The world reassembled itself in slow, sickening pulses.
I opened my eyes to the smell of salt and disinfectant. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside me. My wrists were strapped to a hospital bed with thick leather restraints.
A nurse stood by the window, her back to me. She hummed as she adjusted the IV drip, the tune familiar—the same lullaby Anya used to hum in the loops.
"Where am I?" My voice came out cracked, unused.
The nurse turned.
Golden eyes.
"Welcome back, Chen," Mu said, smiling.
---
THE FIRST LIE
The restraints weren't leather.
They were skin.
Living, pulsing strips of it, warm against my wrists. When I pulled, they tightened like muscle contracting.
Mu checked my vitals with practiced ease. "You gave us quite a scare. Three days unconscious after the... accident." She tapped the clipboard at the foot of my bed.
I craned my neck to see.
**Patient: Chen Li**
**Diagnosis: Dissociative fugue state**
**Treatment: Memory suppression (successful)**
A child's laughter floated in from the hallway.
Mu's smile widened. "Someone's excited to see you."
The door swung open.
Li bounded in, his sneakers squeaking on linoleum. He looked different—younger, maybe eight years old, his eyes bright and brown instead of gold. In his hands, he clutched a stuffed rabbit missing one ear.
"Dad!" He launched himself onto the bed, wrapping small arms around my neck. His breath smelled like bubblegum and something metallic. "You promised we'd go to the zoo today!"
Over his shoulder, Mu mouthed: *Play along.*
The heart monitor beeped faster.
---
THE SECOND LIE
The zoo was empty.
No staff. No visitors. Just endless rows of pristine cages, all vacant except one.
The lion exhibit held a single creature—a gaunt, mangy thing with patchy fur and too many joints in its legs. It paced relentlessly, its ribs protruding like a shipwreck beneath its skin.
Li pressed his face to the glass. "He's hungry."
Mu checked her watch. "Feeding time soon."
The lion stopped pacing.
It looked at me.
Its eyes were black.
*Fully* black.
And in their depths, something moved.
Li tugged my hand. "Can we see the snakes next?"
The lion's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
But the glass vibrated with a single word:
***"Run."***
---
THE THIRD LIE
The reptile house was worse.
Every terrarium held a version of me—some young, some old, all suspended in amber liquid. Their eyes followed us as we passed.
Li skipped ahead, counting aloud. "...seven, eight, nine!" He pointed to the last exhibit. "That one's my favorite."
The plaque read:
**SPECIMEN: HOMO SAPIENS ITERATIS**
**STATUS: TERMINATED**
Inside floated Anya.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her mouth formed my name.
Mu grabbed my elbow. "Don't upset him," she whispered, nodding to Li.
The boy stood with his palms pressed to the glass, his reflection merging with Anya's. His voice dropped to something low, guttural:
"Mommy's still sleeping."
The lights flickered.
When they steadied, the terrarium was empty.
Li smiled up at me, innocent again. "Ice cream now?"
---
THE FOURTH LIE
The hospital room hadn't changed.
I sat bolt upright, gasping—no restraints, no IV, just the steady beep of the heart monitor. Morning light streamed through the blinds.
A different nurse entered, her nametag reading *"A. Chen"*.
Anya.
Real Anya.
She checked my vitals without meeting my eyes. "You had another episode. The doctor says—"
I grabbed her wrist.
No tattoo.
No scars.
Just smooth skin and a wedding band I didn't recognize.
She finally looked at me, her eyes tired. "Li made you something."
From her pocket, she pulled a folded piece of construction paper. Inside was a child's drawing—a stick figure family in front of a house.
Mom.
Dad.
And between them, a smiling boy with golden eyes.
Scrawled at the bottom in shaky letters:
*"Welcome home."*
---
THE FIFTH LIE
The doorbell rang.
Anya left to answer it.
Li's voice carried down the hall: "Mom! The man at the door says he's here for Dad!"
I forced myself to stand, legs trembling. The mirror above the sink showed a face I barely recognized—older, wearier, with streaks of gray at my temples.
And my eyes.
My *golden* eyes.
The front door creaked open.
A familiar voice said: "Chen. It's time."
I stepped into the hallway.
The original Lu Chen stood in the doorway, his face gaunt, his eyes hollow. In his hands, he held a small velvet box.
Inside, nestled in black satin, was a single golden tooth.
Li peeked around Anya's legs, grinning.
His teeth were perfect.
His eyes were black.
*Fully* black.
And in their depths, something moved.
---
THE LAST LIE
The champagne tasted bitter.
I sat at the head of the dinner table, watching Anya slice the cake. Li clapped his hands, bouncing in his seat.
"Make a wish, Dad!"
Mu stood in the corner, her golden eyes gleaming.
The original Lu Chen raised his glass.
And from the basement, a sound began—
Soft at first.
Then louder.
The steady, rhythmic *thump* of something trying to get out.
Anya set a slice of cake in front of me.
The frosting swirled into letters:
*"Happy First Day."*
I looked down at my hands.
The scalpel was already there.
Waiting.
Li leaned close, his breath cold against my ear:
"Don't worry, Dad."
His small fingers closed over mine, guiding the blade toward the cake.
"We'll do it together this time."
The basement door burst open.
And the golden woman stepped into the light.
[END]