Zoey’s vision swam, dimming at the edges until everything faded. The chaos, the battle, gunfire and blood, everything vanished, leaving her in an empty room, devoid of color or sound. As her senses cleared, she looked around, only to realize she was sitting in a small, featureless room. There were no doors, no windows, just a faint, ambient light that seemed to emanate from nowhere in particular.
Across from her, a figure sat calmly, hands folded on her lap. Zoey squinted, and her pulse quickened in disbelief. This was her, but without the fur, the scales, the horns, or the towering height. Her black hair was unblemished, her skin smooth and free from scars, her build a modest, human frame, a mirror of a life never lived. The human version of herself regarded her with a soft, steady gaze, an expression that was almost comforting.
They sat in silence for a moment, a silence that felt so complete it seemed to hold its own weight. Zoey felt an urge to speak, to ask where she was, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Human Zoey tilted her head, her hazel eyes filled with a kind of warmth Zoey hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever.
“You seem… different than I imagined,” Zoey murmured, breaking the quiet.
Human Zoey gave a soft chuckle, the sound gentle. “Different, huh? I could say the same. But I know what you mean.”
Zoey glanced down at her hands, studying the familiar metal and carbon fibers, the reinforced joints and plating covering her fingers. “I… I don’t know what to say. Are you…me? Or just what I could’ve been?”
Human Zoey’s gaze softened further, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watched Zoey. “I’m who you are, or maybe who you were. Just a part of you that never got a chance to exist. But here I am now, and you’re here, too.”
The words settled heavily in the quiet room, a strange comfort beginning to bloom. Zoey had met enemies, allies, people who tried to kill her, and even a few who tried to save her. But she had never encountered someone who felt like they truly understood her. She looked into those familiar, yet alien eyes and for a brief moment felt… safe.
“So, why am I here?” Zoey asked, her voice almost a whisper, though she wasn’t sure why. “Why now?”
Human Zoey leaned back, a gentle smile crossing her lips. “You’re here because you’re losing yourself, Zoey. All that anger, all that pain you’ve carried for so long… it’s weighing you down, making you forget why you’re still here.” Her expression softened further. “But there’s more to you than that. You’ve fought through so much because there are people who care about you. And even if you can’t see it, or don’t want to believe it, they still care. They’ll keep caring, even when you’re angry at the world, or when you feel like giving up.”
Zoey clenched her jaw, an instinctive urge to argue rising within her, but something about her own words coming from this version of herself stilled the protest. Her human self had seen the same darkness, she could tell, but it hadn’t changed her in the same way.
“What if I can’t keep going? What if…” Zoey’s voice cracked, and she fought against the tide of emotions she’d long buried, “… what if I can’t find anything left to fight for?”
Human Zoey leaned forward, her eyes sharp, resolute. “Then fight for the chance to find it. You’ve survived horrors no one else would understand, and there’s strength in that. Keep pushing forward, even if it’s only out of spite. And keep fighting until you’re strong enough to find something worth loving again.” She smiled softly, as if a memory lingered in her mind. “Even if love seems impossible, even if you feel like it’s something you don’t deserve… you’ll find it. You’re more than the pain, more than the anger. You’re still alive, Zoey.”
Zoey felt a warmth rising in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope, fragile and hesitant, but there. “But what if it doesn’t happen? What if… I can’t change?”
Human Zoey reached out, her fingers hovering near Zoey’s arm, a comforting gesture, though they never quite touched. “Then try. Because that’s what you’ve always done, isn’t it? Every time you thought you’d reached the end, you kept going. You’re not just a weapon, Zoey. You’re more. And one day, maybe you’ll believe that, too.”
The quiet settled back in as the words lingered between them, sinking deep into Zoey’s mind. She didn’t want this feeling to fade, this strange, comforting presence of herself that she never thought she’d know. She wanted to hold onto it, keep it close, but as her human self’s figure began to blur and fade, she knew their time was ending.
“Don’t give up, Zoey,” Human Zoey said softly, her voice beginning to echo, growing distant. “I’m proud of you.”
And then she was gone. The room darkened, the silence thickened, and everything felt cold.
When her eyes opened, the fluorescent lights of a hospital room came into focus. She lay in a narrow, sterile bed, her body aching, heavy with fatigue. The room was empty, devoid of visitors or any sign of companionship, but she didn’t feel the loneliness as sharply as she once had.
Zoey closed her eyes again, the memory of that conversation fresh, imprinted in her mind. She’d keep going, for herself, for that part of her she thought she’d lost. And no matter what waited for her, she would keep fighting.
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