'Tis in my memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet

As much as suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder has hindered my senses, I've never found myself to be completely incapable of moving. Momentary paralysis is exactly how one would think it would be-momentary. And however way I manage to handle the trauma, I've found that I never think back to the memory that triggered such a domino effect. That's not because the memory can't be reached, but because it's not a memory. A string of small hits to my consciousness has broken the barrier between reality and imagination. At least, that's what the doctor told my father as I quietly stood listening through the crack at the door.

PTSD. Possible symptoms of psychosis. Lacks the capability to fully comprehend reality.

My entire mental state has developed an intricate design of dominos. Trigger after trigger, stressor after stressor, and then I'm out. I no longer have the self-control to stop my mind from removing itself from the situation. It's a defense tactic made within the brain of a offensive personality.

As Dox falls to the ground, my subconscious ticks its internal clock, waiting for my mind to shut down on itself.

Thump. Tick.

Chase collapses. Tock.

My ears buzz with static, waiting for the race to begin; to see whether my surroundings will get to me first.

They don't.

***

The brisk breeze of winter still feels like its nipping at my nose as I step into the close quarters of my mother's hospital room. It's Origin Day, though the festivities have lessened a great amount due to the state of my family. Even at such a young age, I'm still aware of the grievances holding my father in a chokehold as he gives me my gift. I notice that our house is beyond empty. It feels as though someone has torn a gash into our reality, sucking it into a black hole.

But I never tell Mom about that. I act like any normal seven-year-old that's only concerned with dolls and other forgettable materials. I act normal for my mother, whose gash is far greater than mine.

Realizing I'm still standing next to the door, I shuffle toward the hospital bed, shaking off my coat. She's sleeping with her eyes open, but I hardly feel surprised or panicked. This is how she usually is when I visit. Completely still, mouth open just a tiny bit in a way that makes her look mildly surprised. Her eyes are glazed over, as if bored by her surroundings.

As much as I hate to see her so quiet, I'd rather have her be at some peace rather than holding me close to her, pretending like the feeling of my arms around her doesn't set her skin on fire.

"It's Origin Day, Mom," I whisper in her ear, attempting to ease the apprehension that always manages to rise with every visit. I doubt she can hear me, but I'd rather make the most of my visit than sit around like usual. "Daddy and Chase couldn't come today. They said they're very sorry and they hope you get better."

Dad and Chase would never come inside, actually. I think it's because they're scared. I'm scared, too, but I love my mom too much to worry about that.

"I brought a present for you." I frown, looking around her room for an ornamentation to put my gift under. Ironically, Origin Day managed to be on the same day as Christmas. The two managed to blend together over the years, acting as a symbol for the birth of a new, modern era: the commonwealth. Not that there was much to celebrate nowadays.

After a bit of searching, I decide to place the gift under the hospital bed as a surprise. It's not as empty as I expected. After a bit of cramming, I manage to place the box next to a package of heavy supplies.

"This paper has your name on it, Mom," I think out loud, coming up with a loose sheet that managed to fall out.

A jumble of words stare back to me, none of them making sense except for my mother's name. I feel the creeping sense that I shouldn't be reading the sheet, but I push it away out of curiosity.

Patient 001. I manage to decipher one of the highlighted portions, but one word taunts me at its length.

"S-U-R-R-O-G-A-T-E," I murmur underneath my breath. Surrogate.

***

"Have you logged her history of psychosis under your initial medical paper?"

A light flashes in my eye and I let out an embarrassing yelp of surprise.

"Sorry, just checking your vitals," someone breaths into my ear as they place something heavy on my upper arm. "I never got the chance to do anything except check her vitals."

Under his breath, I hear the voice mumble "she's feistier than she looks."

It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the lighting of what looks like yet another medical room. I feel like I should just adjust to living here, seeing as that I always wind up in a hospital bed.

"Ow," I grumble, feeling the weight on my arm multiply to a nearly uncomfortable pressure.

"Don't worry, it's just to check your blood pressure." A set of familiar blue eyes connect with mine, winking surreptitiously.

"Ather." His name comes out breathier than I expect and I frown at the smirk forming at his lips. "I thought you asked Nes to be off babysitting duty."

"We both came to an agreement that I'd be the best person to look after you," he answers. I notice the pressure on my arm lessening with each pulse of the machine next to us.

"There's obviously been a misunderstanding about the purpose of Project Luna." I look up to see Nes leaning casually against a surgical tray. My hands tremor at the sight of her. "We're not something you should run away from, Ophelia."

I open my mouth to tell her, off, but I decide to take the high road. Instead, I turn to Ather. "Have you treated the others?"

Ather's forehead crinkles. "What do you mean?"

Nes clears her throat and gives me a look as if to say keep quiet, you trouble child. I guess the puppeteer doesn't spill all of her secrets to the puppet.

"I'm really flattered by how much you care about my opinion of this godforsaken facility, but I do have to say your logic is flawed. Trying to kill Dox and Chase aren't necessarily the fastest way to assure my loyalty." I cross my arms, waiting for Nes to make a face at my commentary. As usual, she's robotically calm and barely twitches at the sight of Ather's wide eyes.

"Killed?" He chokes out before pushing himself away from the monitor he was previously fiddling with. In an instant, his tall frame is looking down on Nes' smaller yet more menacing position. "Is what she said true?"

"You're in no position to ask questions, Mr. Keating." I nearly choke on my own saliva at the sight of her rolling her eyes at Ather. It's almost laughable, the way she manages to disrespect him so often when he's been loyal to her for so long. It only makes me feel more inclined to hate her. Haughty people irritate me to no end.

"Seeing as he's the closest medical personnel we're in contact with, I'd like for him to check up on my friends, maybe even check their pulse," I remark, giving Nes the coldest glare I can muster. The ice in my eyes thaw a bit, however, at the sight of Ather fighting on my side.

Nes sighs in frustration before holding up her hands in surrender. "Your friends are fine, Ophelia. Next time you go on an escapade with your tech friend, try reminding him to bring his faulty Graft gun with him."

I frown in confusion before I realize what she means.

"That moron," I whisper, thinking back to when we were leaving with Chase. He must have left the Graft gun behind while we were running away. "How did they pass out so quickly if the gun is just supposed to mess with a person's senses?"

"I suppose he also forgot about the wavelength enhancer. The user can temporarily disable a person with just resetting a few notches. The effect only lasts five minutes." Nes goes back to leaning casually against the table, her eyes teasing me to ask another question.

"Where are they?" Ather asks. I'm almost relieved to not have to push Dr. Evil to the point of strangulation.

"In a holding cell, which brings us to an even bigger matter." With that, Nes pulls out a small tablet from her back pocket, nudging it in Ather's hands. He reluctantly breaks his tough-guy stance to show the screen to me.

A slur of curse words rush to the tip of my tongue as I watch the video tape playing on the tablet before me. Security Cam 5 is written in text on the bottom portion of the screen, and in the center lies the spitting image of my father. Maddox warned me about the program finding out about my father's arrival, though I'd barely even thought of what excuse to give them of his late appearance. From seeing what Chase went through after withholding information about my father's location, I'm terrified to think about what's to become of me. Hell, I didn't even know where my father was until a few hours ago. I'm still putting together pieces of the puzzle that is the mysteries of the Darwin family.

"Mind telling me who this is?" Ather murmurs next to me as he takes in my apprehensive expression.

"He's a ghost from the past," Nes says, maintaining her cool look on me. "Isn't he, Lia?"

She looks at me as if I should be in on an inside joke. Whatever this woman is getting at, I don't find it funny in any way. Just the look of her smirk gives me the creeps.

"Your father," Ather says quietly with his bottom lip pulled between his fingers. With a small head nod, his frown clears away and settles into yet another set of wide eyes. "Does this video feed have audio?"

Once again, my attention is brought back to the image of my father, this time less still than before. He's pacing sporadically around the wall, his mouth open wide as if he's yelling into the void.

Seeing him on the screen give me the strangest sensation that something is horribly wrong. My father has never moved so quickly in his life. He lacks the capability of going at anything beyond walking speed. And I've never seen him yell since my mother's death, when all he could do was scream for someone to save her from the inevitable. In short, my father is not the man on the screen. He's calm and collected, practiced with his speech.

The man in front of me is wild and animated. He's unaware of the fact that he's talking to a metal wall.

"Mr. Darwin has become a lunatic," Nes concludes for me as she removes the screen from my hands. "Our security team is afraid of attempting to open the walls to him with what they've seen so far. He's attempting to damage the walls, making demands that we can't provide."

"Like what?" I ask, but my voice is drowned out by the sound of my father's.

Let me do my research, goddamnit! We don't have any time left! The strain has gone too far-

The audio cuts off as Nes puts the tablet pack in her pocket. "I'll agree to the release of your friend if you speak to Cayce." I barely register her mention of my dad's first name.

"What about my brother?"

"I think we can both agree that there are questions that must be answered as soon as possible and I can't have the two of you standing together after what I saw today." I grimace slightly as the image of Nes collapsing swims into my brain. As much as I'd love to counter her argument, I understand where she's coming from. And seeing as how my father's arrival has already created a rift within the dome, I can't avoid the inevitable.

"Let's meet my maker, then."

***

The next few, torturous minutes comprise of me attempting to follow behind Nes and Ather as they speed through the maze of hallways. It's eerily quiet as we make our way toward the elevator, the only sound being my embarrassingly heavy breathing.

"We issued an evac drill as soon as the receptors spotted your dad," Ather murmurs from beside me when the elevator doors shift around us. "It's custom with every possible intruder that every floor empties out into the Hub so that we don't suffer collateral damage from the entrance of the strain."

They didn't have an evac drill for my arrival, I almost say out loud, but from the look of Ather's confused stare, it seems as though he's had the same realization. It takes a few minutes of our ascent for me to finally understand why. Chase was already associated with the organization-they knew about his health already. As for me, well, according to everyone here it looks like I'm not someone to worry about. In fact, my arrival here was probably considered an added safety procedure, seeing as how they believe I have an inherent immunity.

"Mr. Keating, make your way to the observatory. I'll be delivering Ophelia by myself today," Nes shoos off Ather, who reluctantly gives my back a pat before turning in the opposite direction as soon as the elevator panels slide open.

Delivering. As if I'm a package, I scoff to myself. That's probably how they see me in Project Luna. An important bag of blood with less-than-appealing emotional distress.

"This is as far as I can go," Nes says as we stop in front of what looks like a heavy metal hatch. "There's an airlock between each opening. To open the next door, just place your hand over the scanner and say your name."

"It's like they're sending me off to the moon," I grumble, earning myself a warning glance from Nes. I roll my eyes and brush past her.

After a few harsh tugs, the hatch finally opens to the airlock.

"You are by no means given the okay to leave, Ms. Darwin," Nes orders before turning her back toward me. "Don't fool yourself into thinking that you're playing the hero."

I'm almost positive I'm not meant to hear the last part, but my lack of arm strength makes me pause as I close the latch.

Sayonara, bitch. With one last tug, the door closes, leaving me in a literal purgatory. Sadly enough, I'm not sure which door will lead me to salvation.

"Ophelia Darwin," I say out loud as the concentrated grid pans over my palm.

Access granted, a robotic voice not too far from Nes's calls out. Caution: Outside grounds cannot maintain airlock capabilities...

The voice eventually fizzles out as I step farther away from the hatch.

"Dad?" I call out, squinting to see beyond the curves of the dome. "I'm here, Dad. It's okay."

"Finally!" His voice rises from the left flank. I watch apprehensively as he rounds the edge and walks toward me, his hands put together as if in prayer. "Your company is about to be filed a long and angry report-"

"Dad, it's me." I choke out, finally able to move my body. I practically throw myself against him into a hug, to which he hesitantly pats my back. At this point in time, I don't care about any hanging responsibilities or fears. This man may not be the one I had last seen at my home, but he is my father. The ridiculous yet believable combination of the smell of the sea and the woods are still on his clothes even as they're covered in dirt.

"Sorry for not recognizing you before, Doll." He gives me an extra squeeze before pulling away, though the gesture is in no way reassuring. At the sound of his voice, I'm already backing away from him, practically cowering in his midst.

My father only calls one person Doll, and it isn't me.

"We have a lot of work to do, Ileana." He gestures toward the hatch, frowning slightly at my expression.

"M-my name isn't Ileana," I whisper. The tears won't stop flowing down my cheeks as I stare at the man before me. I was right before. This is not the man I know. This is not my father.

Because my father would sure as hell know that my name is not Ileana. He would know that that named belongs to a ghost-my mother.

***

A/N: OH MY GOD! I'm super excited, as per usual. This entire chapter was so hard to write, honestly. Having to write in the spaces of time where the characters are walking through hallways makes me so anxious. Like, I need a blueprint of the dome, please. Where do I turn?

Once again, I'm sorry for the late update, blahblahblah. I reiterate that I am still recovering and that it will take about a month until I'm fully capable of not being a giant baby. Every day gets better, though, and every day I'm thinking of new things to add to this story. Did I also mention that I have completely changed the ending during this period of time? I hope you're all ready. I know I'm not.

The lovely edit featured in this chapter is by none other than CandaceMJ. I know I haven't made the author's note explaining my fan cast yet, but I couldn't resist posting this as soon as Ather came back into the story. Ain't Athia a beaut? Send MJ some happy messages because she deserves it and I don't thank her enough. Also, Chameleon, obviously. Read that. And she has a new story called Sugar Rush that has JOE JONAS as part of the cast. What to heck?

I've also spent some time making edits for IleanaLewis's story The Black Dreamer. The new cover is going to be out very soon and let me tell you, it's pretty cool. Go read her story because she's super talented and is made of diamonds.

Also a special thanks to those of you who have sent me edits! I absolutely love them all and I do a little happy dance every time I see an email in my inbox. You're all so talented it just warms my heart. I'll most likely be posting fan edits these next few chapters because I LOVE THEM.

Comment your thoughts on this chapter! Love you all!

Stay lunar,

Liliana