The Inception (Book #1 of The Inception Trilogy)

epilogue

Please, don't let it be true.

He clenches his hands, still chained together, and squeezes them, digging his nails into his palms as he forces his gaze upwards.

Doctor Stevens looks the same as he always has--dark yet graying hair, wrinkles creasing his forehead and the corners of his soft, blue eyes. Eyes that always fooled Harry into believing trickery was sincerity. Eyes that would calm Harry one day and haunt him the next. He can't look at his eyes for too long. He averts his gaze when he feels blood dripping down his fingers.

The doctor has the audacity to smile, his eyes glazed as if he were welcoming home a long lost son. "You look as strong as ever. Have you been keeping up your physique? Go on, break the chains."

Harry narrows his eyes at the ground, refusing to obey him. Doctor Stevens no longer has any control over him, and he wants him to know that.

"My boy, don't be so cold. Please, just let me look at you. You've no idea how much I've missed you. How long I've waited to see you again." His tone is almost pleading, once again trying to deceive Harry into thinking he's genuine.

The doctor had once told Harry he was the son he never got to have. He treated him that way too, for a little while at least. Then he made more experiments, got stricter on what could and couldn't be tolerated. Compassion went out the window. Any admiration the doctor used to hold in his gaze towards Harry disappeared. He was no longer the yearned-for-son. None of the experiments were treated well, not even with the slightest bit of decency.

It was either kill or be tortured and brainwashed until you didn't have a choice.

The doctor steps closer to him, instinctively causing him to step back. He still can't wrap the doctor's survival around his head. He shouldn't be breathing--didn't deserve to be breathing. Harry hates thinking that way--it makes him feel like the soldier he was supposed to be--but he can't help it under the circumstances.

When the doctor reaches a hand out, Harry finally growls warningly, "Don't touch me."

He catches a glimpse of the doctor's face, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say there was a flash of hurt. "What happened to the bond we used to have?" the old man whispers, sounding unbelievingly upset.

Harry meets the man's eyes, narrowing his own.

The doctor, wisely, takes that step back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, so low Harry would've missed it were it not for his altered hearing. The hearing this man gave to him. "Please believe me. I never intended to hurt you."

Harry can't conjure the right words to respond.

The doctor, looking oh-so-remorseful and sympathetic, hesitates a moment or two before testing the boundaries again with that small step. He reaches for Harry's face again, Harry flinching and angling his face away when his cool fingertips hit his skin. He traces the outline of Harry's fangs, all the while staring at him with bleary eyes.

"I can fix you," he whispers, letting his hand drop to his side. "I can prove to you that you mean more to me than another science project."

Harry's heart falters in his chest though he warns himself not to trust a single word. He holds the old man's gaze. "Stop lying to me."

"No, my boy, I'm not lying," he replies, seeming desperate to get Harry's trust as he musters a weak smile. "I know you hate those fangs. I can take them away. Same with those eyes. If you want your abilities, you can keep them."

Harry risks a pang of hope, his eyes wavering between the doctor's. "Stop," he says quietly, shaking his head. All tricks, all games, all lies. He can't let himself be manipulated any longer. He can't be normal again. It's not possible.