Silent Havoc

Reflection

Almost as if her senses had just woken up, Zulie stared at Silas with wide eyes.

“That’s strange,” she murmured, still processing. “I totally mourned your death, thinking you were gone… How?” She gazed into his eyes, almost as if seeing him for the first time.

Before Silas could say a word, she stretched out her hand to touch his face.

“Wait… you look different from before,” she said, her fingers brushing his head gently.

Silas let her hand rest there for a moment before he gently took hold of it and released it.

“You don’t even need your glasses anymore. You always wore them before to see clearly, right?” she asked, puzzled.

Silas sighed and gave a faint smile.

“Like you’re just noticing me now, huh?” His tone was nonchalant as he continued walking.

Zulie hesitated, her curiosity still burning. “Silas, tell me the truth. I heard a rumor in class when the big boys were talking. They said your grandma is some wicked old witch who saved you with her superpowers… Is that true?” Her voice wavered, and she gave an awkward look.

Silas let out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re still a kid?” His unreadable demeanor remained, though his words hinted at a subtle amusement.

They parted ways, with Silas heading to the bus stop while Zulie waited for her driver.

As Silas arrived home, he noticed the front door was open, and a thin trail of smoke was coming from the kitchen window.

His heart raced as he sprinted toward the house. He burst inside to find his grandmother lying helplessly on the floor, her eyes wide in panic. Without a second thought, he scooped her up and carried her out of the house, barely acknowledging the weight of her in his arms.

He rushed her to the hospital, a few buildings away. After ensuring she was safely taken care of, he turned and raced back home.

By the time he returned, the smoke from the kitchen had turned into a full-blown fire, the flames licking at the edges of the building. Neighbors had gathered, already calling the fire department.

Without hesitation, Silas grabbed two fire extinguishers and charged into the kitchen. His actions were precise, efficient—almost as if he had done this countless times before.

By the time the fire trucks arrived, Silas had already extinguished the fire. The neighbors watched in awe as they clapped for the young man who had saved their homes.

“He’s so admirable,” one neighbor remarked.

“Such a brave young man,” an elderly man added as they all began to disperse, heading back to their homes.

Silas returned to the hospital after cleaning up the kitchen.

“Grandma, are you okay?” he asked as he stood beside her bed, her eyes still closed.

She slowly took his hand, her grip weak but steady. As she opened her eyes, tears began to well up.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Silas, clearly dumbfounded, asked again, “What? Grandma, are you okay?”

“Why did you save me?” she whispered, tears spilling down her face.

Silas remained calm, wiping her tears gently with his hand. “Please, rest. Don’t stress yourself with tears. I already handled the fire,” he said softly, his voice steady.

After a moment of silence, his grandmother spoke again, her voice quieter now.

“They came for you.”

“Me?” Silas muttered, confused.

“Yes,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was cooking when they came. Those bastards from the lab—they said they were doing experiments. They asked about you. I told them you were still at school, but they insisted on searching the house. They wanted to check your room, examine it.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped his tighter. “I tried to stop them. I didn’t want them coming in, but they forced their way inside. One of them injected me with something… After that, I felt completely drained. I couldn’t even get to the kitchen to turn off the fire.”

Her voice broke as she continued, “I couldn’t scream for help. The whole place started burning. But then you came… right on time.”

Tears flowed freely as she clutched his hand. “Despite everything—despite how tough and cruel I’ve been to you, blaming you for your father’s death, and everything I did—you still saved me.”

Silas placed his other hand over hers, his calmness never faltering.

“It’s okay, Grandma. I’ll get you something to eat,” Silas said politely, gently releasing her hand.

As he stood and turned to leave the room, her voice called out behind him.

“Silas… please forgive me. I know I’ve wronged you—so many times. Please… forgive me.”

He froze mid-step, the words hanging heavy in the air. He didn’t look back. He felt the emotion, but he didn’t let it show. Without saying a word, Silas walked out of the room.

Silas made his way to the lab, his mind storming with the memory of the voice he’d heard earlier that day—the one echoing inside his head, the one that surely belonged to those doctors… the ones who claimed he’d been “bitten” by their experiment.

He pulled on a black long-sleeve sweater with a hood that covered both his head and face.

When he reached the lab’s entrance, a man immediately blocked his path.

“Hey, you—” the man said, stepping into the doorway. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Silas didn’t reply. He shifted sideways, trying to walk around him.

“Are you deaf or what? Take off that hood. Let me see your face!” the man demanded, growing more aggressive.

The man’s hand reached toward Silas’s chest, attempting to push him back.

Silas moved to the side swiftly, and the man stumbled forward from the force he meant to use.

“Oh, shit,” the man growled, quickly pulling a small knife from his pocket.

He lunged forward to stab Silas—

—but in a blink, Silas twisted, grabbed the man’s wrist, and redirected the blade—right into the man’s own chest.

The man collapsed immediately, eyes wide with shock.

It was a perfect counter. Too perfect.

Silas stood over the body, breath caught, a strange coldness washing over him.

“What… what have I done?” he whispered, suddenly aware of what he’d become.

He heard footsteps—guards shouting from inside.

Snapping back to reality, Silas turned and ran.

He darted through alleyways, sharp turns keeping the security from catching up. When he was far enough, he yanked off his jacket and dumped it in a trash can, vanishing into the crowd.

His heart pounded—not from fear, but from something else. Something… inhuman. Cold. Detached.

Silas returned to the hospital, holding a small bag in his hand.

“Grandma, you should eat something. You’ll be discharged soon,” he said, placing the bag on the table next to her bed.

He quickly walked toward the hospital’s restroom.

“Silas…” her voice called again. “Is everything okay with you?”

He paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. “Nothing,” he said with a small, reassuring smile.

Inside the bathroom, Silas leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face. Droplets ran down as he slowly raised his head to the mirror.

He stared at himself. Really stared.

“What’s… happening to me?” he whispered.

He touched his face with both hands, slowly feeling the new sharpness in his jawline, the clarity in his eyes—no glasses needed anymore.

He pulled off his shirt and looked at his body.

Before, he was lean—scrawny even. Now, his body looked sculpted—like an athlete, like someone who had spent years training. His muscles were defined. Tight. Powerful.

A smile tugged at his lips in disbelief. “Is this me?”

Shock and awe danced in his eyes.

But the smile didn’t last long.

The image of the man collapsing… the warm blood… the ease with which he struck…

His expression twisted.

He slammed his palms against the tiled wall, the sound echoing through the room.

“Shake it off,” he muttered, trying to will his mind back under control.

His breath grew heavy.

The strength. The instincts. The voice in his head.

Something was happening.

And it was only just beginning.