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Home / Urban / REBIRTH OF THE PATHETIC HUSBAND / More than Just A Body
More than Just A Body
Author: EL JHAY
last update2025-05-07 04:52:13

I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Even after the sweat dried and the thundering in my chest quieted, my eyes stayed wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. The dream clung to me like thick smoke, refusing to fade. My mind kept playing it over and over—the way John moved with such confidence, the way his eyes burned red, the way he crumpled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I kept seeing the blood on his hand. I kept hearing his last breath.

I sat up on the couch, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped together. The house was quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts were loud. Louder than the ticking clock on the wall or the humming fridge. I didn't even realize how much time had passed until light began to seep through the curtains.

Then I heard footsteps.

Cynthia came down the stairs, her dark hair a tousled mess and her nightgown fluttering softly around her legs. She looked half-asleep, rubbing her eyes as she reached the bottom of the staircase—then pause
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  • The Beast Within

    The tires screeched violently as Cynthia floored the gas, and the car bolted forward like a bullet down the pitch-black road. Streetlights blurred past in streaks of yellow and white, the night sky above us clouded and heavy, offering no moonlight—just the eerie hum of rotors overhead and the thunderous roar of pursuit behind.I turned and looked into the rearview mirror.Six black SCID SUVs were barreling after us—beasts on wheels—each one lit up in a dizzying mix of red and blue. Their sirens howled like wolves in the night, gaining on us with terrifying precision.“They’re closing in,” I muttered.“I can see that,” Cynthia snapped, her hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.Then came the first burst of gunfire.A rapid spray of bullets tore through the quiet night—tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!—and the back windshield exploded into a web of shattered glass. I ducked immediately, shards raining down on my back and lap l

  • The Chase

    “Where are we headed?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, though my fingers itched near my belt—instinctively checking for a weapon I no longer carried. Something was definitely wrong, and I felt like Cynthia was about to betray me. Cynthia didn’t take her eyes off the road after I asked that question. “Calm the fuck down and stop thinking I'm going to betray you, 'cause if I wanted to do that, you'd have been a lab rat since yesterday," she said firmly, her tone serious. “We are only heading to my private apartment. We’ll be safe there for now.” I almost asked for the reason why we are heading to her apartment—not out of distrust, but because everything was moving too fast, and I needed context. But I stopped myself. In a situation like this, questions could be dangerous. The truth about me had nearly been torn open. If I hadn’t silenced Doctor Trevor when I did, the entire SCID would’ve known I wasn’t John Henderson… not really. They would

  • Betrayer?

    Without wasting another second, we slipped out of the lab and into the dimly lit hallway beyond. The flickering emergency lights still pulsed red every few seconds, painting the steel walls in a rhythm that made everything feel like we were trapped inside a heartbeat.Cynthia walked fast, purposeful—her boots echoing against the floor like steady drumbeats. I followed close behind, still feeling the faint buzz of energy running through my veins. The adrenaline from earlier had faded, but something new was settling in its place—clarity. A dangerous kind of awareness. Every sound felt louder, sharper. Every step calculated.“We’ll take the east corridor,” Cynthia said in a hushed voice. “There’s a shortcut through the bio-storage wing. Fewer cameras. Fewer people.”I nodded silently, scanning every corner as we moved. The base was huge—levels beneath the earth, miles of reinforced hallways, walls thick enough to survive a bombing. The SCID didn’t play games

  • CCTV FOOTAGE

    Trevor’s terrified eyes darted around the lab—searching—until they landed on a table lined with volatile-looking chemicals and experimental vials.I stepped forward, ready to intercept, but he bolted—a desperate, jerking sprint toward the far side of the lab.“Trevor—don’t!” Cynthia shouted, raising her weapon.But it was too late.He reached the table, scattering beakers and tools with a frantic sweep of his arm. His trembling hand grabbed a thick syringe filled with a glowing, viscous green liquid, bubbling ominously inside the glass. The moment I saw it, a chill swept through me.“STOP—!” I shouted, charging forward.But his hand shot to his neck.Ssshhhk—THUNK!The needle pierced flesh. He injected the serum with a violent push of the plunger.Silence.Everything froze. Even the alarms seemed to fall away.Cynthia and I stared in horror as Trevor dropped the syringe. It clattered t

  • Make Sure He Never Finds Out

    Everything was a blur.Shapes smeared into each other like wet paint. Voices echoed around me, distorted and muffled, like I was hearing the world from the bottom of a lake. My head throbbed—no, pulsed—with confusion and pain, like reality itself was struggling to piece itself back together inside my skull.—ohn…!Was that someone calling my name?—John! John, can you hear me?!I opened my eyes.Blurry light.Movement. Shadows.And then—her.The first thing that sharpened in my vision was Cynthia’s face. Framed by her dark hair, her expression was twisted with panic and something else—something I couldn’t place. She was shouting my name, over and over.“—you hear me?! Wake up! Please—!”My lids fluttered shut again, too heavy to keep open.Then—once more—I forced them open.This time, everything sharpened just a little more. The lights stopped spinning. The nausea rec

  • Dying Again

    I let out a soft sigh, casual, almost bored, like this whole confrontation was beneath me. I narrowed my eyes slightly and kept my voice low and controlled, channeling the real John’s signature arrogance. “You’re overthinking this, Trevor,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re smart, yeah, but you’re making a hell of a mistake.”He didn’t lower the gun.So I kept going, relaxed in posture but calculating inside. “John Henderson doesn’t grovel. He doesn’t panic. He doesn’t even blink when a gun’s in his face. You think you caught something? Then maybe you need to check again. Because all I see is a paranoid doctor playing detective without a badge.”But it wasn’t enough.I could tell.His eyes didn’t soften. His grip didn’t ease. That suspicion—sharp and hot—still burned in his gaze. And that’s when it hit me.The serum.I had just been injected with the mutant reactivation serum. Trevor himself said the serum not only restor

  • Who The Hell Are You?

    Cynthia's phone rang, its sharp chime slicing through the tense air like a scalpel. She glanced at the screen, frowned slightly, then looked at me.“Give me a minute,” she said, her voice low. “I have to take this.”Without waiting for a response, she turned and exited the room, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft mechanical hiss.And just like that, it was just me and Doctor Trevor.Shit.I cursed silently, locking my jaw to keep my expression neutral. Trevor hadn't said anything yet, but I could feel his eyes on me—studying, weighing, searching. I resisted the urge to fidget. I needed to keep it together.He didn’t speak. Instead, he turned slowly and walked over to a counter on the far side of the room. I watched him carefully as he picked up a small metal tin, flipped it open, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.He turned around and began walking toward me, the pack in one hand and an unreadable look on his face.When he stopped in front of me, he pulled out a cigarette

  • Mutant Reactivation

    The soles of my shoes hit the smooth pavement with a soft thud as I stepped out of the car. The morning air was crisp, laced with the faint scent of antiseptic and blooming hedges lining the hospital entrance. Towering above me was the very same building I had walked out of yesterday, dazed and disoriented in a body that wasn’t mine. Now, I was returning with a purpose.Cynthia stepped out beside me, shutting the car doors with a quiet hiss as they sealed behind us. Her expression was unreadable, all business now. The tension in her shoulders said everything—this wasn’t a social visit. Something about this place, or maybe who we were here to see, had her on high alert.“This way,” she said.We walked side by side toward the main entrance. The glass doors slid open automatically, revealing a pristine lobby bathed in natural light filtering through massive skylights above. Nurses in white and pale blue uniforms bustled about. A few armed guards in black suits stood subtly at key positio

  • Ready or Not

    Cynthia led me through a corridor at the back of the building—one I hadn’t noticed before. The walls were plain, sterile, the kind of place no one gave a second glance. But when we reached the end, she pressed her palm against a discreet panel on the wall.With a soft mechanical click, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a sleek elevator with a brushed black interior. She stepped in, and I followed without a word. As the doors closed behind us, a slight hum began, and the elevator dropped smoothly beneath the building.When the doors opened, I was hit with a view that made my jaw tighten and eyes widen.“Holy shit…”It was an underground garage—no, a showroom. Easily the size of a football field, with pristine white floors reflecting the ceiling lights in a glossy sheen. Lined up in perfect rows were dozens of vehicles, all futuristic, low to the ground, and glistening like predator beasts waiting to be unleashed. Sleek black coupes with sh

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