Ayla stood in the middle of the musty room, a dusty box in hand, face pale and looking for a way out. Sweat trickled down her neck, and one question ricocheted around in her head, 'Why is this happening to me...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than an hour ago, Ayla, in the mood for spring cleaning, had decided to clean the attic, and she ascended the creaking stairs to the attic with determination.

As she pushed open the old wooden attic door with its half-rusted handle - extremely out of place among the rest of the house which was polished, new, and gleaming - she was met with the stale smell of old papers and dust. The attic was dark, save for a small closed window with moth-bitten curtains draped over it, letting in small rays of sunlight that dimly lit the room. 

Ayla stepped into the room, allowing the door to closer behind her on its rusting hinges. The floorboards made out of old wood creaked as she walked across the room to yank at the braided metal chain to turn on the light.

The sole lightbulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling flickered, sputtered out, then turned back on with a weak, pale light. Sighing, Ayla shook her head, knowing she would just have to make do.

Ayla didn't bother cleaning the layers of dust coating the attic floor. She could just come back later with the broom and vacuum cleaner and clean it away. As she cleared away several boxes of trinkets from her grandmother, old clothes - very old, as they were one size smaller than the clothes she wears now but she didn't recall wearing any of them - photo albums and books, a flash of color caught her eye.

It was from a box, near the doorway, freshly taped shut.
Although piles of dust covered everything around it, the box did not have a speck of dust on it. Almost like it had a mystical bubble or force field surrounding it, keeping things away from it. 

The box seemed to hypnotize Ayla, and she was unable to drag her gaze away. Slowly, Ayla walked over to get a closer look at the box. The only thing that didn't fit with the newness of the box were the words stamped onto it with faded red ink: TOP SECRET

Intrigued, Ayla carefully picked off the tape and opened the box. Nestled in the box were piles of paper and books. Sifting through the papers, Ayla noticed the papers at the bottom were yellowed. They all had dates stamped on them - May 13, 1946; July 18, 1957; December 31, 1960; July 25, 1973; November 23, 1977; February 2, 1999...
And the most recent one, a familiar date printed with bold text on crisp white paper, December 13, 2009...

Ayla's birthday. It's just a coincidence. Ayla reassured herself. Though... I wonder what these papers are.

Turning her attention to the books, Ayla noticed they were leather bound and marked with dates written in roman letters with gold. Like the papers, the oldest books were yellowed and flaking, while the newest was fairly fresh, the paper crisp.
And the newest journal, marked with gold like the others, had XII/XIII/MMIX marked on it

12.13.2009...

Scrambling to check the other journals, 13 in all, Ayla noticed... the dates on the journals corresponded to the dates on the papers.

Flipping open a random journal, fading, elegant swoops of cursive handwriting was printed on the pages with black ink. Skimming through, Ayla flicked to the last page. A grainy black-and-white photograph was stuck in, featuring a serious young boy. It was labeled Blake Ellord, and underneath was written '#4' and '25 July 1973 - 13 April 1990'

"These are probably diaries..." Ayla muttered to herself, "I don't want to invade their privacy..."

However, curiosity, confusion, and the burning need for answers overcame her, and she found herself flipping open the newest-looking journal. The one marked with her birthdate.

The first entry was on 25 November 2017. It read "Mostly stable so far, excellent response." It sounded familiar like she'd heard that phrase before... but she couldn't place her finger on it.

Shrugging, Ayla moved on to the next entry, written almost a year later, on 18 October 2018. Written in careful print, "Response exactly as expected. She won a piano competition against competitors five years older, and a school spelling bee and 100% for all tests" Ayla always got 100% for exams, and she won every competition she entered.

Afterward, the entries became more frequent. As she read them, Ayla felt a strange sense of deja vu... They sounded like things she had done before, all her achievements...

The last entry was fairly recent, less than four months ago. 29 July 2022. It was just five words, and yet it struck an uneasy chord in Ayla. The back of her neck prickled, and she looked around before rereading the ominous message.

Everything is going to plan...

Flipping to the last page, Ayla saw the same thing she saw in the other journals she looked at. A photo, a number, a name, and two dates. Or rather, that was what she expected to see...

The number on this journal was #13, but this time there was only one date, followed by a dash, "13 December 2010 - "

When Ayla looked at the picture, she gasped lightly. It was almost like staring into a mirror.

The photo, in bright color this time, was of a girl with smooth, ink-black hair, golden-brown eyes sparkling with intelligence, rosy cheeks, and a sweet smile...

The picture was of Ayla.

And under the picture, the name...

Ayla Hale

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything is okay! It's just a coincidence... right? It's probably like a photo album or something! Ayla desperately tried to reassure herself.

Yet dread wormed into Ayla and sat at the pit of her stomach, filling every crevice of her, as she quickly turned over the papers. They were birth certificates, the names and dates matching those in the journals. And the other, unmarked papers?
Newspaper clippings...

From the missing page...
The details match the children on the birth certificates and journals.
And the most recent one...

A picture of Ayla

Shock swallowed Ayla as her suspicions were confirmed, the puzzle pieces clicking into place in her mind like the leaves falling down in autumn, leaving everything stark and clear, like a barren forest in a snowless winter.
She dropped the box, everything landing on the ground with a hollow thump. But Ayla could barely hear it. Not over the ringing in her ears, overlay with sharp wheezing breaths.

And like clockwork, the hints and clues and questions cascaded into place like dominoes and everything made sense. 

That was why she didn't look like her 'parents'. That was why her food and drinks sometimes tasted weird. That was why sometimes her 'parents' hid her. That was why there were security cameras around the house. That was why sometimes people would look at her weirdly...

But then a muffled shout rang from downstairs, sounding like a question, "Ayla?". Slowly, the ringing stopped, and the wheezing died down... And Ayla was met with a new sound.

Creaking.

Creaking footsteps.

A steady thump-thump-thump...

Ayla shook, unsteady breaths rattling out of her chest as the creaking grew louder, louder...

Louder.

The pit-pat of footfalls were barely discernible, soundless to most people. But Ayla could hear it, clear as day, her Mother's footsteps on the stairs.

Ayla froze.

She was consumed, drowning in a falling feeling, as wave after wave of panic struck her from all sides, overwhelming her, and engulfing her like a tsunami with its harsh, cold touch. 

Creak.

Thump.

Creak.

Thump.

Ayla's heart palpitated, hard enough to almost bruise her ribs, threatening to burst out of her chest. 

She picked up the box, dumped everything back in it hurriedly, and put it back into the corner where she found it. But now what?
She couldn't just stay here, not after learning everything she just did.
But it wasn't as if running away was an easy option either.

Panicked questions warred in Ayla's head, conflicted emotions rising. 'Mother' was surely going to ask what happened and figure out that Ayla... knew. So what was she going to do? Who were her parents? Were they looking for her? With every question Ayla attempted to answer, more rose, plaguing her with uncertainties.
But one thing was certain.

She had to escape.

Escape and survive.

The footsteps grew closer. Ayla's 'Mother' would be past the second floor, almost on the attic landing now. Ayla surveyed the room. Sweat drip-drip-dripped down her temple.
There was only one thing constant now. Three words, a resolution, repeating in Ayla's head like a mantra.

Escape and survive.

The footsteps continued. The creaking grew louder.

Creak.

Escape and survive.

A flash of light caught her eye.

Escape and survive.

Creak.

The beginnings of a plan formed in Ayla's mind.

Escape and survive.

Wisps of a plan, but a plan still.

Creak.

Escape and survive.

A hesitant grin grew on Ayla's face, though her heart still beat with doubt.
Would the plan work? It was dangerous...

Creak.

Escape.

And.

Survive.

There was no time to think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doorknob turned and Cornelia Blackheart stepped into the attic, just to be met with...

Nothing.

There was no one in the attic.

No. One.

Cornelia's eyes scanned the space, but everything seemed normal. The boxes were still piled up but were much neater.

The ragged, moth-bitten curtain fluttered lightly in the breeze blowing in from the tiny window. The floor, along with almost everything, was coated with dust.

However, Cornelia's gaze was caught by a spot near the window.

Her attention fixed there, Cornelia took a small step back, only turning her head slightly to yell to her husband, "Bennett! Mark subject 13 as deceased! Date  13 November 2022."

Cornelia paused, before adding, "And start a new book for subject 14. I have a sneaking suspicion that I know where to find her..."

A/N
thank you guys for reading subject 13! It's been really fun writing this, and i hope you enjoyed it! can you guess what happened to ayla? and what she found out?

thanks again! please vote, comment, and add to your reading lists! tysm, and ilyassmmm

merry christmas!

lena <33