The sun was beginning to set behind the trees, casting long shadows over the quiet farmhouse. In the cozy kitchen, the New Tara moved with a disturbing grace — every gesture precise, every smile a little too calculated.
She stopped near the wooden box where the old Tara was trapped, in the small, furry body of the rabbit. New Tara’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the tiny creature struggling inside.
“Look at you,” she murmured, voice soft but cold. “So desperate, so small. Was this your life? Pathetic.”
Without hesitation, she picked up a fresh carrot from the counter and tossed it into the box. The old Tara twitched nervously, unable to respond.
“I’m starting to like this human body,” New Tara said almost to herself. “The freedom, the power... It’s intoxicating. Being trapped like you were? That used to scare me — but now? Now, I’m in control.”
Her expression hardened.
“I told Mom I’m going to have the rabbits sent to another farm. Far away. No one can get near that stupid machine again. Destroy it? Too risky. What if it blows up? No, better to lock the barn door and throw away the key.”
From afar, near the edge of the garden, Liz watched silently, her brow furrowed. The way “Tara” spoke to the rabbits — her tone, the cold smile — felt wrong. Something wasn’t right.
Liz’s heart quickened. Was this really her daughter? Or someone else wearing her face?
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