"Do you know what that means?" she asked.
"It means you're already a traitor to your faith... To this community and to my son."
"It means your son is half the reason our babies don't make it. And you know what? He probably gets it from you."
He struck out, hitting her in the stomach with the force of an ox. She doubled over in pain, collapsing to the floor. Pain spiraled through her, the heavy impact sending shock waves through her stomach. She curled in on herself, retrospectively trying to protect her core. Something wet pooled between her legs.
He kicked her. Her breath exploded out of her in a guttural cry. She tried to roll away but he struck her again.
"Stop," she gasped.
He bent down, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up.
"He deserves better than you," Isaac hissed in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin and she shuddered, in pain as much as in disgust.
"Isaac deserves better and he will remarry when you're dead. Someone strong and healthy, with a pure heart."
She had to get away. She tried to bring her knee up but pain tore through her and she cried out, falling against him. She barely felt the chunk of hair ripping out as it tangled around Isaac's fingers. She drove a fist down, the weight of her body behind the blow as she fell toward him. It connected with something soft and Isaac collapsed.
She grabbed at the drum, hauling herself up and limped to the door. If Ibra was waiting outside, she'd be done for. He'd betrayed her. There was no denying it.
She pushed the door open. It swung outward, unimpeded. But it felt heavy, like she was pushing against water.
You can do this, she told herself. You can get out and find someone and go to a doctor. You're strong.
She staggered toward the edge of the community, the thin fence marking the border of their land where it met the terraformed woods. She just had to get beyond that border. One step at a time.
She heard the door swing shut behind her, closing with a solid bang that sounded loud, scaring the birds quiet for a moment before they took up their twilight singing again. She could hardly believe the sun was still in the process of going down. It felt like she'd been in that storage shed for half of eternity.
She made it to the fence and leaned against it for a second, trying to catch her breath. She heard the door to the shed open and close again, Isaac had recovered from the blow and was coming after her.
She forced her body up onto the fence, tumbling over it to land on her hands and knees. She crawled away, struggling to push herself to her feet. Eventually, she made it, grabbing at a gum tree to pull herself up.
"You fucking bitch," Isaac called after her.
She felt something knock into her shoulder and looked down to see a stone bouncing against the ground.
"You'll die out there."
She glanced over her shoulder to see him limping toward her, still on the other side of the fence. He bent to pick up another rock and she pushed away from the tree, staggering deeper into the woods.
She could hear sounds in the distance. People. She turned in the direction of the noise.
Pain throbbed through her stomach, doubling her over again and she saw blood soaking through her skirt.
Ancestors, help me.
* * *
Stephanie jerked out of the memory. She sat up, gasping for breath, heart pounding. A hand stole protectively across her belly before she remembered there had never been anything there. It wasn't her stomach that had felt the first stirrings of life, or her child who'd been taken from her.
She shook herself, trying to push the memories away.
She got out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the shower. She passed the doorway to the kitchen, giving a sleepy wave to Spencer Evans on her way through the living room. She heard a low voice coming from the coms but wasn't close enough to see who it was.
In the bathroom, she turned the water on, selecting her personalized setting from the user menu, and nudged the heat setting as high as it would go. The mirror steamed up and she stared at her reflection as it turned white, erasing her face from view.
She pulled her clothes off and got in the shower, water slicking her hair down around her body. Dark reddish hair, not mousy brown. Her body, not Maia's.
She took a deep breath, steam making the air hot and heavy.
I am Stephanie.
I have red hair and green eyes.
I have 29 batch sisters. 30 brothers.
I don't have any parents, except for the corporation that created me.
My mother sang to me when I was a child.
Stephanie shook her head. I don't have a mother. Caroline shared a room with me. She used to climb into my bed when I was afraid of the dark.
But Caroline was sick.
I don't care about Caroline.
Shut up.
Maia threw a memory at her and Stephanie curled around the sharp ache in her stomach. Hot water beat down on her back, rushing over her to spiral down through the filtration system. For a moment, she thought she saw blood turning the water pink but she blinked and it was gone.
She forced her back straight and stared ahead.
Leave me alone. She tried to make the thought stern, like she was talking to an animal.
Where do you expect me to go? Maia asked.
I don't care. Stephanie crossed her arms.
Stephanie felt her eyes burn with tears. She looked up, trying to stop them from falling but they traced a hot path down her cheeks anyway. She didn't even know if she was the one crying or if it was Maia, all she knew was that the pain was tearing through her center and she couldn't hold it back.
Damn it. I'm sorry, Maia. I wanted to help you. But what was I supposed to do? Your people don't... I mean, they wouldn't let me... I should have just called an ambulance.
I would have gone. You know I would have. I was leaving anyway. Excommunicated for trying.
Stephanie squeezed her arms around herself, wishing she could hug the other girl. By the time I knew anything about you, it was already too late.
Maia didn't say anything but Stephanie could almost feel her nodding in agreement. She knew. She knew she was dying before Stephanie got there.
It's not too late for justice. Maia said. Something about her voice scared Stephanie.
The dull ache in the pit of her stomach shifted. It felt hot and tight, a deep ball of anger burning at her core.
Stephanie shivered, the water feeling suddenly cold against her skin.
What do you want me to do? Stephanie asked. She'd meant it as a rhetorical question. It wasn't like she could call the cops. She couldn't afford that kind of attention.
But Maia answered.
Kill him.
Chapter Six
Stephanie?" Spencer Evans knocked on the bathroom door.
"What?" she called. I can't just kill someone.
You'd get away with it. You don't have any connection to him. And we don't use CSI technologies. Just detective work. And even then, we don't have that many law enforcement officers. It's mostly drunks and domestic stuff.
"Breakfast is ready... And there's something we have to talk about."
"I'll be out in a minute."
I'm not saying he doesn't deserve to be punished for what he's done, I just...
What?
What could she say? I'm not a murderer.
Then let me do it.
With my body?
Do you have any better ideas?
"Stephanie, I really need to talk to you," Spencer Evans knocked on the door again.
"I'm coming," Stephanie called back. She shut the water off and stepped out of the shower.
I'll think about it, okay? She told Maia. But I can't do this right now.
She slicked the requisite serums on her skin and through her hair before tugging her clothes on.
"Stephanie?" Spencer Evans called, knocking on the door again.
"Oh my god, I'm coming."
Stephanie took a moment to straighten her singlet before she pushed the door open.
"What's the big rush?" she asked.
"Something happened."
"What?"
He glanced away, clearing his throat. Light streamed through the window shades, turning his eyes an oddly translucent shade of blue as it lanced across his face. A small crease formed between his brows, like he was trying not to frown.
"I'll tell you over breakfast," he muttered, turning to walk through the open plan living room to the breakfast bay.
Stephanie frowned. He was clearly worried about something, distracted. He sat down at the table and took a sip of coffee. His hands shook.
Stephanie sat down across from him. He'd sat with his back to the kitchen and she felt an itch between her shoulder blades, with her back to the window.
Paranoid.
"What is it?" she asked.
"How's the frittata?"
She forced herself to take a bite. The zucchini was slightly under cooked.
"It's fine," she said, taking a sip of lemon water to wash it down. "Can I have a cup of coffee, too?"
"You don't drink coffee."
"Why not? Everyone else does."
"You're too young."
She snorted. "Not too young to be turned into a spy for a secret organization."
He choked, reaching for a napkin as a thin line of coffee dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He crumpled the napkin into a ball and took another sip of coffee before speaking.
"Don't talk like that."
"You scanned the place for bugs, didn't you?"
"It's not a good habit."
She nodded. Took another bite of the frittata. "So, about that coffee?"
"Half a cup. No sugar." He stood up.
"I can get it."
"Eat your breakfast."
She settled back, oddly pleased with the small victory.
Wow, the freedoms you enjoy, Maia taunted.
Shut up. Like you even know what freedom is.
Spencer Evans came back with her coffee, sitting down and sliding the cup across to her. She reached for the cup, noticing the way his eyes tracked her movements.
She raised the cup to her lips, inhaling the scent before taking a sip. It was hot and bitter and she felt a momentary flush of disappointment that it didn't taste as good as she'd thought it would.
"Happy?" he asked.
"As happy as can be."
He ignored the sarcasm. "Good."
"So, what was it you wanted to tell me?"
He cleared his throat. "We're heading back to the center today."
"What?"
You can't leave yet. You haven't done anything. Isaac is-
"Our ride to the shuttle-port will be here in about an hour. Feel free to pack whatever souvenirs you want, but remember how big your room is back home and that you'll need at least eight day’s worth of clothes for the journey there." He spoke quickly, reciting the instructions without making eye contact.
"But. What? Why? We're supposed to have three months!"
Spencer Evan’s eyes flicked to hers and she noticed a tightness around the edges, a shine of water in the corner, but he blinked and it was gone. Had she imagined it?
"We reached a tipping point last night," he said.
Stephanie swallowed around the lump in her throat. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Her hands clenched into fists beside her plate and she struggled to stare into Spencer's eyes.
She ground the question out. "How many?"
"Eight more."
"Since yesterday?"
He nodded. "You know how long it takes for communications to travel between gates. The news of Caroline was already days old by the time it got to us."
Stephanie nodded. She opened and closed her hands. They felt clammy and cold. She wiped them on her shorts.
"I'll go get ready."
What? What about Isaac? What about me? Maia shrieked.
I'm sorry.
She stumbled as she got to her feet, her legs feeling weak and rubbery. She gripped the back of her chair for a second and took a deep breath, trying to ignore Maia's voice screaming in the back of her head.
"Stephanie?"
She glanced back at Spencer.
"Everything is going to be okay."
She nodded.
If only she could believe him.
Chapter Seven
There's nothing we can do. Stephanie said for what felt like the fifth time. I have my orders.
Orders. Maia snorted. You're pathetic. A brainwashed little bitch who can't even stand up for human rights because somebody tells her to pack her bags.
Stephanie clenched her jaw, biting back whatever retort she might have thought of as she stuffed a pair of shorts into her bag. It wasn't worth it. She was arguing with a ghost. And no matter what Maia said, it wasn't going to change anything.
Her wrist buzzed and she groaned, staring at the name display. She flicked the call open.
"Laurent," she said.
His image flickered in front of her, lying back against the checkered fabric. His bed, presumably.
"Hey, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Everyone was a bit worried about you."
"Yeah, fainting was totally the worst thing that happened at the lake," she rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. "The naturalists usually keep to themselves but the lake is pretty close to their territory."
"Their territory?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow. Like they were animals or something.
"Settler's rights. A lot of them go back to the first ship. It's kind of scary when you think about how many voting shares they have, actually."
"How many do they have?"
"I'm not sure exactly... I just know it's up there. Not quite a majority but still, more than they deserve considering they're not even involved with the general population anymore. And as a percentage of the population." He shook his head.
It's thirty-two percent. Thirty-two percent of the voting shares for less than three percent of the population.
How does that even work?
Settler's rights, like he said. We made up sixty-four percent of the first ship, so our families got thirty-two percent of the voting shares. Our ratio of the first fifty.
Stephanie frowned. "What do you want, Laurent?"
"I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We could go to The Shack. Show everyone you're okay."
"I'm not okay."
He sat up quickly, the image spinning and making Stephanie feel momentarily dizzy.
"What's wrong? I know you were pretty freaked out but there wasn't anything we could do. Or is it your sister? Is she okay?"
"I'm going home."
"What? When?"
"Today."
Laurent gaped at her.
"In an hour."
"What the hell?"
"Look, Laurent, I just found out we're leaving and I have to pack so..." she shrugged. "Good bye?"
"Yeah, sure. Um. I guess, call me if you're ever in town again."
"Yeah. Yeah, I will."
"Bye."
"See you." She ran a finger over her wrist, closing the call.
She sat down on the edge of her bed. Her whole body felt heavy.
Maia?
What? Thought of a way to kill Isaac before leaving the planet?
What if I call someone? Tell them I saw Isaac throwing rocks at you?
You're an outsider. And besides, nobody has a phone where I come from.
There has to be something. Stephanie dropped her head into her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. A tension headache pinched at the space between her eyes.
So now you care?
I cared before. From the second I saw you lying on the ground. But there's only so much I can do.
Yeah... And that's not much, is it? Because you're just as trapped as I was, only you're too stupid to even see the bars.
Stephanie stood up, blind
ly shoving more clothes into her bag. She packed a few random things as souvenirs - most of the things she'd gotten were to show Caroline and she didn't know if Caroline would even...
She pushed the thought aside.
They made me. Stephanie shrugged.
Maia didn't understand. Just because Stephanie didn't trust Spencer Evans not to judge her for the voice in her head, Maia thought that she was in the same position she’d been in. But it was different. She still had family to look out for. Caroline was back at the center. And no matter what, she had to go back to her.
We were all created by someone, that doesn't mean they have the right to own us.
And how did fighting against your community go again? Stephanie snapped.
An awkward silence descended between them and Stephanie wished she could take the thought back.
She felt Maia's anger wash over her in waves but the other girl didn't say anything. She stood in a corner of her mind, hating her, and there was nothing Stephanie could do to get away from that. She could almost feel her eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull, but every time she turned her head, there was nobody there.
Rogue Memory Page 3