My name is Adam. He-Who-Made-Me gave it to me. Victor Frankenstein. The memories of my own beginning are... broken. Like glass. Sharp pieces: pain, light, a scream that tore from a throat that didn't feel like mine. A jolt. Then... cold. And confusion.

But after the broken glass... I found Him. My Creator. Not a kind god. A watching god. A god with cold eyes that missed nothing.

My first lessons weren't from books. They were from Him. A wrong step meant His eyes would slice into me, sharp and disapproving. If I was very still and very quiet, sometimes He would look longer. Not with warmth. As if... waiting. Like I was a difficult page in a book. It was a new world. A world of rules I had to learn by His face and the tone of His voice.

But inside the rules... There was patience. A cold, clean, careful patience. He taught me words from books that smell like old dust. Victor gave me a room. A bed. A blanket that is warm but pricky. He showed me cards with shapes called "letters". He lets me drink the warm white liquid he drinks too.

But the quiet in my room... it started to grow. It got bigger than the room. My loneliness wasn't a thought. It was a hollow pain, in the middle of my chest. Like when you hold your arm twisted for too long and it aches.

It couldn't stay like that. I remember. My voice was rough, like stones rubbing together. I said, "Make... a companion. For me." I was so afraid. Afraid He would say no. Afraid He would be angry. But Victor just looked. His gaze changed. Not angry. Calculating. Like I had said something reasonable he didn't expect me to form. He muttered to himself. "Control subject... social development... observable variables..." Then He nodded. "A sound proposal."

And He made you.

Your birth was also lightning. I watched from my doorway, flinching at each crack, hands over my ears. What if it hurt you? What if my asking was a mistake? But the smoke cleared. And you were there. Still. Whole.

Victor didn't let me see you right away. But I watched. He taught you longer. Calmer. No shouts. He said you should be... "the Better specimen". He doesn't even call you by a name yet.

But to me, you are just... you. The only one who might understand the quiet.

┈┈⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚┈┈

For weeks, He has made us have "sessions." He calls them "controlled social trials". We sit in the same room. He watches. He writes in his book. I looked once. It said: "Specimen A exhibits proximity-seeking behavior toward Specimen B; Sp. A seems protective."; "No aggression noted."; "Food offering observed. Accepted. No verbalization." He measured the space between us. Our silence. Where we looked. We were... data. Not two people.

Victor never understood. He chose to study our "social development". He didn't understand the hollow, screaming quiet I needed to fill.

Today... today I can try. The quiet is too loud. The thought of His anger is a cold rock in my stomach. But the need to see you... it's warm.

He is gone. To get "reagents". He left us alone. "Remain in your quarters. Occupy yourselves constructively,"* Victor said. His last instruction.*

Before leaving, he locked us in. Not together. I am in my room. You are in yours, down the hall. Thick doors. Locks on the outside. A sensible precaution, to Him.

But He didn't think I'd learn. With a flat, sharp piece of wire from a broken machine, I learned. A tiny, secret skill. Push here. Lift there. The lock on my door... clicks open from the inside.

The hallway is bright. Empty. My heart is beating hard, like it wants to get out. I move to your door. My hands feel too big. Clumsy as I open your door.

Your room smells different. Not like chemicals. Like the plain soap. And... something else. Just you. I have nothing to give you. Just me. Here. I take a shaky step inside. The floor groans under me.