“Crashed Part 19“
He couldn’t get to sleep that night.
That strange suit… the woman inside it… the secrecy—something didn’t add up.
I should have asked more questions, he told himself, again and again.
Dr. Carlson Britt lay staring into the dark, replaying the moment his hand met the material. The energy. Faint, vibe like adjustment.
Not fabric. Not armor.
Something else.
He sat up.
Whatever that was… it didn’t belong here.
And now—
Neither did he.
He reached for his phone.
“Ken.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m coming back.”
Ken thought for a moment.
“…Alright.”
When Britt stepped into the room, nothing had changed—
Yet everything had.
Patty stood near the window. Ken was by the bed.
Cellima lay where he had left her.
But the room felt different now.
Quieter.
“How is she?” Britt asked, setting his bag down.
“Same,” Patty said. “She’s holding… but barely.”
Britt nodded and stepped in, giving her a quick check—pulse, breathing, stability.
All routine.
All controlled.
But his eyes drifted.
Back to the suit.
Still intact.
Still… wrong.
He straightened slightly, glancing between Ken and Patty.
“If she crashes,” he said calmly, “you’ll call an ambulance.”
Ken nodded. “Yes.”
Britt held his gaze.
“And how do you explain that?”
Patty looked down at the suit.
“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out,” she said.
Britt folded his arms, thinking.
“You can’t walk into a hospital with that on her,” he continued. “You’d never make it past intake.”
Ken exhaled. “So what are we supposed to do?”
No one answered.
Because they all knew the problem now.
It wasn’t just her condition.
It was the suit.
Patty said it first.
“We need to separate her from it.”
Britt didn’t respond.
But his eyes didn’t leave it.
Ken shook his head slightly. “Yeah… but how? And then what? We just… get rid of it?”
Britt spoke up.
“You don’t ‘get rid of’ something like that.”
Both of them looked at him.
He didn’t elaborate.
Didn’t need to.
They understood.
That was when—
Cellima moved.
Barely.
But enough.
Patty turned immediately. “Hey… stay with me…”
Cellima’s eyes opened.
Focused.
Not fully strong—but present.
She looked at Patty first.
Then Ken.
Then—
Britt.
They were still talking about her.
Around her.
Planning.
She watched them for a second.
Then, quietly—
“I need clothing… like yours… Miss Patty.”
The room froze.
No one had expected that.
Patty stepped closer. “You need to rest—”
“You are discussing the wrong problem,” Cellima said, her voice thin but steady.
She shifted her eyes again.
Settling on Britt.
“No one knows the doctor.”
Ken frowned slightly.
Cellima continued, slower now—
“If he has no issue… he takes it.”
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Patty looked at Britt.
Ken did the same.
Britt didn’t move.
Didn’t rush.
He met Cellima’s gaze.
Measured.
Careful.
“That’s not something you ask lightly,” he said.
It wasn’t refusal.
But it wasn’t acceptance either.
Cellima held his eyes.
“You already decided,” she said.
No one spoke.
Because whether he had said it or not—
They all felt it.
Outside—
A car passed.
Slow.
Too slow.
Ken glanced toward the window.
“Someone’s been circling,” he muttered.
Patty’s expression tightened.
Britt didn’t look away from the bed.
The suit.
The decision.
Everything had shifted.
And now—
There wasn’t time to pretend it hadn’t.