by C. E. Wilson
His purple eyes soften. “No, no,” he says, lowering his voice back to a gentle purr. “I’m not angry with you. I’m not going to hurt you, Eleven.”
“Will you quit talking to it like you’re it’s master?” Griff says. “It could have rabies.”
“Stop acting like a moron,” Reese says. “Stay here. I’ll take her down myself.”
“Be my guest, but make sure you have the controller. I wouldn’t be caught within throwing distance of that animal.”
I wince. Animal. I’m not surprised, but to hear him say the word openly around Reese hurts. I don’t want to be an animal in his eyes. As Reese closes the door to the basement behind him to lead us both down, I hear Griff talking loudly to someone about possibly needing a tetanus shot. I roll my eyes since Reese can’t see them. Just because he stopped the shock doesn’t mean he wouldn’t shock me for upsetting him. I wouldn’t want to hear him talk to me in a harsh voice with those hauntingly beautiful eyes.
“I’m sorry about him… again,” Reese says as our feet hit the floor.
I look around the basement. It’s actually not bad. I’m expecting a dungeon, but the massive space is comfortably furnished. I dare to look up at Reese and chastise myself. I shouldn’t look at him. Immediately, I find the sandy carpet.
“H-hey, hey,” Reese says, still keeping a safe distance despite the leash and collar. “Stop acting like that. I’m not mad at you, Eleven. Please don’t think I could ever get mad at you.”
I’m not used to apologies. I’m not used to explanations. Like an idiot, I’m only able to nod stupidly as Reese tugs at the leash.
“Paulson said your room’s in the corner,” he says, leading me through the room to a dark, narrow hallway. The temperature falls and the carpet changes to gray cement like in the garage. “This must be it,” he says as he stands in front of a door. He opens it slowly and the two of us look inside. Reese’s throat tenses up but he remains quiet.
It’s a small room and the walls are gray cement blocks. There’s a tiny rug on the floor, but it’s moldy and worn. I can smell the mildew. There’s a small bed with a pillow and two blankets resting over the frame. There’s an even tinier adjoining room with a toilet and sink and a showerhead over a floor drain. It’s an improvement over the garage floor and a bucket, I think, but Reese disagrees.
“How can they expect us to live like this?” he says in a small voice. When I tilt my head to look up at him, his face reddens and he looks away. “You. I mean you. With all the expensive crap Celia has, I don’t understand why you have to stay hidden away in a basement room.” He sucks his upper lip into his mouth and lets out a sound. “I’m going to talk to Celia…”
“N-no!” I blurt out, flinching as he looks my way.
“Why not? This is completely unnecessary.”
“It’s fine,” I say, stepping into the room. “I have a place to sleep and I’m sure Paulson will treat me better as I show him I can be trusted.”
His face changes, but he doesn’t say anything else at first. Instead, he chooses to walk over to the bolt set in the wall next to the bed and attaches my leash. The leash is long enough so I can move around the entire room comfortably, but I cannot escape the room itself. I don’t mind. I sit down on the bed as Reese leans in the doorframe. I can’t tell or not if he’s looking, but gauging by the weight I feel, I bet he is.
I don’t know whether I’m allowed to be happy about this or not.
“When the pizza gets here,” he says carefully, “I’ll eat with Griff and try to calm him down. Not that he didn’t deserve what happened, but I don’t want you to get in any more trouble with Shawn.”
Any more? As I lift up my head, I remember that he saw the scabs on my lips from when I cleaned up my mess. My hand reaches up for them and I brush my dry lips carefully.
“Does he hurt you?” Reese asks. Again, I can’t tell if he’s watching closely. I shake my head immediately. “I don’t believe you.”
My head snaps up and both of us are surprised to be looking directly at each other. He actually lowers his head before I can.
“Despite what happened with Griff up there, you’re not violent,” Reese says, sounding sure of himself. “And violence is the only reason he should punish you… if ever,” he finishes off in a huff. “I’ll ask again… does he hurt you?”
Afraid of a possible betrayal, I shake my head roughly and hair flops around my face, covering my forehead and eyes. I hear Reese chuckle nervously as I push the strands away.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh,” he says, trying to defend himself. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” I ask nervously. I’m almost afraid of what he’s going to tell me.
“I don’t understand how you’re an Eleven. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Check the Registration Records,” I say automatically. “It’s all there.”
“I think I might. I’m sure one of my aunts could…”
“Your… aunts?”
He lowers his head. “They are…” he trails off, almost looking puzzled about how to describe them.
“Yo! Beast and the Beauty!” a voice calls from upstairs. “Food’s here!”
Reese looks back at me with a reluctant expression. Why is he surprised by the number? I always thought Eleven was fitting for a girl like me. Nice hair, too full lips and eyes too boring a color. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as Reese sucks in his upper lip.
“I have to go,” he says softly. He takes a step backwards and rests his hand on the door as he starts to close it. “I swear. As soon as I’m done eating, I’ll bring you down leftovers.”
“You don’t have to promise anything,” I say before I censor myself. Cold hands clamp over my mouth in shame and I lower my head and prepare myself. He still wields the controller so he wields the power. I expect him to respond sharply, but instead he continues to close the door.
But not before he mutters, “I’ll promise whatever I want.”
He closes the door, leaving me stunned on the rickety bed.
***
I thought I remembered pizza, but I was wrong. Staring at the plate on the bed, I can tell Reese is hesitant for some reason. I want to believe it isn’t because he’s scared I’ll throw the plate at him. It had been awhile since I’d seen pizza, but I didn’t think food had changed so much. I pick up the plate and sniff it. Everything I remember about pizza is still there. The thin flaky crust and the red wash of sauce. Even the cheese on top. And what’s crawling on top of the cheese?
I set the plate down and look up at Reese who remains in the doorway. “This is pizza?” I ask him.
He shoots me a sheepish smile and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t think about it when I placed the order. I said to look up the usual for Reese Wynters and Griff Walker and this arrived. I’m sorry… I forget a pizza novice would be joining me.”
“What is usual about this?” I ask, looking over the toppings. “Is this how you eat pizza?”
“Yeah… it’s called the Pair of Blue Eyes,” he explains as he shifts on his feet. If he wants to come over, he immediately decides against it. “I didn’t even think about how weird it would be. But the place we order from makes the most incredible pizzas and—”
“What is it?” My mouth starts to water, but I don’t want to insult him. “Pair of Blue Eyes?”
“It’s a play on words,” he explains. “It’s warm pear slices with a blue cheese drizzle…” He trails off in response to my expression. I can’t help myself. My nose is scrunched up and I look at the pizza as if it’s covered with poison ivy.
“Pear is fruit,” I say as I reach forward and touch one of the slices of fruit resting on top of the pie. “And there’s already cheese on the pizza.” Yech. That explains the strange smell.
“It’s good. You should try it,” Reese says. “I was going to bring you down a slice of what Griff ordered, but he said you couldn’t handle it.”
I narrow my eyes involuntarily. I am
beginning not to like Griff. It’s pizza… not a work of art. Still though… looking down at the two slices of pizza Reese brought down for me… I can’t help but think he’s right.
“Next time I’ll order a more traditional pizza,” Reese says. “But you should at least try it before you hate it.”
He has a point. There won’t be a next time to impress him so, taking a chance, I pick up the slice and hold it close, scrutinizing it carefully. The slice stinks. Too many flavors at once for my simple nostrils to take in. But with Griff’s words ringing in my ears, I take a chance and bite into a small piece. Immediately, I’m hit with all sorts of tastes. The familiarity of pizza is there from the tangy sauce to the salty cheese but there’s much more. The warm pear slices add sweetness to the taste and the blue cheese, while slightly bitter, is still creamy and warm. I moan at the deliciousness of all of it. This is better than anything Shawn has given me.
“So you don’t hate Pair of Blue Eyes,” Reese says, smiling as he watches.
I shake my head and easily polish off the first slice before going for the next one. I’m sloppy; I’m not used to eating this kind of food, but I don’t think Reese minds. Each time I look up, he smiles, or encourages me to continue. The second slice goes down easier than the first.
“Do you want more?” Reese asks.
There’s no way I can eat more. My stomach’s already bursting at the seams and if I eat another piece, I’m sure I’ll get sick. “Thank you,” I say softly, pushing the plate to the edge of the bed. Reese stares at it. I guess he’s still nervous so rather than push his boundaries, I place the plate on the floor, slide it across the floor with my foot, and carefully back away. He stoops over, picks it up, and sets it somewhere behind him.
“So it’s good?” he asks.
It’s awkward making conversation, but he’s trying. Is he nervous because he’s scared or… no. He’s frightened of me.
“Yes, but…” I trail off and lower my eyes as he straightens up to listen. Under his full attention, I can barely control myself. My face gets hot so I shake my head and let my hair fall over my eyes like a protective shield. When he prompts me gently to tell him, I get nervous, but words tumble out. “I liked the chocolate better.”
“Did you?” he asks in a surprised tone. I nod under my hair and he laughs. “I’ll remember to keep more in my pockets again.”
Again? As if I’ll see him after today. Still, curiosity gets the better of me. “Did you used to carry chocolate in your pockets?” When he doesn’t answer right away I lift my head and an unexpected sight greets me. Reese looks a bit sad. “I’m sorry if I said—”
“No. You didn’t say anything wrong,” he interrupts. “Yeah… I did carry candy around. I guess it’s the reason…” He hums and stops talking.
“The reason?” I’m pushing the limits of our conversation, but I can’t restrain the desire to talk to him. Despite the collar, talking to Reese almost feels normal. For the first time in a long time, I’m being spoken to like a person and not a chained animal. And though Reese is obviously still nervous about being close for an extended period, the door is still open and he’s still here.
He doesn’t answer, but instead smoothly changes the subject. “I’m going to have my aunts look into your Registrations Records,” he says vaguely.
“Why? What is so special about them?”
“You have to trust me when I say that they are very good at what they do. They’re pretty much world-famous for their knowledge of Potentials. They found me, after all.” He lets out a bitter chuckle. “But that sounds arrogant. What I mean is, they’ll be able to tell if everything’s in order. Those two are like bloodhounds, I swear.”
“Dogs?”
He shakes his head and hair flops around his smooth features. I’m entranced by the view, but when he stops and looks, I immediately lower my gaze.
“I need to look at your records.” I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or not, so I sit there quietly. “Eleven,” he says softly. He stiffens suddenly as though remembering something. “I have to go.”
I can’t even imagine the look I’m giving him. I nod and realize he’s finally had enough of me. It’s fun to watch and feed an Eleven, but I suppose he doesn’t like being reminded of what he used to be. It’s disheartening to look at him and think about how close I was to becoming what he is now. And while the interaction probably doesn’t mean much to him, my eyes still water. I thought we were talking. It’s relieving to actually talk to someone.
“I’m going to come back,” he says in a soft voice. “There’s something I have to check on.”
“Sure,” I say, turning my back to him and staring straight ahead. I expect I’m going to become quite familiar with this wall. Moments like this are rare, and though I’m happy to cherish them, I can’t help but wonder what I did wrong to make him suddenly decide to leave.
“Hey, I mean it,” Reese says as he’s already starting to close the door.
I roll my eyes at the wall as the door closes. “Sure,” I mutter a second time.
Chapter Seven
“After speaking with Dr. and Mrs. Wynters, it’s been decided that you need a little extra training,” Shawn says later that night in the basement. The door is closed, sealing us together in the tiny space and all I can focus on are his lips and the words coming out of them. Wynters? Who the… Reese said his last name was Wynters. He was going to talk to his aunts. Is this what he meant? My face pales as I realize I must have upset him somehow. Nothing good ever comes when a Potential needs ‘extra training’. My mind reels to figure out what I could have done to offend him.
“You have to understand Reese’s concern, Grace,” Shawn continues as I break out into a cool sweat. “Though he reported that you behaved well during the move, I could tell you were shocked a few times. Reese and Griff wouldn’t explain the reason, but I’m inclined to believe you must have disobeyed in some way.”
I lower my head with a red face, damning both of them. Reese’s kind words. The pizza. The promises. All a game. Two Beauties having fun with a stupid, and overly trusting Potential. I’m sick to my stomach as Shawn takes a few steps forward and kneels in front of my bed. I feel small around him and my collarbone cries out in pain as my collar shifts.
“I’m sorry, Shawn,” is all I can bring myself to say. What else is there to say? Perhaps if I beg or cry, Shawn will pity me.
“I gave those boys too much responsibility,” Shawn says softly. “I told them to be careful. I guess I expected too much. However, I hadn’t expected Reese to be so concerned. He’s worried sick for Celia.”
Celia? After meeting me Reese is worried about her?
“He’s not sure if he trusts you around her quite yet,” he continues. “I suppose I understand. I’ve had the same worries. Celia’s a delicate girl and you…” he trails off and looks over out of the corner of his sharp eye, “… you’re going to be a problem if we don’t take the appropriate steps, according to Dr. Wynters. They’re concerned for you.”
For me? I swallow.
“Which is why I’m left with no other option than to have Reese work with you a few times a week. Apparently, the added interaction can be beneficial if you’re able to respond, understand, and respect more than one or two people. And since you are eventually going to be working with Celia, I think it’s only right that you build a trusting relationship with Reese.”
“Reese, Shawn?” I ask, confused.
“Dr. Wynters recommended him for several reasons – he’s good with tough cases, and he spends a lot of time with Celia. That way when you’re with Celia, he’s likely to be there and if you should decide to… act out… he would be there to discipline you. I don’t want Celia dirtying her hands.”
I wince. Of course not. My world crumbles with the explanation. So that’s all it is. Reese wanting to make sure he can trust me with his girlfriend. His behavior was all about Celia and I’ve hardly seen the girl. Bile rises in my throat. The idea of seeing R
eese suddenly makes me want to cry or vomit all over the room, but if I do, Shawn will be more than upset.
When silence falls between us, he takes my face with one of his large hands and pulls me towards him. “What’s with you?” he asks. “Are you frightened of the boy?” I shake my head. “You should be happy he’s concerned for you. He even asked me to give you this…” He trails off as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black and white container, and hands it to me. I twirl the tiny cylinder around in my fingers and give Shawn a strange look.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Chapstick,” he explains, reaching over and pulling off a tiny white cap. It reminds me of a small marshmallow. “He says you’re biting your lips because you’re cold and Dr. Wynters suggested I give you this to help.” His eyes darken. “That is what you told him, isn’t it, Grace?”
“He didn’t ask me, but I will use it if that’s what you want.”
“Every little bit helps, I suppose,” he says. “Let me show you how to use it.” He reaches forward and grabs my hand in his, holding the tiny tube up to my lips. Gently, he slathers the product over my lips and immediately I can feel a difference. The Chapstick smells like medicine, but for some reason I don’t mind. I lick my lips to see if the taste matches the scent before Shawn pinches my cheek hard with his free hand.
“What good will this be if you lick it off like a dog?” he snaps. “You leave it on your lips to keep them healthy.” He slathers on more of the medicine balm and I keep my lips sealed so I’m not tempted to lick them, as Shawn licks his own and his face softens. He sets the Chapstick next to us.
“It’s not much,” he says, looking me over. “But it helps…” He trails off as he leans closer and presses his lips to mine. I stiffen, but don’t pull away. His lips are soft and smooth. Another hand reaches around my head and fists my hair, kissing deeper. Harder. I want to squirm away, but his body movements won’t allow escape. Instead, I try to think of Reese. Despite his beauty and his belonging to Celia, I can’t get him out of my mind. I wonder what kissing his lips would be like. I think he’ll taste like chocolate.