Chapter 4

Late at night.

I lay on my plain white bed, but my body felt like it was trapped in an invisible cage.

The nightmares hit me like a tidal wave.

*“Subject 734. Violation of solitary containment protocol. Thinking unauthorized thoughts.”*

*“Punishment: Waterboarding...”*

*“No... please...”*

*“Alert! Alert! Emotional fluctuation exceeds limit! Initiating electroshock therapy...”*

I began to thrash violently on the bed. Cold sweat poured down my forehead, and my teeth gritted so hard they made a grinding sound.

"It hurts... I'm sorry... I'll be good..." I muttered incoherently.

My parents were startled awake in the next room.

They rushed into my bedroom, flipped on the lights, and were horrified by the sight of me in agony.

"Tyler!"

My mom let out a sob, tears instantly streaming down her face.

She threw herself onto the bed, reaching out to hold me and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

"Tyler, don't be scared. Mommy's here. Mommy's here..."

But the moment her hand touched my skin, my eyes snapped open.

Those eyes weren't empty anymore. They were filled with an absolute, terrifying panic and pain.

Like a wild animal cornered in a trap.

"Alert! Alert! Violation of Protocol Three! Unnecessary contact with strangers!"

I used every ounce of my strength to shove her away.

"Initiating Level Two Punishment!"

A shrill siren seemed to blast inside my brain.

I bolted upright, gripping my head with both hands, and my body began to convulse violently.

My jaw clenched so hard it clicked, and animalistic groans forced their way out of my throat.

It was a pure, physiological reaction to extreme pain.

My parents were completely paralyzed with horror.

They stood frozen, watching me convulse and twitch on the bed, not daring to take a single step forward.

After what felt like an eternity, the convulsions suddenly stopped.

I released my head, sat up perfectly straight like a soldier, and the agonizing panic in my eyes instantly vanished back into a dead, hollow void.

It was as if the brutal struggle from a moment ago had been nothing but a hallucination.

I looked up at their terrified faces and said in a chillingly calm voice:

"System glitch resolved."

"Please leave. It is currently designated rest hours."

My dad's lips trembled, but he couldn't form a single word.

My mom collapsed onto the floor, staring at the empty shell of her son. A deep, bone-chilling coldness crept from her toes straight to her chest.

This was the hell they had built for me, all in the name of "discipline."

My dad sat in the living room and called Dr. Vance all night, but nobody picked up.

It wasn't until 9:00 AM the next morning that the call finally went through.

"Vance! What the hell did you do to my son?!" my dad screamed into the phone. "What is this punishment mechanism?!"

On the other end of the line, Dr. Vance’s voice sounded incredibly polite, almost amused.

"Mr. Miller, please calm down. That is just our latest 'Deep Sleep Therapy.' It uses subconscious conditioning to correct unwanted behaviors. A few minor rejection side effects are perfectly normal."

"Normal?! He was convulsing like a lunatic! He was screaming about electroshocks and waterboarding!" My dad's voice shook with pure rage.

The laughter on the phone vanished. Dr. Vance’s tone turned ice-cold.

"Mr. Miller, let me remind you that *you* were the one who demanded we use the most efficient, absolute methods to make him 'normal.' You signed the papers."

My dad's breath hitched.

Dr. Vance continued slowly, his voice like a slithering snake.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention. My son just got a full ride to MIT. He's heading to Boston next month."

"We really have to thank you for that generous three-million-dollar donation. Our family will always remember your kindness."

It was a blatant, naked threat.

Using his own son's future and that three-million-dollar "donation" to shut my dad up.

My dad slammed the phone down.

I heard the dull thud of his fist hitting the wooden desk, followed by his ragged, heavy breathing.

He was trapped, completely helpless against the monster he had personally funded.

Meanwhile, my mom was losing her mind.

She searched frantically on Google and Twitter for any information on "New Life Academy."

But other than the glowing, heavily moderated reviews on their official website, she found absolutely nothing.

Just as she was about to give up, she stumbled upon an encrypted underground forum for parents.

She paid a hacker to bypass the password.

Inside, she found a hell completely different from the polished website.

Row after row, post after post, of pure agony and blood.