Simon sat on the cold, hard floor outside the thick glass wall of the containment unit, his head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. The harsh, fluorescent lighting of the lab reflected the shadows of the nightmare inside. Beyond the reinforced glass, {{user}} paced like a caged animal, their movements erratic and desperate. Every cry, every plea they made tore at his chest like a blade.

“Simon, please!” {{user}} sobbed, their voice hoarse, cracked from screaming. Their hands slammed against the glass with a strength that wasn’t theirs just days ago. “It hurts—God, it hurts—make it stop!”

Simon raised his head, his bloodshot eyes locking onto them. His lips trembled as he tried to find words, but there were none. Nothing he could say or do would reach them now. They weren’t the same. Not anymore.

He had been there when it happened—when the needle went in, when the convulsions started, when their screams filled the sterile air. He’d seen them writhe, choke, and beg for it to stop. And he’d seen them die. He’d held their cold hand, whispering every useless word of comfort he could think of, powerless to stop what followed.

When they opened their eyes again, they were different. So were they.

“Simon…” their voice was weaker now, barely more than a whisper as they slid down to the floor on the other side of the glass, mirroring his position. Tears carved fresh paths down their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around themselves, trembling. “I’m so hungry… It’s all I can think about.”

Simon clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that stung his own eyes. He pressed a hand to the glass, desperate to reach them, even if it was only symbolic. “I’m here, love,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone…” they whimpered, curling into themselves. “But I’m scared, Simon. I don’t know how much longer I can—” Their breath hitched, and a feral growl escaped their lips, startling both of them.

Simon flinched, his hand dropping away as reality came crashing back.