Powerless Against You
Page 22
“I’m very good at lying to myself,” she said. “I tell myself there’s no pain: there will be no pain.
“As for your end. You’ve gotten away with lying to me for nine months. This won’t even be a challenge.”
The blood drained from Carl’s face and settled in his throat. Once he managed to swallow away the lump, he could only whisper, “What are you talking about?”
Empty eyes stared back at him. “I wanted to destroy it,” she said. “You convinced me the only safe and sane way was for me to have it, then get rid of it. We both know you lied. The biggest lie you’ve ever told.
“You wanted it. You wanted to keep it, to raise it. To take it on jobs and teach it munitions.” As she spoke, more and more life drained from her face, until Carl half thought he was talking to a statue. There was no anger in her eyes, no sneer curling her lips. Only the cold hard reality that she would have what she wanted.
“You know I would never have any love for it. The second it was alone with me, I’d dash its brains out. Your only choices were to get rid of it, run away with it, or let me kill it. I’m glad you chose the way you did. Not glad for the lie getting us here.”
“Why is it so hard for you to know?” The backs of his eyes started to sting again, but he would be damned before he cried in front of her.
She stepped forward again, pressing her lips against his ear to whisper. “I don’t want to remember you convincing me to let a parasite violate my body. I don’t want to remember you cared for its life more than you cared for my wellbeing.” Carl couldn’t stop shaking as she pulled back and smiled her dead smile at him. “Take these memories away from me, or lose what… love I have for you.” The word they never said hung there like the terrible thing it was. Terrible to her. The greatest weakness of all, but she would admit it for him.
In the back of his mind, Carl knew her plea was just one more manipulation, another trick to get him to do her bidding. Usually he would do so without prompting. It was different now. And yet, he still knew he would do it.
“If I do this,” he whispered back. “You might never trust me again.”
Kate took his hands in hers and brought them up to her face. “If you don’t, I will never trust you again. How much is that ‘might’ worth to you?”
He nodded.
***
Kate’s mind was… not somewhere he wanted to be. Most people filled their memories with family and friends and happiness. Some bad things, too, but people always tried to shy away from the dark parts of their past. He knew she thought differently and didn’t suppose for a moment he’d see those kinds of things in her. He hadn’t put much consideration into what might be in place of these memories. Maybe him and their jobs. Maybe nothing at all. Kate was good at lying to herself, and he had seen the bricked-over doors of repressed memories before.
The howling abyss of completely redacted memories was new. Their various crimes were prominent enough, but the sheer amount of empty space made him shiver. Not just bricked-up doors, there were whole corridors of her mind covered in nothing but dry wall, wallpaper and black paint over things that used to be. She’d erased them so well he couldn’t even guess what had been there before. If Kate could repress so well, why did she need him to do it for her?
His question was answered when he found more recent memories. He saw the moment she put it all together. Everything from then on was covered in a thick red layer. Not quite fog and not quite solid, it sludged over every inch of her memories of the baby, painting everything the color of livid gore so she wouldn’t be able to block out a second of it.
When Carl moved too close to the red, it pressed out towards him, rolling in like fog. It made contact with his skin and searing pain ripped through him. Wherever it touched, he felt Kate’s agony. It boiled up inside him and hurt until he hated the world. Kate thought too much of herself to contemplate suicide, but the reflection of her memories told him how close she really was. She couldn’t abide the parasite he forced on her.
He took a deep breath and started cutting the memories away. He cut until his fingers bled and his eyes ached. All the red, all the hate and pain. He’d done it to her, and it was his job to make her forget.
If he did his job right, she would never know.
***
“Carl!”
A sharp slap to his face sent his ears ringing. He tried to breathe.
“Carl!”
Another swing to his cheek. This one he caught before it could land. “What?” he gasped. The tang of copper rose in his mouth, and his head felt like it was stuffed with needles. That only happened after—
It came back, sharp and fast. What Kate had told him to do…
“Where are we?” Proving he was awake, she started talking. He needed to listen, but it was too much. He hadn’t thought up his lie yet. He had no clue how he was going to convince her. What he was even convincing her of.
“Carl!” she shouted again. “Are you listening?”
“Yes,” he said, very much not listening. He still needed a plan. But he was so tired from using his powers and could barely focus. At this point, all he could give her was the truth.
Would that work?
“Kate! Shut up!” He cut her off mid-stream and focused as best as he could. The blinding headache was subsiding, and he could think now. Tell the truth. It had to work.
She stopped cold and glared at him. “What is going on? Tell me right now.”
“I’m trying.” He took a moment to steady himself, then looked into her eyes.
“Something bad happened,” he said. “Someone... hurt you. Us. They betrayed you. Hurt you. Tried to destroy everything you had.” Carl swallowed the lump in his throat. None of it was a lie. After months blindly pursuing what he wanted, he finally saw what he’d really done to her.
“We’re fine now. We’re safe,” he said before she could interrupt. “That’s the important thing: we’re safe, and we’ll never have to deal with them again. All of our planned jobs went off without a hitch. We don’t have any rebuilding to do. Everything is fine now.”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times as she thought. “What’s the catch?” Kate asked once she’d digested. Her hands gripped his arms, nails leaving imprints in his skin. Good, he thought. He deserved her punishment, however unconscious.
“You are,” Carl whispered back. “It’s why you don’t remember.”
He didn’t even have to say it. “I asked you to take it from me?”
He nodded. “You said knowing was worse. You said it was a violation of how we live our life, and you didn’t want to know. You asked me to take it away, and I did.”
The faraway glaze settled over her eyes. The one she got when she was locked inside her own head, planning or whatever she did. Carl knew she was slotting together the scenarios, ranking what would possibly make her think of this as the better option. The reality of what actually happened would never enter into her mental spreadsheets.
After a few moments, the glaze receded, and she came back. Whatever possibilities she thought of, she had one to satisfy her. He didn’t even have to lie. Her mind would do it all for him.
“How long?” she asked.
Twenty-seven weeks, four days, twenty-two hours and fifty-three minutes. “About seven months.” He shrugged.
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Hey,” Carl whispered. He took her face in his hands and brought their foreheads together. “It’ll be okay. It’s all behind us now.”
“Yes,” she said. “Tell me one thing.”
“Anything.” It was his promise to her so many years ago, and it had never felt more true.
“Did I make them suffer?” she whispered. “Whoever did this. Did I make them suffer for it?”
He couldn’t stand to look at her anymore. He pulled her into a hug and tried to ignore the way her skin twitched at the contact. The muscles of her back tensed more than they used to. She doesn’t know, he thought to himself over and over. There
was no way for her to know.
“Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
About the Author
Andrea R. Blackwell was born in Upstate New York (the part up near Canada). She's been writing since before she could spell correctly, and yes, spell check is one of her best friends. She moved to Arizona in 2011 and is having a grand old time so far.
Blackwell is currently working on a series of books about the superhero Mr. Insulator, a man who just wants to use his unorthodox powers to help people. The first book _The Life and Death of Mr. Insulator_ was completed during NaNoWriMo 2011. She is working to publish Mr. Insulator's stories, so stay tuned.
About the Cover Artist
Kelly Shorten has over fifteen years of Web/Graphic Design experience under her belt. Besides working as IT/Art Director for Musa Publishing, she also works on independent contracts working with businesses on their promotional and marketing products and with other authors as a webdesigner and cover artist. She has been designing covers and marketing books for authors for over five years. View Kelly's portfolio here: plus.google.com/photos/+KellyShorten