Watermark (Part 2)

Author’s Note: I’m very humbled to have had a great response to part one of Watermark. I have had several people compliment me and ask me if there would be a continuation, which is a crazy feeling. I had no idea people were even reading my blurbs. But thanks to the power of a good cliffhanger, you’ve asked for more, so I present that here. I hope it doesn’t disappoint.


“The doctor will see you now.”

I followed the nurse through the hallway to the room I was in last week. Every step was slower, matching the sense of doom growing in my heart. There was nothing to indicate on the surface that this place was anything less than what it pretended it was, but I had my suspicions. I needed answers.

I sat in the chair as the doctor came into the room.

“Ah, Mr. Delavigne! It’s good to see you again. In need of another fifty bucks?” He chuckled slightly.

It was here that I should have said something clever, or simply called him out. What’s the real motive of your experiment, you chuckling psychopath? But instead, I said something that surprised even myself.

“Yes sir. In need of another research volunteer?”

He smiled. “I certainly am. And it’s good to see that you’ve come back. I believe that we played a rock song for you last time. ‘Show Me How to Live’ by Audioslave, if I’m not mistaken. Does that sound right?”

I had no idea. I just nodded, not wanting to appear unfamiliar with popular culture. Also, I genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Well, I think we may switch things up for you this time. We’ll go with a classical piece. I’m thinking Beethoven.”

He kept waving his clipboard as he gestured in time with his words. I tried to catch a glimpse of something pertinent, but the only thing I could make out for sure was the largest word at the top: DELAVIGNE.

“That sounds alright,” I lied. I didn’t really care for classical music either.

He left to go to the observation room as several men came in, going through the usual song and dance of attaching electrodes from various instruments to different parts of my body. There was a part of me that thought if I wanted answers, I should have been more direct with the doctor, but another part of me liked the thrill of this sort of espionage. Certainly, I had no idea what I was doing, or even if I would be able to gather any information this way. However, the main answer I wanted was why my hand was twitching. When it was twitching, I sensed I was in danger. But I was safe in my apartment the whole time. If I got home after the experiment with another twitching hand, I surmised, then I could blame this so-called research facility and demand answers next time. But if I didn’t, then it could have just been anything really. A lack of certain chemicals in the brain can cause all sorts of strange behavior.

When the song ended, the electrodes were removed, the check was received, and I headed home to await my destiny.

And that’s the last thing I remember.

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