The Gender Lie

by Bella Forrest

  As her mouth touched mine, I knew it was better to let it go. I didn’t want her to think I was ungrateful for the support she was giving me. I just wished I could find the right words that would encourage her to let me do this alone.

  “So, what exactly can we expect today, Doc?” she asked, leaping off the bed. I watched her walk, envying how she could do it so casually. The emotion caught me by surprise. I shouldn’t be jealous of her ability to do something as simple as walking.

  “Nothing too extreme today,” the doctor said. “We’re going to work out his legs, which have suffered some mild atrophy from the duration of his coma. It’s going to be a few days before we can build up to assisted walking. For today, just getting back some flexibility and mild re-strengthening.”

  I frowned. “We aren’t going to try walking today? Then why did you have that set up?” I asked, nodding toward the makeshift handrails.

  Dr. Tierney smiled at me, setting the pen she was holding down on the table. “For convenience’s sake,” she said, standing up. “Are you ready to get started?”

  I glowered at her, until I saw the naked hope and sparkling eagerness in Violet’s eyes. I swallowed my frustration and nodded.

  Dr. Tierney approached the bed, Violet at her heels. The doctor grabbed my blanket and tossed it back, revealing my stupid hospital gown and my legs.

  My legs looked… thinner and less muscular. Not much, but weeks of no activity had left their mark.

  “All right, Mr. Croft. All I want you to do is lift your left leg off the bed and hold it for as long as you can.”

  Taking a deep breath, I focused on my left leg, lifting it as high as it would go. I got about a foot off the bed before my muscles began to protest the move. I gritted my teeth, straining hard, but I could only manage another inch before it was too painful. Clutching the sheets, I felt a tremor roll down my thigh and into my calf as I tried to hold it up.

  I released my breath and let my leg collapse back on the mattress. I had started to sweat, which unnerved me, and I felt like that little bit of movement had drained me of more energy than I had to spare. I met Violet’s gaze and then looked away, humiliated.

  “That was very good, Mr. Croft,” Dr. Tierney announced with a sickly sweet smile. She pulled a pen out of her pocket and grabbed the file at the end of my bed, jotting a few notes. “Five seconds is an excellent start,” she added, clicking the pen. She lowered the chart and turned back to me. “Now for the other one.”

  I tensed my jaw and concentrated on repeating the move with my other leg. I got it slightly higher off the bed before the pain set in, but I fought it off, determined to hold it up longer. The shaking started almost immediately, but I ignored it, trying to will my leg to stay up. Just like before, however, the pain became unbearable. It fell back to the bed and I loosened, panting.

  Dr. Tierney nodded again in satisfaction and scribbled another note. “Two extra seconds on that leg—it’s very promising. Now, try to lift your knee up to your chest and hold it.”

  Aggravated, I looked at her. “Is that all we’re going to be doing today? Holding my legs up?”

  Still smiling, the woman crossed her arms and shot me a look. “What did you expect? Squats?”

  Defeated, I slumped back into the pillows and forced myself to look at Violet. Her face had once again turned sympathetic, and as much as I cared about her, looking at her was making me angrier. I didn’t want her sympathy. I wasn’t even sure I wanted her here.

  I forced my mind back to the task at hand. Groaning, I lifted my thigh toward my chest. I could only work it up to a forty-degree angle before the muscle spasms and discomfort started. Biting my lip, I focused on my breathing. I forced myself to breathe slowly, in and out of my nose. I was only able to hold the position for a few seconds before the pain forced me to drop my thigh.

  “Excellent! And the other?”

  Exhaling, I started to lift it when there was a sharp knock at the door.

  Violet looked at me and then Dr. Tierney, and I relaxed my leg back on the bed, both grateful and irritated by the interruption.

  “Yes?” Dr. Tierney called, turning toward the door.

  The door swung open, revealing the same blond man who had called for Violet before. I thought Violet mentioned his name was Owen, but there were a few holes in her story that were a result of me falling asleep during parts of it.

  “Hey Owen,” Violet said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

  “Hey Violet,” he greeted, looking slightly bashful. “I know that you slated this time for Viggo,” he nodded at me as he said my name, and I held up my hand in return. “But Thomas and Desmond have that list for us, and Des is kind of in a fit to get it done sooner rather than later, so…”

  “Oh,” Violet said, turning back to glance at me, her face indecisive. “Uh… Sorry, Owen. Viggo takes priority right now. Ask Quinn to help you.”

  “Quinn,” he replied flatly, looking dubious. “He’s so….” And then he rolled his eyes and made an excited face, and Violet laughed.

  I zeroed in on that laugh and Owen’s face, a wave of jealousy crashing over me. I suddenly felt like I had the strength to get out of bed and smash my fist into his jaw, and I even started to sit up but was forestalled by Dr. Tierney’s hand on my chest, as well as the pain that was still radiating in my thighs from the simple exercises.

  Violet hadn’t noticed, but Owen had, and he shifted nervously. “Okay, well. If you find some time later…?”

  Violet nodded, her dark hair bouncing. “All right, Owen. Please be careful.”

  I tried to read the nuance of her voice as she said it, trying to get a feel if there was something more there, but she said it casually, as if he were a friend. Owen raised his hand and then left.

  Violet turned back to me. “Ready for the next exercise?” she asked, clapping her hands together.

  I frowned at her. “Who was that?” I asked, hating the tone of my voice as I said it. I was too old to be jealous like this, but I couldn’t seem to be getting anything right.

  Violet gave me a confused smile, and I could tell she had picked up that something was wrong. “That was Owen. He’s one of the people who went with me to Patrus to get the laser for you.”

  The words registered, causing me to falter. “Oh. He seemed…uh, nice.”

  Cocking her head at me, Violet’s gaze twinkled as realization dawned. I suppressed a groan. “Oh my God… you’re jealous!” she announced. “Of Owen!”

  I flicked my attention over to Dr. Tierney, who took a slow and exaggerated step back and walked away, her face a careful mask of neutrality.

  I felt my cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

  “No,” I insisted, and Violet shook her head, refuting my statement with her disbelieving gaze.

  “You are! Aww, that is adorable.”

  I felt a flash of irritation at her adjective of choice but rolled my eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry—I did… feel… a moment of jealousy,” I admitted, unable to meet her eyes. “It’s just… he took you away yesterday and now he came for you again today… and I’ve just missed so much over the past two weeks that it’s hard to take in all of these changes at once. I’m having a hard time processing.”

  I risked a glance at Violet and saw total understanding. She reached out to cup my cheek, her thumb stroking my stubble. “It’s okay,” she said. “I get it. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m here. Okay?”

  I nodded, some of my negative feelings dissipating, before my lips turned upward. “I really do appreciate it, but as I said before, if there is somewhere you need to be or something you need to do… then you should do it. I’ll be okay here with Dr. Tierney.”

  Violet’s eyebrows drew together and she slowly lowered her hand from my face. “You… want me to go?” she asked.

  “No! Of course not. I’m not saying that at all. I just… I don’t want you to waste your time — doesn’t that make sense?”

  Violet’s frown deepened, and I sighed, my ear
lier frustration returning. “I didn’t mean to imply that I’m not important to you,” I said, picking at a loose string on my hospital gown. “I just meant that—”

  “It’s okay, I think I understand,” Violet murmured. “I mean, I don’t totally understand, but if you think I should go and help Owen, then I will.”

  I let out the breath I was holding and jumped on the out she was offering me. “I do. I can tell you’ve come to care about the people here, so if there’s something you need to do to help them, then do it… you, uh, know where to find me.”

  The last part I added in a dry tone, and it had the desired effect of wiping away Violet’s frown and getting her to chuckle. “Okay,” she acquiesced, leaning forward to land a kiss on my forehead. “But if you need anything, or if you just want to see me, then—”

  “I promise I will tell Dr. Tierney.”

  “Okay… I’ll see you as soon as I’m done,” she promised before leaving.

  I watched her go, the smile fading from my lips, and turned to Dr. Tierney.

  “Is there any way… you could… ask Violet not to come for my physical therapy appointments?” I asked with considerable effort as I met the doctor’s gaze, feeling every bit the coward in that moment.

  21

  Violet

  The conversation with Viggo had been a bit odd, and I could sense there was something off with him, so retreating had seemed like the best course of action. I might have been reading too much into things—after all, he was just getting back on his feet in a manner of speaking, and had a lot of history to catch up on.

  As I walked down to the next level, I tried to imagine what it would be like to be in his shoes. I wouldn’t react well to all the changes either. It had to be frustrating, waking up in a place you knew next to nothing about, surrounded by and dependent on strangers.

  I let out a sigh. As it stood, I didn’t really know how much longer we were going to be able to stay here. I had clearly angered Desmond with my line of questioning from yesterday, and when I woke up this morning, I realized I regretted approaching her the way I did. I had been downright antagonistic toward her, when I had no right to be.

  She was correct—she didn’t have to conform to my ideology, just as I didn’t have to conform to hers. In retrospect, I could kind of see her point about Mr. Jenks’ pills and using them, but I still felt fairly certain that I wouldn’t take them. Still, she had made a good point with the arms race comment, and I couldn’t find fault in her logic.

  I just found fault with the science behind the pill. It was emotional, pure and simple; emotional reactions didn’t win battles, and they certainly wouldn’t help Desmond win her war. And it was clear that she was in it to win, although how she planned to do that was still beyond me.

  I was in the process of stepping through the door connecting the stairs to the second level, when the sound of running feet hurtling toward me caught my attention. I looked up and saw Quinn racing toward me, his eyes wide and feverish.

  “Violet,” he panted, sliding to a stop, his arms windmilling to keep him from losing his balance. Reaching out, I grabbed his shoulders and steadied him. His cheeks were flushed from exertion. He also looked afraid.

  “What’s wrong?” I half asked, half demanded and he pointed behind him.

  “It’s your brother! He’s gone… crazy, tearing up the cafeteria and… hey!”

  I had already pushed past him, my heart in my throat. The cafeteria was another two levels down, and I had to race through each level to get there. I shut everything off and ran, hoping that it wasn’t as bad as Quinn was making it sound.

  The only word I could find to describe the wreckage before me was devastation. The room was a disaster—tables knocked over and chairs shattered in an impressive yet terrifying display of anger. And in the center of it all stood a wild-eyed heaving young man with the same dark hair and gray eyes as me.

  He stood over an unconscious person, his fists clenching and unclenching. Everyone else had scattered and fled, except for a few ducking down behind upturned tables. I saw Meera and Nissa—a little girl whose mother had joined up with the Liberators and then died while on a mission. They were crouching behind a counter in the kitchen area, and I carefully noted the knife in Meera’s hand and the way she was looking at my brother.

  This was bad.

  I stepped out from the doorframe and into the room, looking at my brother.

  “Hey, Tim,” I said, struggling to keep my tone light and soft.

  Tim looked at me, watching me warily as I moved closer to him. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Quinn dart in and move slowly toward a group of people cowering behind a table, beckoning them over. I met his glance and gave him a quick nod, approving of him getting people out, before refocusing on my brother.

  He had switched his focus to Quinn, his expression dark and thunderous. I could see the tension contained in his muscles, the malicious intent in his eyes.

  “Tim,” I called, and he turned back to me, much to my relief. “Look at me, baby brother. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I just need you to take a step back, so I can check on Henrik.”

  Henrik was a defense instructor. He was older, in his late forties or early fifties, and a retired warden from Patrus. His son had married a Matrian woman and elected to move there. Henrik had gone with him, not willing to lose the last bit of his family due to political differences. His son and daughter-in-law had a baby boy, but when his only grandchild later failed the test and was taken from them… well, it hadn’t been pretty. His daughter-in-law had been unable to cope with the loss of her child and committed suicide, and shortly thereafter Henrik’s son followed, unable to cope with the loss of his wife and their child.

  As I stared at his unconscious form at Tim’s feet, I felt relieved to see that his chest was still moving, although the blood streaming from his nose and mouth wasn’t very reassuring. Tim took another slow step back as I moved closer, keeping my hands up and my face calm. Kneeling, I placed two fingers on Henrik’s neck. There was a steady beat there.

  I nodded to Tim and gave him a reassuring smile. “He’s okay, Tim, but we need to get him to the doctor. Can I ask some of the others to come help carry him? Will that be okay?”

  Tim gave me a long hard stare and then nodded once. Turning back to the door, I waved over the others who were lurking just outside the doorframe.

  “Slow movements,” I said calmly. “Nothing fast, no aggression, okay?”

  Several people crept back in and helped gather up Henrik. I kept myself between them and Tim, my gaze on Tim. “See?” I said, taking another step closer. “It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. We just need you to calm down.”

  Tim gave a slow blink, the anger in his face slowly draining. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and then looked around the room, his face morphing to one of confusion and horror. I winced as I watched him slowly realize what he had done during his fit.

  His eyes found mine, and my heart slowly broke, seeing the unshed tears threatening to spill from them.

  “Violet?” he asked so softly, the sound was barely audible.

  “It’s okay, Tim. It’s going to be okay,” I promised.

  Tim took a deep shaking breath, his legs and arms trembling. He moved toward me, and I felt even more relief wash over me. It was over and done with, for now.

  Just then a blur came up behind my brother; a figure leaping on his back and wrapping two arms around his neck, holding tight.

  “I’ve got him Violet!” Quinn shouted, his head appearing from behind Tim’s shoulder.

  “Quinn! NO!” I yelled, but it was too late.

  Tim’s sad face darkened again in anger, and he roared, lashing out with his limbs. He caught me by surprise as he did, the back of his hand cracking hard and unexpectedly across my face. I staggered from the force of the blow and tripped, grunting as I fell hard on my right shoulder. I grabbed at it for a moment, waves of pain shooting through my jaw and side, b
efore pushing myself off the floor.

  I climbed to my feet in time to see Tim grab Quinn and fling him across the room. Quinn didn’t go far, but I cringed at his cry of pain as he hit the flat edge of an overturned table.

  I staggered over to Tim, still clutching my shoulder. “Tim,” I cried, and he whirled, his fists already moving. I ducked the first blow and side-stepped the second one, but his third punch made it through, striking me directly on my already throbbing shoulder.

  I hissed in pain as I fell to one knee. Tim rose over me, like a titan about to reign hellfire down on the earth, when something came between us.

  Looking up, I was shocked to see that it was Desmond.

  “Desmond,” I coughed, trying to struggle back to my feet in spite of the overwhelming pain I was in.

  She ignored me, her focus completely on Tim. He roared at her, spittle flying everywhere, before lashing out wildly. Desmond… I couldn’t begin to describe how graceful she was. She flowed like water around each blow, easily sidestepping and dodging, with minimal use of energy.

  My jaw dropped as I watched her move, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. When she did, it was in an unexpected way: She grabbed something from a pocket in her suit. I had just enough time to register that it was a syringe, before she pulled the cap off of it with her teeth, stepped inside my brother’s guard, and jammed it into his neck, compressing the plunger.

  My brother reared back, slapping one hand to his neck, and stumbled. Desmond spat the cap into her hand and recapped the needle on the syringe calmly, as if this were an everyday occurrence, before returning her focus to my brother.

  Tim had sagged to his knees, gaping at her, before slumping to the ground, unconscious.

  I rushed over to him, crawling through the debris, panic a thick taste in my mouth. I quickly put my fingers to his neck, and nearly cried in relief to feel his heartbeat alive under my fingertips.