Her voice rose. The entire class turned to the back of the room. Alyssa slowly lifted her head, but instead of answering, she collapsed onto the desk.
One drop of blood fell from her nose onto her notebook. Then a second. Then a third, until blood dripped in a long streak onto the classroom floor.
The school nurse immediately called an ambulance. At St. Joseph’s Hospital, Dr. Michael Smith a neurologist recently relocated from Denver took over the case. Alyssa lay motionless on the gurney, her face pale, nose packed with gauze.
Martha had just arrived, wearing her signature fake look of panic. What happened? I told you she was mentally unstable. Are you trying to kill her? She shrieked at the nurses.
Dr. Smith stepped forward, speaking calmly. We’re examining her now. She’s showing signs of blood loss, inflamed nasal tissue, and some abnormal movement inside the nasal cavity.
Movement? What do you mean by movement? A kind of soft tissue twitching. I need to conduct a deep endoscopy to determine the cause. No.
Absolutely not. Martha cut in, eyes wide. She’s had trauma and imagines all sorts of crazy things.
She claims there’s an eye in her nose, or roots. You really believe a delusional child? Smith paused for a moment and stared directly at Martha. But this is the third severe nosebleed.
And this time, there’s a foul odor. If we don’t investigate, it could be life-threatening. I’m her legal guardian.
I do not consent to any kind of surgery. Alyssa woke up to the harsh glare of fluorescent hospital lights above her. She groaned softly.
Smith leaned down. You’re awake. Do you remember your name? Alyssa.
Alyssa Wilson. Good. How are you feeling? My head hurts, and my nose, it feels like something’s boiling inside.
She turned her head to see Martha standing behind the doctor, her face ice cold. Alyssa bit her lip and looked at Smith. Can I talk to the doctor alone? No.
Martha snapped. If she’s got something to say, I’m staying right here to hear it. I want to talk, about what’s in my nose.
Smith signaled to the nurse. Please escort Ms. Martha outside for a moment. I object.
Martha shouted. I’m her mother. You’re her guardian, not a physician.
This is a medical protocol, Smith said firmly. Once they were alone, Alyssa slowly sat up, trembling. Doctor, do you believe me? Just tell me the truth.
There’s something living inside my nose. It moves. I saw it in the mirror.
I even recorded it once, but my mom smashed my phone. Smith sat down beside her, his face serious. You said you saw it.
Once it looked like roots twitching gently. Another time. I saw an eye.
A human eye staring straight at me. He paused. A part of him wanted to dismiss it but Alyssa’s eyes weren’t delusional.
They were full of desperate pleading. Hours later, Smith made his decision, to perform a nasal endoscopy without notifying Martha in advance. He scheduled Alyssa for a private exam at the clinic he worked with.
That afternoon, in the endoscopy room, Smith prepared the equipment while nurse Emily stood by. Alyssa sat in a chair, her heart pounding. Will it hurt? she asked.
It’ll be a little uncomfortable. But you’re a brave girl. The camera began to descend into her left nasal passage.
The screen displayed normal structures at first, swollen membranes, a few old scratches. Then the image began to glitch. Emily, check the signal.
The equipment’s fine, doctor. It’s not the machine. All three stared at the screen.
Something shadowy began to appear in the moist darkness of her nasal cavity. Suddenly, a human eye snapped open, staring directly into the camera. Alyssa screamed.
There. That’s it. I told you.
The eye blinked once, then disappeared behind a thin, membrane-like tissue. Smith recoiled slightly, hands trembling. Cold sweat gathered on his forehead.
My God, what the hell? Emily whispered, that’s not human tissue. Alyssa gasped, holding her face, her whole body shaking. I’m not crazy, you saw it, didn’t you? Smith sat beside her and nodded slowly.
You’re not crazy. But this thing, this goes far beyond conventional medicine. This isn’t a disease.
This is, a living organism. That evening, when Alyssa returned home, Martha was waiting in the kitchen with a belt in her hand. Where were you? Sneaking around like a damn rat.
I, went to see the doctor. Without my permission. Who said you could go? Dr. Smith, he knows now, he saw it.
Martha froze. Her expression changed instantly from rage to panic. He, saw what? The eye, in my nose.
Martha stepped forward, grabbing Alyssa’s shoulders hard. You listen to me, you little bitch. If you ever open your mouth again, I’ll make you disappear just like your father.
Got it? Alyssa looked straight at her, tears streaming down her face. What did you do to my father? None of your damn business. That night, Smith sat alone in his office.
He played back the recorded endoscopy footage. Over and over again. The eye was not a hallucination.
He pulled Alyssa’s hospital records from the system. There were signs of file tampering. Strange, the endoscopy from when she was six is almost completely deleted.
He dug through the list of past attending physicians. One name stood out, Dr. Johnson. Smith murmured, Johnson, why does that sound familiar? He found an old file and discovered, Johnson had once been under internal investigation for suspected involvement in unauthorized neurological experiments on children.
But even more shocking, in the research center staff roster that year, another name appeared Martha Parker, research assistant. Smith froze. He understood now, Alyssa wasn’t just a typical patient.
She might be the surviving victim of a buried experiment. He stood up and pulled out his phone. Alyssa, if you have anything videos, even fragments of that organism I need it.
We have to go public. The next morning, Chicago was draped in gray. In a small room inside Dr. Smith’s private clinic, Alyssa sat curled up on a chair, wrapped in a gray hoodie.
Under the flickering fluorescent lights, her eyes were sunken, and her nose was covered with gauze pads. Smith was checking the endoscopy equipment one last time. He spoke gently.
This time, we’ll record the entire procedure. If it’s like what we saw last night, this will be the evidence. But if Martha finds out, Alyssa whispered, her voice trembling.
I’ll protect you. You just have to trust me. Nurse Emily nodded and added softly.
Don’t worry, Alyssa. You’re not alone anymore. The endoscopy began.
This time, the scope was inserted deeper into her left nasal cavity. The screen displayed crystal-clear images, down to the tiniest capillaries. Smith frowned.
A dark mass came into view. It didn’t resemble coral or necrotic tissue. It looked like an independent living organism, with its own cellular structure, glistening with bioluminescence.
Suddenly, an eye snapped open in the center of the dark mass, staring directly into the lens. Emily gasped. Oh my god, it really has an eye.
Smith jumped to his feet, his hands trembling. The eye blinked once clear, deliberate as if it were looking back at them. Alyssa trembled in her seat.
It, it knows you’re watching. I can feel it. Smith immediately turned off the equipment.
That’s enough. We got the footage. He saved the video, encrypted it, and copied it to three separate devices, an external hard drive, a USB stick, and an encrypted cloud server.
Emily whispered. Doctor, this isn’t a typical parasite. It’s… neurologically integrated.
Smith nodded gravely. It’s living within her olfactory nerve. Anne, it’s conscious.
Alyssa clutched her head. I can’t sleep. It talks to me, not with words, with feelings.
It forces me to keep it alive. After arranging for Alyssa to temporarily stay at Mrs. Teresa’s house, Smith called an old friend Dr. Paul Davis, an expert in extreme neurobiology who had once worked with the National Research Institute. Paul, I need to ask you something.
Do you remember Johnson’s project back in 2016? You mean the… neural circuit project? Yes. The one involving parasites capable of interfacing with human neural systems. Paul went silent for a moment.
That project was shut down. All findings sealed. Johnson had his license revoked for implanting unapproved tissue in child test subjects.
Why are you bringing this up? Because I’m looking at what might be the only surviving result of that project. A 12-year-old girl. I have video.
There’s an eye inside her nasal tissue. Paul fell completely silent. Meanwhile, Martha was still unaware the video had been saved.
She stormed into Alyssa’s room, tearing through everything looking for phones, recorders, any trace of evidence. You think you’re smarter than me, she screamed into the empty air. You think you’re gonna get away.
While rummaging under the pillow, Martha found a neatly folded paper, an old blood test result from when Alyssa was six. The data was blurry, but the hospital’s national seal was still visible. Martha ripped it apart and burned it in an ashtray.
No one can know, no one. That evening, Smith called Alyssa. I’ve contacted someone who can help.
But I need more data. I want to get a CT scan of your head. I’m not sure Martha will let that happen.
We don’t need her permission anymore. Smith sent an emergency request to a private diagnostic imaging center he worked with. Under the category of a medical emergency, he brought Alyssa in for a brain scan.
When the images appeared on the screen, Emily’s face turned pale. Doctor, her olfactory nerve is completely encased in an abnormal structure. Not just encased, Smith muttered.