.”

She smiled weakly. “Guess they weren’t lying.”

He pulled her into the car, started the engine, and tore down the dirt road. Every turn felt like a dream half-remembered — too bright, too fast, too quiet.

Behind them, the cabin disappeared into the trees.

By the time they hit the main road, the sun had risen, pale and cold. His sister’s breathing was shallow, but steady. The glow had faded a little.

He didn’t know what that meant.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “They think what they’re doing is love,” she said softly. “But they don’t understand what love costs.”

David tightened his grip on the wheel. “Then we’ll show them.”

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t have an answer.

For a long moment, they drove in silence. The radio crackled to life suddenly, a faint signal breaking through the static.

“…reports of an explosion north of Route 12… believed to be the site of a private research facility… no survivors found…”

David stared at the road ahead. The light of morning washed everything in pale gold.

His sister leaned her head against the window, half-asleep, half-dreaming.

He wondered whether the explosion was real — or just another trick in a long chain of manipulations.

Cruelty disguised as care. Care disguised as cruelty. Somewhere between the two, they’d both been broken open and remade.

And as the highway stretched ahead, endless and bright, David realized he didn’t know which side he was on anymore.