Her Final Experiment: Their Regret Novels & Stories

Why did he hate me so much? “I’m sorry,” I apologized in a small voice. Tears were flowing down my cheeks now. He looked at me in disgust. My body was trembling as I sobbed. “We can get a DNA test done if you don’t believe me,” I said in a shaky voice. “I swear it’s your child. I wanted you to know before the principal sends the report to your mom.” “Shit!” Matt yelled, kicking the toilet door. While I stood there sobbing, a group of boys walked toward us, chatting in a loud voice, but they stopped immediately when they saw Matt and me standing at the door.

“Yes, it was something huge, but sadly, there were some setbacks. I should have called, but I thought it would be resolved by the time you got here. As they say, you win some and you lose some. There’s not much you can do about it.” She nodded her head. “That’s true. They also say at first you don’t succeed, you try again. Can you tell us what it was about, or you don’t want to jinx your progress? It’s not something illegal, is it? Say like human experimentation?” She snuck that question in to take a dig at him. His smile tightened into a small frown. “No, nothing of the sort. I could still give you the details, but as you said it could jinx my progress.”

"Ten minutes to detonation." "Are you insane?!" I shouted. Patricia laughed again. “Yes! Yes, I think I am! Isn’t it wonderful? Thirty years of my life spent being rational, logical, scientific… and where did it get me? Nothing but failure and betrayal.” She grabbed James before I could stop her. "No!" I lunged forward, but enhanced soldiers blocked me. Patricia held my son like a doll. "The thing about experiments, Garrett, is that sometimes they fail. Sometimes… you have to start over. On a clean slate. New subjects."

“Structural insight variable.” Her stomach turned. “You’re using us.” “No.” A calm pause. “You are using each other.” The Final Blow “You want to break the experiment,” the consultant said softly. “Yes.” “That has been attempted before.” Her pulse pounded. “By who?” He met her eyes directly. “You.” Silence crushed the room. “In a previous cycle, you discovered recalibration mechanics.” Her knees felt weak. “You tried to destabilize beyond threshold.” “And?” “You succeeded.” Hope flared, Until he finished.

Dosages, timelines, and even observations about Beatrice’s declining health written with a clinical attachment: *Day 47: Experiment showing increased fatigue. Dosage slightly reduced to avoid arousing suspicion.* *Day 89: Digestive issues worsening. Excellent progress.* *Day 152: Experiment bedridden. Estimate two more weeks until the final outcome.* Experiment. She called my dying wife an ‘experiment’ instead of a person. She labeled the woman I loved more than my own life an ‘experiment’. She is going to pay dearly for everything she has done.

His mouth curved into a mocking smile as he raised one of his eyebrows and repeated, "Give. It. To. Me." "I was Velon Aspen's ex-wife and I came to take a belonging of mine which I forgot. I'm sorry if we trespassed." Queenie said, refusing to give him the satisfaction that she recognized him. While in Deborah's grasp, the woman had told her a lot of things. Hundreds of children were used for the experiment, hundreds of them died and only a few survived. Unfortunately, she had no idea how many survived since they were separated just before her mother was about to give them the last dose of the medicine. But she knew they didn't exceed ten.

I wanted to draw out her throat and stop her from saying anything else but I sat still and listened as she began to spew words, "Didn't Aiden tell you or do I have to do that again? We have yet to achieve perfection in our experiment and that has been quite discouraging, sadly. But then you came along with your pregnancy and we thought it would be a good idea to carry out our experiment on your baby while you watch". I nearly screamed but I held back a sobbing gasp, different scenarios sprung up and I tried banishing them but to no avail. I got on my knees and started pleading, begging,

she whispered to herself. After a few blocks, the anger gave way to exhaustion. Her feet ached. The road stretched endlessly ahead. She sighed and muttered, “I’ll just get Cora to drive me back to the car.” That made sense. It made the walk feel like something temporary. But as the minutes passed, regret crept in. The air was colder now. Her hair whipped across her face. The pavement gleamed under the streetlights, still wet from the evening drizzle. Her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to fight the chill.

She whispered in disbelief, "That's the exclusive rosary of the Mercer family's head. She… She really is Vivian Mercer!" Her face went ghostly pale. She hit the ground on her knees and crawled toward my mother. "Ms. Mercer! I was wrong! I really was wrong! I didn't recognize who he was. I'm a fool!" Her pleas tumbled out, frantic and disjointed. "For the three years Julian and I have been together, please spare me this once! I love him! I truly love him!" "Love him?" My mother's voice froze the air around her. "Love him? Is that why you tampered with his medicine? Love him? Is that why you made him crawl on the ground like a dog? Love him? Is that why you broke his rib?"

They had all dedicated themselves to their country, so why couldn't I do the same? I cut him off, not out of rudeness, but because I'd already made up my mind. "Dr. Morgan, I've considered all the concerns you've raised. I don't have parents, children, or even close friends. There's nothing keeping me from moving forward." As I said that, I thought of Simon. My chest tightened with that familiar ache. Maybe it was because we were about to part ways, but all I could think about were the good memories. Whenever I tried to forgive him, I always thought of his 32 mistresses. Tears welled up, and I fought to hold back the pain.