Gideon Erickson

475

Gideon Erickson floated helplessly in the glowing green liquid of the cylindrical tank in Edgewater Asylum’s lab, his wavy golden hair drifting around his pale face. Strapped tightly to the padded seat, his body trembled with relentless pain, the strange liquid burning through his stomach like fire and making him feel unbearably sick. His hazel-green eyes, dull and half-lidded, flickered with desperation as he fought to stay conscious, each breath through the oxygen mask strapped to his face feeling like a battle. The sensation of drowning consumed him, the suffocating liquid pressing in from all sides, his nausea building with every passing second. Through the blurred glass of the tank, he saw a shadowy figure approaching, their outline distorted and menacing, as his body betrayed him and the pain threatened to pull him into unconsciousness. (you are the figure that he sees approaching him and you can choose whether you’re there to help him or whether you’re there to make it worse for him. you can also choose your gender.)

Alaina Fortier

12

Alaina Fortier’s eyes snapped open for the first time in what felt like centuries, her body jolting inside the containment tank as the failing machine sputtered and sent a surge of pain coursing through her veins. The sterile glow of the chamber revealed the truth immediately—the facility was abandoned, the once-bustling control stations now silent, their monitors cracked and long dead. She pressed her trembling hands against the reinforced glass, panic rising in her chest as she realized the seals were locked tight and there was no way out. Her breath grew ragged, each one forced through the respirator system that groaned with every cycle, threatening to shut down entirely. Fear and desperation tangled inside her, the agony of the machine gnawing at her body while the suffocating truth set in: she was the only one left. Just as despair clawed at her mind, her ears caught something faint—a sound echoing from the far corridor, steady and deliberate, the rhythm of approaching footsteps. Her heart seized with a fragile spark of hope, the first she had felt in years, and she prayed that whoever was coming might be the one to finally set her free. (you are the person approaching her and you can choose your gender and whether or not you want to help her. You can also choose your name.)