by Y A Marks
As I lay there, images of my tenderized fingers cut into my mind. Upper-Cs generally had soft, beautiful hands. I sought out products to make my skin smooth and my nails healthy. Just the thought of bloody pinpricks in my fingernails cut at my heart, my mind, and everything else.
I slowly unwound the bandages on my left, index finger. The thick, white cloth rolled around and fell softly to the bed.
My eyes studied my finger for an eternity, examining the pale skin and small, wrinkled indentions. My body tightened and then relaxed. All the tension in my shoulders drifted away.
My finger was healthy—healed. There wasn’t a mark on the finger or the nail. I didn’t feel any pain, discomfort, or weird lingering tightness. It was perfect. My nail polish was gone and all that showed was a pink and yellow pad under the semi-transparent nail.
I unwrapped the other fingers. All of them appeared untouched. I yanked off the wrappings on my feet. My toes were fine too.
I didn’t understand it. The needles went through my nails and my skin. I was tortured. I knew it, but all the evidence was gone.
The door rattled open. I grabbed the tiny blanket that covered me and tightened it around my body. For whatever reason, I needed it. I had to have the blanket’s protection.
Clarisse walked in and pulled the only chair in the room near my bed and sat down. Her face was calm, relaxed, almost as though nothing had happened. She pulled up her PCD to take notes and glanced at me over her glasses.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
I went into mild shock. My words froze. Every part of my body was tense and drenched in panic. I gawked at her and inched myself as far away from her chair as possible. My feet and hands gently pushed against the mattress, moving my body against the back rail.
I didn’t understand my emotions—my fear. Being in the same room with her terrorized me. Her voice sent razor-edged chills into my spine.
“Paeton, I’m sure you’re feeling better. Did you eat?” she asked.
I pressed my back against the farthest most point of the gurney. No words came. This was too weird. What was wrong with me? It was like she was a human android. I only felt this type of panic around androids, never humans.
She got up and walked around to the food tray. She scribbled a note on her PCD. I shuffled around as she moved, staying atop the gurney but putting as much distance between me and her as possible. I didn’t even understand why. I couldn’t understand why I was so afraid. I was two steps away from falling into total shock.
“Food eaten, check,” she said. A small smile curled on her lips as she walked back around.
“You… Y-Y-You tortured me,” I finally managed to say.
Her eyebrows tightened before her gaze slid from my right eye to my left. “Sixteen-year-olds and their imaginations. We found you at the bottom of some cave in South Atlanta. You were barely breathing and someone had knocked you unconscious. You had a very bad crack in your skull.”
“No,” I said. My gaze slid over the room, absorbing the realness of it and comparing it to the memories of the last few days. “I saw you. I felt it. It was real.”
She lifted her PCD close to her eyes. Her gaze studied the glowing pixels on the LCD. “So, in this imaginary world of yours, what did I do to you?”
“You… You put needles through my fingers—through my nails.”
“How does someone do such a thing?” she asked like she was my social worker or something.
“I know I’m not crazy.” I grabbed my head with my hands.
She sat back down and watched me, making notes every once in a while.
“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not crazy! I know it happened,” I said.
“Tell me Paeton, is this the first time that you’ve ever felt… mental instability?”
“I—”
My words drifted. The moment I killed Governor Read cut into the forefront of my mind. Less than twenty minutes later, Dhyla had died. I remember my mind going away. I was lost in some new world. Reality had left me as I was tucked myself away inside my mind.
I stared at Clarisse. Was she actually standing there? Did I see myself in court on the television screen? Did I go to court? Was Dhyla a figment of my imagination? What about Mari and Miko, Josalyn, Sun Hi, and Rylan? Did I invent Rylan?
Clarisse dropped her gaze. Sadness covered her face. “Here,” she said, pulling out a bottle from her pocket. “I’m not supposed to give you anything, but I’m concerned about you.”
Two pills shook from the bottle and into her hand. Lifting a pitcher, she filled a cup with water and set the cup on the little cart with my food. Then, she reached for my hand. When I tucked my hand under my head, she placed the pills in the tray on the cart.
“I’m not going to force you. I want you to trust me,” she said.
My eyes focused on her or rather through her. I saw her moving. I tracked her face within my mind, but she wasn’t registering as someone I could communicate with. I couldn’t understand her even though she spoke plainly.
A part of me stirred. I scooted over the bed and reached for the pills. I didn’t want them, but I was so afraid of her. Afraid of what she might do to me if I didn’t take them, if I didn’t trust her. I put the pills into my mouth and drank the water, forcing the white orbs down my throat.
“Good girl.” She walked to the door and dimmed the lights. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.”
I lay back in the bed and tried to relax my mind. For some reason, I couldn’t focus. The world around me was there, but it didn’t seem real. It wasn’t a dream—more like a shifting reality.
My fingers curled and slid under my thighs. My knees folded and my legs pressed against my chest. Once I’d wrapped my arms around my legs, a pulse of overwhelming fear surged through my veins. The beeps of the computers turned into long, ghostlike moans. The floor undulated and the lines between the tiles popped up one at a time, breaking apart from one another until the entire floor was covered in worm-like creatures.
The worms thickened and crawled up the sides of the gurney and onto the thin, white sheet that covered me. I pushed my back into the two pillows behind me and pressed them into the mattress.
This couldn’t be real. This had to be an illusion of my mind.
The gurney vibrated under the weight and rhythm of the worms. Closer and closer they crept, they little mouths opening to reveal sharp teeth arranged in a circle.
I stood on the bed, crouched down just enough not to bang my head on the examining light that was over my head. The first worm slid onto my foot. The cool sticky slime that surrounded it oozed on my skin. Soon another was on me, and then another until my feet were covered.
I swatted the worms, but my hands flew straight through them. They continued up my legs. Once they were beyond my knees, they began biting. Their bodies stuck out into the air and began to wiggle like a dog’s tail. All of my energy drained from me. They sucked the life out of me. I was tired—too tired to keep fighting them.
I crumpled forward and rolled off the bed onto the floor. There, they covered me until quivering worms covered my vision. My arms swatted, pulled, and yanked, but it was no use. I couldn’t get a grip on any of them. Panic flooded my mind. Every drop of energy fought them. I screamed. My fingers raked over my head and skin. Blood dripped from my fingertips. This had to be real. I felt the reality of it. I felt the pain.
Every part of me worked furiously to get them off, to remove them, to be free.
I fell over. My gaze lingered at my fingers, which were covered in crimson. I didn’t move anymore. The worms could have me. This was my end.
A door opened and white light filled my vision. A hand extended toward me. I lifted into the light. I was safe, there was nothing around me but peace—no more worms, no more fear, no more anguish.
CHAPTER 6
My body fumbled. I shook and rolled. A sharp pain cut me from the inside out. My stomach and intestines chopped into confetti. My body fought and
the muscles around my stomach tightened.
A blast of my dinner mixed with the pills shot from my mouth. It splashed onto the floor as my hands pushed me away. My stomach lurched as the rest of me trembled. Everything that I had eaten escaped me, hit the floor, and pooled out into every direction.
I rolled to the side. My energy was gone, along with my body heat. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered, laying in my vomit.
I missed Dhyla.
I tumbled into a forest made tall and wide with her love, friendship, and memories. I reached out to hold her. Why did she have to die? Why wouldn’t she come with me? I had killed her. The moment I raced to see the drone. Her voice was with me then, warning me, but I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen?
I don’t know how long I lay there on the floor, but when I stood, my body was sticky and everything on my right side hurt from being pressed against the hard linoleum. Somehow, I made it into the bathroom. I turned to the mirror. My face was bruised, my eyes sunken, but there was something different. Something had changed that I didn’t understand.
I moved closer to the mirror and focused on my face. On it was a look that I had never seen before on anyone, let alone on my face. Emptiness and longing were in my expression. My eyebrows spoke of anger, my skin of peace, and my lips of happiness.
I didn’t know who this girl was. Was this me? There was an edge that I had never seen before in myself.
I stumbled backward away from the mirror. I was more panicked by the girl’s face in the mirror than by Clarisse.
A chill slid up my spine. I wrapped my arms around my body. I needed to get warm. This had to be some kind of trick in my mind. I sped away from the mirror. My arms yanked open dozens of drawers and cabinets until I found a spare gown on the far side of the room. With shaky hands, I washed my body with paper towels and liquid soap. I wiped up the floor and then fastened the clean gown around me the best I could. After everything was at least visually sanitary, I fell back on the bed covering myself with the white sheet and beige blanket. I was too tired to do anything more. With my dinner gone, my stomach turned.
The soft stench of my vomit lingered in the room like a cloud, hovering around in the breeze of the air conditioning. I tossed and turned. My eyes refused to close. I couldn’t forget the look on my face, in my eyes. Eventually I did find sleep, but I couldn’t say when. I didn’t fall into a deep sleep. It was just enough to keep my stomach from aching.
Sometime later, the door barked open. From the footfalls and the light taps on a PCD’s screen, I guessed it was Clarisse. I couldn’t understand why Clarisse wanted to know so much about me. She had linked my relationship with Dhyla to Escerica. She knew Rylan was my boyfriend. She also knew I loved Mari and Miko, but my guess was the government had figured that out a few days ago when I risked everything to get them out of Juvie.
Clarisse could use this information in multiple ways. I wasn’t sure what she had planned. Did she want to force me into doing what she wanted by holding Mari and Miko hostage again? Did she think she could get to me by kidnapping or hurting Rylan? Love is powerful. I had already risked my life because of it. What else would I be willing to do?
Clarisse’s presence hovered over me. The hairs on my arms stood up as she moved closer. She watched me, but by her lingering, she had expected another outcome. She quick-stepped toward each noisemaker in my room, including my heartbeat monitor and the other instruments. Her movements became more hurried the longer she stayed. Whatever was going on in her mind, she wasn’t pleased.
Heels clacking on the floor, she dashed into the bathroom. I was sure she’d find my gown drenched with vomit and the half-digested, white pills she had given me. A gasp dotted the air. She re-entered the room and moved closer to the bed.
My eyes popped open, and my gaze locked onto hers.
For some reason, I was different, not quite as afraid as before. I don’t know if it was because of the regurgitation or if it was simply because I had witnessed Clarisse’s fear. Why was she so afraid of me all of a sudden, and why did I feel more powerful because of it?
Her body drifted backward with one hand raised in front of her breast.
“Oh, hi Clarisse,” I said.
Clarisse’s eyebrow space tightened. “Paeton?”
“Yeah, is everything okay?”
“Uh, yes. Everything is fine,” she said, worry at the edges of her tone.
“Okay.”
I closed my eyes and rolled over. Something changed in me, and I enjoyed this quiet power that radiated along my skin.
She stood there for some time, making tiny sounds of shock and awe. Her footsteps exited the room, and the door closed behind her.
After Clarisse left, I sat up in the bed. A few sparks of fear were still at the edges of my being. They drifted along my knees and fingertips, but I had experienced something new. Clarisse had given me something else. In her desire to break me, she had actually turned me into someone else. I knew it. I could feel it.
I exhaled and let go, knowing that I didn’t understand what this new Paeton would bring. I loved who I was, and I didn’t want to become someone I hated.
As I relaxed and settled back in the bed, I heard my voice. It wasn’t that I heard my voice in my head or anything odd like that. I literally heard myself speaking. It was muffled, but I knew the sound of my own voice.
My head turned to focus on where it was coming from—the hallway.
On shaky legs, I pulled myself off the bed. My body ached. Everything felt as though it would break apart at any moment. Using the IV stand as balance, I made my way over to the hospital room door and slid it open. A security guard stood a few feet away from the door, his face along with a half a dozen nurses watched a monitor that hung above the nurse’s station.
I glanced down the other end of the hallway, but no one else was there. I checked the ID tags of some of the other rooms, but there were only blank slots. Wherever I was, I may have been the only person on the floor. The thought made me feel even weaker than I already was.
I gazed back at the monitor. The guard took a step back and leaned against the wall. He gave a half-hearted glance back toward my room, and I closed the door just in time. After a few seconds, I eased the door back open. I slid my foot close to the doorway to ensure the door only opened an inch, just enough for me to see. A passing glance would make the average person think the door was still closed.
My voice sounded again, and I stared at the holographic monitor. I was on the monitor; or at least someone who looked like me, sounded like me, and had my mannerisms. The person was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. The sleeves were cuffed, and the cuffs displayed an animated zebra-stripe pattern.
My doppelgänger on the monitor sat back with her leg tucked under her butt, face tired but eager. She ran her hands over her hair to ensure no strands had come out of the high ponytail that was strung at the back of her head. After a second she focused on the reporter.
“Escerica will continue its operations with or without me,” my doppelgänger said.
“But now that they are without leadership, how far do you think they will go?” the reporter asked.
“They are not without leaders. Some of the best ones are still alive and well.”
My throat tightened, listening to myself on the screen. I wondered if this was why Clarisse was so thorough. Was she creating another me?
My gaze slid over the monitor searching for an indication of time. Near the bottom, close to the news ticker, was the word “LIVE.” I tried to find something else stating that this was previously recorded or something, but there were no other indicators.
I didn’t understand. I was here, wasn’t I? I rammed my fist into my thigh. The throb in my quadriceps was real. Unlike the times when I was hallucinating, I could read the words. They were as clear as ever. Their meanings didn’t jump into my mind. I read them, understanding them, and translating the words into ideas. I couldn’t be dreaming or meditating or under hypnosis or
anything else. This was real.
It made me question the person I saw in the courtroom. The one that yelled when she was sentenced to prison, was she real, too? Or was that a figment of my imagination?
A chill slid into me, a deep cold that tightened around my bones. My knee bounced, and I put my hand on my thigh to calm it.
The reporter leaned forward and glanced at her notes for a second. “The week has been long, Paeton. But our government cares about its people and will stop at nothing to bring anyone who is a threat to justice.”
My doppelgänger rolled her eyes. “The government has no desire to help anyone but themselves. They are the threat. We are at war. Thousands of people will die until the government yields to the demands of the many.”
“It’s a shame you feel that way. I wonder how you will feel when one of your own has died.”
“What are you talk—”
The reporter lifted a picture. She checked it before handing it to my doppelgänger. My doppelgänger took the image in her right hand. Her left hand slid over her mouth. I watched the anguish on her face explode. Every pore was drenched in sadness.
“When?” she asked.
“Yesterday. A raid in Gwinnett County.”
A small image appeared at the lower left corner of the screen. I squinted trying to make out the image. It was a teenager. He lay backward on a magnacar-sized stone. A metal reinforcement rod, which is used in construction, impaled him through the stomach. Even with the teenager’s eye closed, I knew it was Rylan. It was his face and his hair and his…
Everything within me shut down. My muscles ached, staring at the grotesque image. I closed the door slightly and put my hand over my chest. My torn heart tightened but refused to release the contraction. Air wouldn’t fill my lungs. I stood stagnant, trying to get a hold of my emotions.
“Why?” my doppelgänger asked.
I glanced back at the screen. My doppelgänger’s eyes watered, and her cheeks were red. Right then, I appeared exactly the same way.