Nobody moved.
The phrase echoed in my mind.
Subject 12 is alive.
I looked at Jason.
He looked back at me.
Then both of us looked toward the baby.
Emily shook her head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
The stranger's face was tense.
“It will.”
“Then explain it.”
He opened the cabinet again and pulled out a thick brown folder.
The label was simple.
SUBJECT 12.
He placed it on the table.
Jason reached for it.
I stopped him.
“Wait.”
There was something about the folder that made me uneasy. The edges were worn. The paper inside looked older than everything else we'd found. Someone had handled it many times.
The stranger opened it himself.
The first page contained a photograph of a newborn.
I recognized the marking immediately.
Three thin lines.
A circle.
The same shape our baby carried.
Under the photograph was a date.
The day before Jason and I were officially born.
“That is Subject 12,” the stranger said.
Jason leaned closer.
“That's not our mother.”
“No.”
“Then where is she?”
The stranger turned the page.
There was another photograph.
This time, the baby was older.
Perhaps six months.
Then another.
One year.
Two years.
The pictures continued.
My hands began shaking.
“This child grew up.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The stranger didn't answer.
Jason flipped ahead.
There were medical reports.
Height.
Weight.
Blood tests.
Developmental observations.
Then, on one page, a name had been written.
I recognized it immediately.
My own.
Not my full name.
Just the first name my parents had given me.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
The stranger's expression tightened.
“That is why they are searching.”
Jason looked at the page.
“Her name is the same as yours.”
“No,” I whispered.
I read the date again.
It was two years before our official birth.
The name appeared beside a photograph of a little girl with dark hair.
She was standing in a garden.
Her back was turned.
The mark was visible.
I felt dizzy.
“That's me.”
Jason shook his head.
“It can't be.”
I looked at the photograph.
There were details I recognized.
The small garden shed.
The white fence.
The red bicycle.
I remembered that bicycle.
I remembered riding it.
I remembered our mother calling me inside.
But I had always believed those memories belonged to after Jason and I were born.
Now they didn't.
The stranger spoke softly.
“You were Subject 12.”
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
“You were.”
“Then who was Jason?”
He looked at my brother.
“Subject 13.”
Jason stared at him.
“And the birth records?”
“Changed.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I sat down.
For years, I had believed my brother and I were identical twins.
We had the same birthday.
The same parents.
The same childhood photographs.
The same memories.
But now the foundation beneath those memories was cracking.
Jason sat beside me.
“You're saying we aren't twins.”
The stranger nodded.
“You were raised as twins.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“No.”
Jason looked at me.
His eyes filled with tears.
I couldn't look away.
The two of us had spent our entire lives being described as inseparable. People joked that we could finish each other's sentences. Our parents had dressed us alike when we were children. We had shared a bedroom until we were teenagers.
If what the stranger was saying was true, then our bond was real.
But the story we had been told about it wasn't.
Emily stepped closer.
“Why would they make them believe they were twins?”
The stranger answered carefully.
“Because your father wanted to hide Subject 12 in plain sight.”
“From the researchers?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was she living with them?”
“Because the researchers were looking for her.”
“And Jason?”
“Your father used the second embryo to create a cover story.”
Jason stared at him.
“You mean I was created to protect her?”
“Partly.”
His expression hardened.
“I was a decoy.”
The stranger shook his head.
“You were his son.”
“But I wasn't her twin.”
“No.”
I covered my face.
The memories came faster now.
Our mother brushing my hair.
Our father teaching Jason to ride a bicycle.
The two of us arguing over toys.
The first day of school.
All of it was real.
But perhaps not all of it had happened the way I remembered.
“Why don't I remember being older when Jason was born?”
The stranger answered.
“Because you were very young.”
“But the photographs…”
“Your father destroyed most of them.”
I looked again at the picture of the little girl.
She had my face.
Not similar.
Mine.
The same eyes.
The same crooked smile.
The same tiny scar near the eyebrow I had gotten when I fell from the garden wall as a child.
Except the date said I hadn't been born yet.
Jason took my hand.
“You're still my sister.”
I looked at him.
He squeezed my fingers.
“Whatever they called us.”
The words broke something inside me.
I started crying.
Emily came around the table and put one hand on my shoulder.
Then the baby began to cry.
The sound brought me back.
I looked down.
Her tiny face was red from crying.
I took her from Emily.
She quieted almost immediately.
I held her close.
The stranger watched us.
“She has your mother's sequence.”
“And mine?”
He nodded.
“And Jason's.”
I frowned.
“How can that be if the embryo was created decades ago?”
He looked away.
“It wasn't simply preserved.”
I waited.
“What does that mean?”
“The researchers continued modifying the material.”
Jason stood.
“Modified?”
“They wanted to make the next generation more stable.”
“You mean they experimented on embryos.”
“Yes.”
I looked down at the baby.
“What did they change?”
The stranger didn't answer.
Jason grabbed his shoulder.
“What did they change?”
The stranger pulled away.
“I don't know everything.”
“You know enough.”
“I know the original project was abandoned.”
“Why?”
“Because Subject 12 survived outside their control.”
I stared at him.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“And what made me survive?”
He hesitated.
“Your body rejected one of the genetic modifications.”
Jason frowned.
“So she wasn't supposed to be born.”
“No.”
“She was supposed to be destroyed.”
The stranger nodded.
I looked at the baby.
“And now they want her because she carries the version that survived.”
“Yes.”
The vehicle outside started its engine.
The stranger's head snapped toward the window.
“They're leaving.”
Jason frowned.
“Why?”
The stranger looked at me.
“Because they found what they came for.”
“What?”
He pointed toward the table.
The old photograph was gone.
I looked down.
The picture of our mother holding the newborn had disappeared.
Nobody had moved.
Except the stranger.
He shook his head.
“I didn't take it.”
Jason turned toward the door.
A small piece of paper had been pushed underneath it.
He picked it up.
There was only one sentence.
We know which twin is Subject 12 now.
My hands went cold.
Jason looked at me.
Then at the baby.
“They know.”
The stranger nodded.
“And they're coming back.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Truth About My Identity Changed Everything I Believed About My Brother, Yet the Baby’s Next Examination Revealed an Even Deeper Connection
My Twin Brother Had Waited Years for This Child, Yet the First Thing He Saw After Her Birth Made Him Step Away
Part 6 of 20
