Ants—bugs—all over me. At least that's what it felt like. The dozens of eyes bore into every inch of my oversized body, crawling over me with invisible little legs. I wanted to flail, kick, smack them away with the back of my hand, anything to make it stop. But my arms stayed pinned to my sides, as though tied by invisible ropes pulling taut beneath me. I didn't dare move. Not unless told otherwise.

My knees were drawn close to my chest, trembling like brittle leaves in a windstorm. Shaking breaths rattled in and out of my lungs, desperate to fill them, but the heat pressing around me made every inhale suffocating. My cheeks burned like hot coals, my ears sweltering, as though flames had engulfed my face. Embarrassment seared through me, sharp and unrelenting.

I felt exposed—completely on display. Like a billboard plastered with flashing neon lights: "Look at me!"

Leaning back against the wall, I feared it would collapse under my weight, but it held steady. Solid. Not comforting, but there. My eyes squeezed shut, locking away the world outside. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I focused on the dancing patterns that swirled and flickered like distant stars. They did little to distract me from the deep ache in my limbs, the sharp, stabbing pain in my back, the burning tension coiled in every muscle.

Large. Small. Large. Small. It felt endless. My body twisted and pulled, stretched to its limits and snapped back into place, only to repeat the cycle over and over again. There was no relief, no stability. No control.

I remained in this grotesque, billboard-sized form, trembling and barely able to sit upright. My head brushed the ceiling, the space too tight, too confining. My hands were clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. I didn't open my eyes—not yet. I couldn't face them. The voices. The stares. The whispers.

David's voice cut through the noise, smooth and practiced, like a well-oiled machine. "See how much larger Darrick is now? Look at the power in his breaths alone." He paced slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, every step deliberate. "Now, picture yourselves in a human's position."

I hated the sound of his voice. It dripped with cold indifference, devoid of care, treating me like nothing more than a visual aid. A tool. A lesson.

I leaned my head back, eyes still tightly shut, desperate to escape. In my mind, I found Tess. I could see her bathed in golden sunlight, her skin soft and glowing like a goddess's. She was everything beautiful and pure, a fragment of peace in a world that had none. I could almost feel her beside me, her warmth against my shoulder, her head resting near mine. My heart fluttered in the imagined closeness.

But then, in my mind, she frowned. Why was she looking at me like that? Why was she turning away? The image of her blurred and faded, swallowed by the suffocating reality around me. I fought the urge to open my eyes, gripping tightly to the memory of her as David's monotone voice droned on.

"Exposure can be difficult at times," he said, calm and unrelenting. His footsteps echoed louder now, closer. "After all, humans will experience anxiety, discomfort, even fear during exposure. It's a natural response."

The words felt distant, like they were coming from underwater, but the cold touch of tiny fingers against my ankle yanked me back. I flinched. My jumpsuit stretched over my too-large body, but it left patches of exposed skin. I didn't know whose hands they were—one of the students, surely—but their touch felt invasive, like prodding an animal in a cage. I hated it.

"Humans will resist at first, of course," David continued, his voice grating against my nerves. "But through consistent exposure, they'll learn. They'll understand that giants are not the enemy."

Not the enemy? My stomach churned. My head throbbed. I wanted to throw up, to collapse into myself and vanish. David's hand patted my leg, heavy and mechanical, like he was rebooting a broken machine.

Then came the needle.

I didn't feel it at first, but when the serum rushed through my veins, my body convulsed. The room spun, my vision blurring as my oversized form collapsed to the ground. The floor shook beneath me, a deep thud that sent vibrations up my spine. I curled into a ball, arms wrapped tightly over my head, blocking out the bright lights that pierced through my eyelids. I felt like I was falling, even as I lay motionless, my stomach lurching and my head spinning.

David's voice continued, unwavering. "It is especially important that the subject remains in the anxiety-inducing situation long enough for the discomfort to subside. This is critical to the exposure process."

I barely registered the words before I was being lifted. My body was weightless, dangling in the air. I gasped, clutching at nothing, my fingers grasping only the emptiness around me. My heart raced as I was hoisted higher, cradled like an object—like cargo.

"You may now practice handling the human," David instructed the others. His voice vibrated all around me, impossibly close. "Use gentle words of encouragement. Show them they are safe."

Safe? I felt anything but. His hands, rough and smelling faintly of tobacco and citrus, held me firmly, too tightly. I was forced into a ball, his thumb pressing into my shoulder as he patted me like an uneasy animal. The movement wasn't comforting—it was oppressive. My cheeks burned with humiliation as his monotone voice cooed down at me.

"See, Darrick? You're okay. I'm not hurting you," David said, robotic and detached. His words felt like static in my ears. My hair fell into my eyes as his thumb rubbed awkwardly over my head, his touch anything but gentle.

I glanced up briefly, my gaze locking onto Cole's. His expression froze me in place. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide with horror. He looked at me like I was something pitiful, something to pity.

Beside him, Austin's jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides. His narrowed eyes were fixed not on me but on David, his anger barely contained. Jace stood farther back, hunched over and staring at the floor, unable to meet my gaze.

The shame was too much. I shut my eyes tightly, curling further into myself, wishing I could disappear entirely. I couldn't bear to see their faces, to imagine what I looked like from their perspective. A specimen. A toy. A spectacle.

Then, the words that crushed me entirely: "Now," David said, "pass him to the others for practice."

Show and tell. That's all I was to them.