A Spark in the Cold
The lab was a symphony of sterile white and cold steel. Arleyong, a recent arrival, huddled in the corner of her observation cell, trying to make herself as small as possible. The experiments had already begun, and the chilling screams of other subjects echoed through the corridors — a constant reminder of her grim reality.
One day, a new face appeared in the cell across from hers — a girl with bright, inquisitive eyes and a cascade of dark hair. Her name was Kikyo.
Kikyo tilted her head, studying Arleyong with an unnerving intensity. "Hello," she called out, her voice surprisingly cheerful in the oppressive atmosphere.
Arleyong flinched, her heart pounding. She barely managed a weak, "Hi."
"I'm Kikyo," the girl continued, undeterred by Arleyong's reticence. "What's your name?"
"Arleyong," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
"Arleyong," Kikyo repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "That's a nice and rare name. Are you new here?"
Arleyong nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Me too," Kikyo said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Well, relatively new. I've only been here a few weeks. It's not exactly the most exciting place, is it?"
Arleyong didn't respond. She was terrified, overwhelmed by the strangeness of it all.
Kikyo sighed dramatically. "Look, I get it. You're scared. But being scared all the time is boring. How about we be friends? Misery loves company, right?"
Arleyong hesitated. Friends? In this place? It seemed impossible. But Kikyo's genuine smile was strangely comforting.
"I… I don't know," Arleyong stammered.
"Come on," Kikyo urged. "What do you have to lose? Besides, I've been trying to figure out how to short-circuit the security cameras, and I could use a partner in crime."
A faint smile flickered across Arleyong's face. "Short-circuit the cameras?"
"Yep," Kikyo said, winking. "Operation Freedom is a go, as soon as I have an accomplice. So, what do you say? Friends?"
Arleyong took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, a glimmer of hope sparking in her eyes. "Friends."
And so began an unlikely friendship in the most unlikely of places.
They communicated through the bars of their cells, sharing stories, jokes, and dreams of a life beyond the lab. Kikyo, with her boundless energy and infectious optimism, slowly drew Arleyong out of her shell.
One day, while the guards were distracted, Kikyo managed to slip a small piece of chalk through the bars to Arleyong. "Draw something!" she whispered. "Let's decorate this drab place."
Arleyong, hesitant at first, began to draw on the wall of her cell — a flower, then a tree, then a whole forest. Kikyo joined in, drawing fantastical creatures and whimsical landscapes on her side of the wall. Soon, their cells were transformed into a vibrant canvas of color and imagination.
Another time, during meal distribution, Kikyo managed to swipe an extra spoonful of mashed potatoes. She fashioned it into a tiny sculpture of one of the scientists, complete with a comically large nose and a perpetually frowning face. Arleyong burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the sterile corridor.
"What's so funny?" a guard barked, approaching their cells.
Kikyo quickly devoured the potato sculpture, leaving no trace of her artistic endeavor. "Nothing, officer," she said innocently. "Just sharing a joke with my friend."
The guard grumbled and moved on, leaving the two girls giggling in their cells.
Their friendship was a small spark of light in the darkness — a reminder that even in the most dehumanizing of environments, hope and laughter could still survive. Arleyong, who had arrived at the lab a frightened and withdrawn girl, found herself slowly opening up, her emotions cautiously reawakening under Kikyo's unwavering friendship. She still wasn't overly emotional, but the numbness was fading, replaced by a fragile sense of connection and belonging.
They knew their time together might be limited, that the experiments could tear them apart at any moment. But for now, they had each other. And in the cold, sterile world of the lab, that was enough.
After three years, the forest floor was a tapestry of green and gold as Arleyong and Kikyo chased each other between the ancient trees. Sunlight dappled through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on their faces as they laughed.
"Arleyong, catch me if you can!" Kikyo called out, her voice light and free.
Arleyong grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'll catch you, Kikyo! Just you wait!"
They tumbled together near the whispering stream, breathless with laughter. Kikyo, her dark eyes suddenly serious, looked at Arleyong. "Promise me something, Arleyong."
"Anything," Arleyong replied, her voice full of youthful sincerity.
"Promise you'll always be with me. Promise you'll always be my best friend — and only mine."
Arleyong took Kikyo's hand, her grip firm. "I promise, Kikyo. Always and forever."
Kikyo giggled. "I wish we could get out of the experiment and see the world together. And I... love you."
Arleyong's eyes widened, her cheeks turning red. "I…"
Kikyo looked away, blushing. "You… you don't need to answer if you're not ready. I just wanted you to know how I feel."
The world shifted. The warm sunlight faded, replaced by a sterile, cold light. A man in a white coat, his face obscured by shadows, stood before them. His name was Dan Heng. Before either girl could react, they were seized and dragged away.
"HEY! Let us go!" shouted Kikyo.
Arleyong struggled, her heart pounding in her chest, but it was no use. They were separated, and Arleyong watched in horror as Kikyo was forced into a massive glass tank filled with murky liquid.
"Kikyo! No! Let go of her, you psycho!" Arleyong screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the cold, metallic room.
Through the glass, Arleyong saw Kikyo thrashing, her face contorted in pain. Wires snaked around the tank, and sparks flew as the liquid began to bubble. Kikyo's screams were muffled, but her agony was clear. Arleyong watched, helpless, as her best friend suffered. Then, silence. Kikyo's body went still, floating lifelessly in the tank.
Arleyong's world shattered.
"Kikyo!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "Kikyo, please!"
But Kikyo was gone.
Then it was Arleyong's turn. She was dragged to a different part of the lab, strapped to a cold metal table. A strange machine loomed over her head, wires and electrodes dangling like metallic snakes.
"No! Please, no!" she begged, but her pleas were ignored.
Dan Heng approached, his eyes devoid of emotion. "This will only hurt for a moment," he said, his voice flat and clinical.
The machine whirred to life, and a searing pain shot through Arleyong's head. She screamed, her body convulsing against the restraints. Images flashed before her eyes — Kikyo's smiling face, the sunlit forest, the cold, sterile lab. Then, darkness.
When Arleyong awoke, she was in a cage. The world seemed muted, distant. She remembered Kikyo, the promise, the pain… but the emotions that should have accompanied those memories were gone. The fear, the grief, the love — all were absent, replaced by a hollow emptiness.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Arleyong remained in the cage, a silent observer of the world around her. The scientists came and went, poking and prodding, running tests and making notes. She felt nothing.
One day, Dan Heng came to her cage. He looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"Subject A-9, Kikyo Kagumi. Experiment failed," Dan Heng said, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Subject A-10, Arleyong Ting," he continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "Emotional response: sadness, anger, happiness, and affection deleted. Experiment half-successful."
Arleyong stared back at him, her eyes empty. The words meant nothing. Success? Failure? It was all the same.
She was a shell, a ghost of the girl who had once laughed and played in the forest with Kikyo. The promise she had made echoed in the void where her heart used to be — a constant reminder of what she had lost.
Kikyo was gone. And with her, Arleyong had lost herself. All that remained was an echo of a promise, trapped in a cage of emotionless despair.