by Eliza Tilton
The tip of her nose is red, and I kiss it.
“Damion.” My name is a murmur on her lips.
My heart races, a mix of lust and hesitation. As if sensing it, she squeezes her thighs and coaxes me back to her web.
Our kisses deepen.
I miss this. A real kiss in the real world. No matter how lusty a vid gets, it’s nothing compared to the real thing. I ache to go further, losing myself in this moment. I don’t care that it’s Astrid. I just want to feel something. The sweater slides above her waist and I picture her body: the smooth curves, miles of soft skin, but I can’t take that extra step.
My fingers are right by the line of her underwear. One move is all it takes.
She rakes her hands across my back and neck, pulling me closer, deeper. Just as I know her, she knows what turns me on, and starts moving her hips, whispering dirty words into my ear.
She has me.
Within seconds, I’m ready to slip away with her and disappear for the night.
A glass shatters.
We break apart, hearts racing, and I move Astrid behind me to cover her from whatever is about to happen. As I turn around, I see Shelley gaping at us. Her gaze darts between Astrid and me.
“What are you doing?” she accuses. “And with her? How could you?”
Astrid wrestles out of my grasp, covers her mouth, and pushes past me to run out the front door.
I know there’s no way to explain my way out of this. Without glancing at Astrid’s retreating back, I shrug, “Another shot?”
Shelley grunts and stomps away from the balcony just as Roger grabs the bottle of Jack off the bar and saunters outside.
He pours me a shot and I sling it back, not even bothering to swallow. With a smirk, he teases, “So, I guess you two made up?”
I run my fingers through my hair, wondering what hellish reality I’ve stirred up now. I spent the past year hating Astrid, and in one night, I tossed it all aside. “I have to go,” I mutter.
“I get it. You don’t need to explain anything, and you don’t need to leave.”
I let out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Everything’s messed up.”
He leans against the railing across from me, tapping the now empty bottle on his thigh. “I’ve known you my whole life, and staying locked up in that penthouse isn’t good for you. I’m not saying Astrid is the answer, but maybe tonight she was.”
I chuckle at the reference. Roger gives me that cheeky smile the girls love so much before continuing. “You’re smart and talented. You could do some real good in this city, but you have to stop meshing. You can’t hide forever.”
“Yeah, I know, and I will.”
It’s a lie. He knows it and so do I, but he nods and leans forward with a dangerous gleam in his brown eyes.
“How about tonight, you live a little? The boys are desperate for a wingman.”
We glance inside at the previous trio of girls the guys were trying to hit on.
“My first night out, and you want me to play wingman?”
Roger feigns shock and presses a hand to his chest. “I’m taken. You know I’m off the market.”
Folding my arms, I shake my head. “Fine, but I’ll need a lot more Jack.”
He rushes forward and wraps an arm around my shoulder, dragging me inside. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
There’s no way I’m getting intimate with any of those girls, but it feels good to see Roger smile, and for that, I’ll play whatever part he needs me to.
TWELVE
~Ivy~
I let the hot water steam the bathroom while I undress. Sally gave me an old running suit, with the admission that she hasn’t been able to get into it in years. I pick up the burgundy material, rubbing the soft cotton through my hands, and then place it back down.
The last item I need to remove is the bracelet. I stare at the metal cuff around my wrist and stare at the green light.
Always keep it within five feet of your body, and always keep it dry.
Eric’s words flicker through my mind and an image of his curly red hair and silver glasses follow them.
Five feet. The toilet is situated next to the shower, close enough that I can take the bracelet off and place it on the top of it. My fingers tremble as I carefully click the release button and twist my wrist out. My eyes never leave the green light, even when I step into the shower. When I’m convinced the jammer is still working, I let my body settle under the hot water.
The cut on my stomach still aches, but my muscles gradually start to relax. Water churns against my skin, slowly massaging the stress and fear away. I grab a sponge and press it against myself. Vanilla soap oozes out, filling my nose with its heavenly scent.
I’m safe.
No one from the facility knows where I am, not even Eric. I’m free, even if it’s only for a moment. Tonight, I’ll rest, and then tomorrow I’ll go to the address Eric gave me. There, I’ll be able to get a message to Eric’s contact and we can finally bring BORAS to justice.
I can’t forget what they did.
Like a flood, the memories of that horrible day come pouring back into my mind.
“Ivy.”
“Ivy.”
Giggle.
“IVVVYYYY!”
“What is it?”
“It’s your birthday.”
I open my eyes to see Bethany sitting on the bed staring at me. Her eyes dance with merriment and her red hair dances around her thin cheeks.
Not in the mood for her cheery demeanor, I pull the blanket over my head.
Bethany tugs at it. “Come on. Get up. I have a present for you.”
“Present or not, it’s early,” I argue.
Not one to give up easily, Bethany tugs again, ripping the blanket off with a flourish. The cold air makes the hairs on my arms rise. I hate sleeping in scrubs. We’re always in them. The puffy white blanket is the only soft thing in my room, besides my mattress and pillow. Everything is either cold plastic or colder metal. The air conditioner is always on max.
“Hey!” I cry, covering my bare arms. Only in my underwear, I’m freezing.
“Come on, Ivy,” she pleads, handing my blanket back. “I’ve been waiting all week, and I have a session in a few minutes.” She pulls the strands of her short hair. They curl right around her face.
“Another session?” I sit up, the fog of sleep finally starting to lift. “But that’ll be the third one this week!”
Her big smile fades and she shrugs. She’s wearing the grey scrubs we wear when we go for treatment.
“Bethany.”
Waving off my concern, she protests, “It’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine. Dr. Hecks says I need extra treatments, but soon I’ll be good as new.”
Fear clutches my heart. After each session, she comes back paler and weaker. Whatever Dr. Hecks is doing, it’s not helping. I tug the blanket across me, hugging it for warmth and comfort.
“Maybe you can skip the session today because of the party?” I suggest.
Bethany glances away. “I don’t know.”
“Just ask.” I grab her hand, which feels thinner than before. I want to keep her in my room and away from Dr. Hecks.
“Okay, but first your present.”
Her bright smile returns, and I can’t help but smile with her.
“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”
The words fade out of my consciousness as I glance around the party, searching, but I don’t see Bethany anywhere. Something in my body won’t settle. The cafeteria is decorated with vibrant balloons of red and yellow, adding life to the normally stark white room. While the rest of the teens are dressed in our everyday white scrubs, I’m in a simple blue cotton dress that hugs my waist and flows to the top of my thighs. For special occasions, w
e’re allowed to wear one non-standard item of clothing. Our nurses let us order one from the catalog whenever we outgrow our current one.
I worry Bethany is sick again and won’t make the party. I’m wearing the black choker she made for me. No one can see it hidden underneath the scarf I wore—we aren’t allowed to wear jewelry. I’m curious where she even found the fabric to make this.
I see a flash of red in the back of the room and crane my neck.
“Bethany!” I yell, interrupting their song, but truthfully, no one minds. Bethany and I have been best friends since I arrived at the facility ten years ago. With much nudging and off-key singing, the crowd parts and she walks closer.
While I’m happy to see her, her ashen face makes my body go rigid. When she coughs, alarm bells go off in my head and I want nothing more than to run to her, but she smiles and takes a step in front of the table, opposite my cake, pointedly singing with the rest of the group.
As soon as the song ends, I look at her. Old superstitions dictate we never share our wishes; rather, we give hints to one another and play a guessing game. That thought in mind, as soon as the lights are turned off, I think of the thing I want the most, purse my lips, and blow. As all the candles go out, everyone claps and cheers. However, when the lights are turned back on, Bethany isn’t there. Then someone screams.
I run to where Bethany was standing just moments before.
She’s lying on her back, her sightless eyes open wide, with a crimson trail of blood trickling from her mouth.
“Bethany!”
I open my eyes with a start, tears streaming down my face, and slide down the shower wall, sitting on the floor and hugging my knees while the water rains down, oblivious to my pain.
If only I’d known the truth back then. If only I’d known what Dr. Hecks was really doing during those sessions, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Bethany would still be alive.
I couldn’t save Bethany, but I vow to save the others.
As long as there is breath in my body, BORAS will never destroy another mind again. Once the world knows what BORAS is doing, this nightmare will be over.
The release of tears has a cathartic effect, and the pain lifts from my chest. I pull myself into a standing position and turn off the water. My stomach grumbles as I step onto the bathroom rug. It’s been over three weeks since my last treatment, and my appetite has increased by one hundred percent. I don’t feel sick, and I have more energy than I used to. If I really do have a brain tumor, at least it’s no longer causing me pain.
Grabbing a fluffy white towel, I dry off and slip into the running suit, then quickly slide down my pants as the urge to pee hits me. When I’m done, I reach for the bracelet.
The sound of two quick knocks on the door startles me and I jump. The movement causes my hand to knock against the bracelet and it skitters across the toilet lid. “No!” I try to grab it but miss. It lands in the toilet with a light splash.
“Sorry,” a voice calls from outside the door. “It’s Sally. I wanted to let you know I found a pair of old sneakers that may fit you. I’ll leave them right outside the door, okay?”
Pausing a moment to quiet my pounding heart, I say, “Thank you,” and fish the bracelet from the urine-filled bowl.
I vigorously rub the bracelet off on the towel.
Please work.
No green light.
Fear bubbles inside me and I shake the bracelet.
“Come on .”
Another five seconds . . . ten . . . thirty . . . green.
I exhale shakily and lean against the wall. Too close.
I ash my hands, and using the towel, wipe off the bracelet before utting it back onto my wrist, thinking I may have just taken my last shower for a while. I was lucky the jammer didn’t break. Taking a few moments to calm myself, I sit on the toilet and brush my hair, using the bag of toiletries Sally left for me. The brush fights valiantly against the gnarly tangle of knots, but with a little patience, I get my long hair smooth again.
Checking my reflection in the mirror one last time, I open the bathroom door, slip on the shoes, and follow my nose down the stairs. Sally is in the kitchen at the stove, tossing rice into a pan.
“Hey!” she calls out. “I’m glad to see everything fits.”
I slide my hands across the burgundy jumpsuit she gave me and flash a sheepish smile. “Yes, thank you.”
I hear the clink of dishes and see Rob setting the table.
“Can I help?” I ask, moving toward him.
“The glasses are in that cabinet,” he points, “on the left.”
I cross the room and open the cabinet door, peeking outside the window as I do. A black figure rushes past.
At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but I look closer and see another figure dash behind a tree on the other side of the house. The glass I was holding slips from my hand, crashing on the floor.
Sally jumps at the noise and whips her head around to me and for a moment, I’m frozen in fear.
Finally finding my voice, I whisper, “We have to go, now.”
Sally’s mouth hangs open in shock. “What on earth are you talking about?” Her eyes widen as she shifts her gaze from me to Rob.
“Now!” I whisper-shout with more urgency, fearful the black-suited guards outside will hear, and push them both toward the garage door.
Rob turns around and grabs my arm, asking, “Ivy, what’s going on?” but there’s no time to explain.
Just then, the front door crashes open with such force, it embeds into the wall behind it. Rob stumbles backward as guards storm into his house with guns raised and pointed.
“Go!” Rob yells, frantically pushing us through the kitchen to the back door. He knocks over the chairs while grabbing Sally and urging her forward in a wild rush.
Sally slings open the back door and is confronted with a big, burly man dressed in a crisp, black uniform. A red patch with a triangle and circle in the center adorns the right side of his shirt.
She screams, and Rob grabs the back of her shirt to pull her back inside.
The guard lifts his gun, and before I can yell or move, shoots Sally in the head at point blank range. She falls backward into Rob who catches his dead wife. “Sally!”
The fear racing through me is loud and powerful, threatening to drown me. I stand paralyzed, not knowing where to run or what to do.
It’s over. I failed. It’s all over.
Rob roars and in a move too fast for a man his age, he drops Sally and rushes the guard who shot her, barreling into his legs and knocking him down the steps leading outside.
I backpedal into the kitchen near the stove, anxiously swiveling my head left and right for an escape.
But there’s nowhere to go.
A gunshot goes off and my heart lurches at the thought of Rob lying dead.
Emotionless, another guard enters the kitchen and points the gun at me. I hold up my hands, showing I’m unarmed, and desperately try to plan the most logical method of escape. My heart pounds in my ears, muting out what the guard is yelling. The burned oil from Sally’s forgotten frying pan fills the room with haze.
“Don’t move,” commands the guard.
What do I do? I know they won’t kill me. Dr. Hecks will do that himself, but I’m sure they can harm me to a degree.
My mind spirals frantically in the space between my heartbeat and each ragged breath.
Rob suddenly appears from behind the guard. I take advantage of the momentary distraction to grab the frying pan and splash the burning oil at a second guard running toward me.
“Ahh!” The oil hits him in the face and he claws at his eyes, stumbling past me, straight into the stove, where the gas flame catches on his arm and engulfs him within seconds.
During the seconds my attention is diverted, I realize the o
ther guard is still struggling with Rob. Another thunderous gunshot blasts through the confines of the kitchen.
“Go!” Rob yells, sacrificing himself so I have a chance to escape.
I hesitate, not wanting to leave him alone. Red pools in the center of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I cry and dash out the back door, holding in the tears until I’m far away from this place.
The path leading away from the back door is clear, but I hear more guards stumbling through the yard, edging closer. The brick houses in this neighborhood are close to one another, which means there aren’t many hiding places.
There are two guards lying on the grass. One is the guard Rob pushed, and I can’t tell if he’s unconscious or dead. The other is lying on his back, dead eyes staring at the sky, a gunshot in his jaw.
I zigzag through Sally and Rob’s backyard, anticipating the feeling of a gunshot to the back with every step.
The privacy fence is high, but I manage to climb it. Shouts, orders, and thumping footsteps move closer, fueling my steps and lending strength to my arms as I pull myself up and over the next fence, my hands scraping across the decorative brick. The full moon lights a path, and I think of nothing but survival. If I can make it to a public place, I might live.
Sirens begin to replace the scattered voices of BORAS, and I sneak a look behind me. My heart drops as I see the glow of orange and red in the sky over Rob and Sally’s house. My stomach clenches at the blazing fire. I did this. They opened their home to me, and now they’re dead.
I want to cry and hide, but the anger of two more lives lost to BORAS pushes me forward. BORAS can’t get away with this. I focus on that single thought and refuse to let the fear take over.
THIRTEEN
~Damion~
My immediate thought as I awaken is Ouch. My neck is sore after falling asleep with my head tilted awkwardly to the side. The vid worked again, and now I’m convinced it’s definitely some sort of bios glitch. As I watched the vid, fear and panic coursed through my skin in a liquid rush. Ivy was running from more BORAS guards.