[Kael – Two Days After the Incident]
He sat on the edge of the bed in his new room, staring at the framed name on the folder that sat in his lap.
Michael Kyle Redfield
Age: 12
Status: Orphaned – No known relatives
'Michael. Kyle. Redfield.'
He repeated the name silently, letting it roll around in his thoughts. It didn't feel strange—he'd been human once. He understood how names worked. How records were forged. But the speed of it all unsettled him.
The humans had given him a past he never lived. And they did it fast.
Only two days had passed since the portal. Since the blood. Since the screams. Since he crawled into that closet, body shaking with "fear". And already, they'd wrapped him in a label and handed him over.
His "foster family" seemed decent. A woman named Lauren, kind and soft-spoken, and her partner Jonas, quieter but polite. They'd welcomed him into their home with rehearsed warmth and careful smiles. There were photos on the wall. A dog. A second bedroom already cleaned and ready for him.
Kael hasn't asked for any of thid.
He simply played the part.
Officer Baines—now referred to as "Uncle Baines" by Lauren—had apparently been close to them for years. That part confused him. Everything had fallen into place too quickly. Too conveniently.
But he didn't ask questions.
And Baines didn't seem to have any either.
[POV: Officer Baines]
He tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as he waited outside the house. The kid was coming down any minute.
He still hadn't been able to shake the image of the boy sitting in that closet—how calm he was. How… steady. Not like a normal traumatized kid.
But the paperwork was in order. The name, the guardianship, the background report. Somehow, everything had processed without a hitch.
The city didn't care as long as it looked clean on paper.
And now, he was taking "Michael" to a licensed therapist. A trauma specialist.
Baines had requested it personally. Said it was important the kid got help. Said it was what the boy needed.
But deep down, he knew therapy wasn't really for—the kid… it was for his own nagging suspicion.
[Kael – In the Car, Quietly Watching]
Kael sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap. He watched the streets roll by, the world so bright and clean compared to Hell's choking skies. People jogged on sidewalks. Children laughed across the street. Car horns, chatter, life.
It was all so... familiar.
Yet distant.
"Ever been to a therapist before?" Baines asked casually.
Kael shook his head. "I don't remember."
Baines nodded like that made sense. "She's good. Dr. Halloway. You can talk to her about anything. Don't feel pressured."
Kael didn't answer. His mind wandered.
He didn't need a therapist. He didn't feel broken.
But if this was part of the act... he'd follow it.
One step at a time.