Adrian's chest heaved. His heart pounded like a drumbeat inside his skull, as if his body already knew what was coming.
"No—no, no!" he shouted, twisting violently in his restraints.
The gunmen weren't fazed. One of them raised his weapon—just a flinch—and something inside Adrian snapped.
CRACK—BOOM!
The lightbulbs above burst in a flash of red, casting strobe-like shadows across the living room. Red energy surged around Adrian's body like an unstable magnetic field.
Then — with a flash — one of the attackers slammed into the far wall, lifted off his feet as if by an invisible hammer. Drywall shattered under the weight.
His finger twitched instinctively — just one flick.
The zip ties around his wrists and his parents' snapped apart, sliced cleanly by an invisible force.
Freedom. But only for a second.
BANG.
A single shot.
The sound cracked the air like the end of the world.
Adrian turned. His brain refused to process it.
His mother lay sprawled on the carpet, unmoving.
Blood pooled from her head, pouring from a single wound — a hole through her eye.
His legs gave out. He dropped to his knees.
"No... no no no no NO—"
His father stared blankly, stunned.
Adrian's stomach flipped. His breath caught in his throat. The world tilted sideways.
Did that just happen?
His head swam. Every thought crashed into another. Rage, confusion, panic, and guilt all fought for dominance in his skull.
The world blurred. Tears welled in his eyes. His blood felt like fire.
But something else — instinct — pulled his attention back.
Where did he go?
The man who pulled the trigger was missing.
Before he could react—WHAM!
Adrian was tackled sideways, slammed hard against the living room wall. His shoulder burned. Cold steel pressed against his throat.
"Don't fucking move!" the attacker hissed, voice shaking. "I'll kill the kid!"
Adrian's father was frozen in place, eyes locked on his son, breathing shallow.
Then, something caught Adrian's eye. Behind the attacker…
Something stirred in the room.
A thin, thread-like shape emerged slowly from the bullet hole. Not flesh, not blood, not muscle—but something alien. It resembled a spider—but not one of this world. Its legs were too long, too jointed, moving in unnatural, fluid patterns. The entire body shimmered with an oily texture.
The attacker followed Adrian's gaze, eyes widening in horror. "Fuck—!" He opened fire, pumping bullets into the corpse of Adrian's mother and the crawling thing as if that would make it go away.
The pressure at Adrian's throat vanished as the man staggered back, now shrieking in agony. He dropped to his knees, clutching his skull, blood leaking from his nose and ears. The parasite-creature glowed brighter, the light pulsing faster. It crept closer to the screaming man with movements both deliberate and eerie—like it wasn't walking but weaving itself forward.
Adrian watched, paralyzed — not by the creature, but by terror. Real terror. Not fear of death — fear of truth.
"What is that thing?" he whispered.
No one answered.
His thoughts were a blur: Was that in my mom this whole time? What is it? Is that what I am?
He looked at his hands — still trembling, still stained with green light at the tips of his fingers, red light smoldering around his palms.
I did something. I started all this.
The man was on the floor now, howling in agony as the creature's tendrils hovered just above him.
Adrian's father finally spoke, voice hoarse and broken.
"Adrian… don't watch this."