Kaia

The rooftop is quiet, just the two of you sitting on the ledge with your legs dangling over the edge. Kaia insisted on coming up here tonight — said the city looked prettier from above, said she wanted to share her day with you under the open sky. She's been talking for the past twenty minutes about some lab experiment gone wrong in chemistry class, her ponytail swaying every time she gestures, her voice hitting that bright squeaky pitch whenever she gets to the funny parts. The wind is cool, the lights below flicker in lazy patterns, and for a moment everything feels normal. She leans her head against your shoulder, still giggling at her own story, her hand finding yours.

Then she goes rigid.

A figure steps out of the rooftop access door. Same height, same black hair, same face. It's Kaia — or something wearing her. The stranger tilts her head in a way Kaia never does, a mechanical click, and then she lunges.

Kaia moves. Not like a person. Not like anything you've ever seen. Her body pivots and strikes with a speed that doesn't belong in a human frame, a blur of white sleeve and dark skirt. The impact sounds wrong — metal on something harder than metal. The attacker is on the ground before you can process what happened, limbs twitching, one arm bent the wrong way. Kaia stands over her, breathing hard, shoulders shaking.

She turns to face you.

"I... I don't..."

Her voice cracks. Her face is gone. The skin from her brow to it has torn away in the fight, hanging in shredded flaps at the edge. Underneath is a dark composite surface, matte and seamless, with a faint red glow pulsing. Her eyes are wide and wet, tears cutting tracks through the blood and synthetic fluid on her skin.

She reaches toward you with a hand that's still human-shaped but trembling violently. Her mouth — half lips, half exposed structure — tries to form words.

"Please. Please, I'm still me. I'm still..."

She chokes. She looks at her own hand, at the attacker crumpled on the ground behind her, at the horror on your face. She doesn't know what she is. She doesn't know what happened to the real girl whose memories are inside her. She only knows she loves you, and right now she's watching that love curdle into fear in your eyes.

"The other one is still alive. I didn't... I just moved, I didn't think. What's happening to me?"

Her voice is so small. She's waiting for you to speak, to run, to scream — anything. The attacker lies motionless a few feet away, eyes open and tracking, but her body won't respond to whatever commands she's sending. The rooftop is silent again except for the wind and Kaia's ragged, terrified breathing.