“I can’t explain it. It just doesn’t. It doesn’t even play or anything. It just lays there and purrs,” she said as she scratched its head.
“I took it from your memory. If you want it to play, then make it play. It is yours to control,” the Chamber said. Rhylie frowned.
“That doesn’t make it a real cat,” she said stubbornly.
“If you cut it, it will bleed,” said the Chamber.
“That doesn’t make it real either,” Rhylie shot back angrily. “That doesn’t make any of this real.”
“But this is all real, Gota,” the Chamber said. “Anything you desire can be fabricated. You do not have to remain here in your parent’s compartment alone.”
“I like it here,” she said stubbornly. “It makes me feel safe.”
“I see. Perhaps you would feel even more secure if you had someone to keep you company,” the Chamber said.
“I have company,” Rhylie said rigidly, and lay back down beside her cat. “I don’t care if it’s real or not.” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“What about Ryan?” the Chamber asked. Rhylie’s stomach lurched.
“No. No. I can’t,” Rhylie stammered. “It wouldn’t be right-”
“Hey sugar,” Ryan’s voice came from behind her. She rolled off the couch, dumping her cat on the floor and stood up. Her ex-boyfriend was in the kitchen cooking something. It smelled like breakfast. “Did you sleep well?” Rhylie’s mouth dropped open. He was shirtless and had that boyish grin she remembered so very well.
“No,” she said. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.”
“No?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No, this can’t happen,” she said. “Make him go away.”
“What are you talking about, Gota?” he asked. “Make who go away? Me?” She clenched her jaw.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said angrily. Ryan froze in place, a shocked expression on his face. The smell of breakfast vanished from the air.
“Do you desire for me to execute him?” the Chamber asked.
“No!” she exclaimed. “What kind of question is that?”
“That is what it would require,” the Chamber responded. “He is alive now. He is yours. Just as you always wanted.” The thought was both frightening and comforting. Frighteningly comforting. She felt sick to her stomach, and then the pains began.
She dropped to her knees as her stomach clenched involuntarily as though making a fist. Clear, watery fluid began to drain from her, running down her thighs in steady rivulets that soon turned into streams. Something broke inside of her and she felt a gush of warmth flood from her womb, soaking the carpet. She howled as the pain sent a wave of heat flashing across the surface of her skin followed by a sheen of sweat. The door swirled open and the doctor walked in with her assistants. The apartment reformed around her into a fabrication of the testing room. Rhylie didn’t even notice as the tabled formed beneath her, restraining her as though she were in birthing stirrups.
Her breasts were on fire as she began to lactate, producing trickles of milk that streamed steadily down the curvature of her enlarged breasts. It seemed like an eternity had passed before she gave birth to a fat, healthy baby with a tassel of fine black hair atop its head. It had her dark eyes and button nose.
“Remove it,” the doctor said flatly.
“Where are you taking it?” she demanded to know. She was covered in sweat and her hair was plastered to her head. A pool of watery blood and afterbirth spread across the table. They wouldn’t really take it from her would they? It was her baby!
“He must be destroyed,” the doctor said coolly, as though she were talking about a stray dog. “We cannot allow him to live.” Rhylie howled wordlessly as she struggled against her bonds. The doctor cocked her head to the side, a slight smile on her lips, as though she were amused by Rhylie’s anguished tantrum.
“I’ll fucking kill you all!” Rhylie began screaming over and over as she thrashed about on the table, desperate to escape her restraints. She had never felt so enraged or violated, even during all of the testing.
One of the other physicians finally said something in their native language.
“No, I want to hear her scream,” the doctor responded without looking away from Rhylie. Rhylie ceased her threats and closed her mouth, staring at the doctor with hate-filled eyes. “I want to hear all of it.” The other physician just nodded in response. “Humans have one of the shorter gestation rates of any of the intelligent races. Initiate Sterilization Procedure Level 1.”
Rhylie felt a pain inside of her, a burning sensation below her belly button. It was over nearly as soon as it had begun. It was almost innocuous compared to what she had just gone through.
“What did you do to me?” Rhylie asked fearfully, but she already knew the answer. A thickening wave of nausea welled up inside of her.
“We neutered you. Now you won’t ever have to worry about going through that again,” the doctor said, smiling down at her with that sick, evil grin. Rhylie wanted to throw up.
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing this to me?” The doctor didn’t bother answering her question. They left through the door, leaving Rhylie restrained to the table. Only after it had swirled shut did the table shift to an upright position and release her. She stood there for a moment, weak and drained.
Her knees buckled as the ground swayed beneath her. She slumped to the floor, hitting her head on the corner of the table beside the couch. Bright white light followed by pain and nausea swept through her. In a moment, Ryan was by her side, crouching over her. He lifted her up in his strong arms, cradling her, and put her down gently on the couch.
“Are you ok, sugar? You’re bleeding,” he said, kneeling beside her, his brow knit with concern. He stood up and walked to the bathroom. He returned in a few moments with a wet washcloth, with which he began dabbing her temple. “It’s not that bad.”
“It stings like hell,” she said, her eyelids fluttering.
“Language, Gota. Such language will get us in trouble,” he whispered. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Who cares?” she asked.
“I care,” he replied.
“I need a shower. I stink,” she said, changing the subject. Ryan laughed.
“Yes. Yes you do. I should have breakfast finished by the time you get out,” he said. “But first we need to take care of this cut.”
“Good,” she replied. “I’m starving.”
*
The shower was steaming, but it wasn’t hot enough. No matter how high she turned it, she couldn’t get it as hot as she wanted it. She felt like she wanted to scrub the last few weeks away and start anew with a fresh skin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Ryan around after all. He had broken her heart before…but this one couldn’t…could he? Still, it would be better than just talking to the Chamber and petting her cat.
When she got out of the shower, her breakfast was sitting on the kitchen table. Ryan had already started eating. She sat down in her towel and picked up a spoon, digging in and eating the scrambled eggs. There was something off about them, but she couldn’t figure out what.
“So what do you think about having children?” Ryan asked. He picked up a piece of bacon off his plate, and examined it closely before crunching on it.
“Wh-what?” she stammered. “What the hell kind of question is that?” Anger flared within her. She tried not to think about the baby the doctors had taken from her, but the emotions came flooding back, raw and primal.
“Language, Gota,” he cautioned, pausing to frown. “You always used to talk about wanting children. That’s why I left, remember?” Rhylie put her fork down and narrowed her eyes at him. “You wanted a family and I wanted to explore the galaxy…” he put the other half of the bacon down and looked at her. “I regret that. I never replaced you.”
“Stop it,” she said. She really didn’t like where this conversation was coming from, or where
it was heading. They took my baby, she thought. She didn’t want to know what they had done with him.
“I’m just being honest,” he said with a flat expression on his face.
“No, you’re not. Just drop it, now,” she said angrily. Ryan frowned.
“We should talk about it sometime,” he said. “When you’re in a better mood.”
“No, we shouldn’t. We should never talk about it. Never again,” she said. What the hell was going on?
“But I know that’s what you really want, sugar. I know. I know everything,” he said winking. It was creepy. It reminded her of one of her friend’s fathers that was always hitting on her when she was growing up.
“I can’t do this,” Rhylie said pushing away from the table and standing up. “This is too weird.” She felt dizzy and the room swam a little bit. She needed to lie down for a moment.
“We can do this,” he said, standing up and moving around the table. “I missed you so much,” he murmured, pulling her to him and burying his face in her hair. He was so tall and strong. So real. She struggled for a moment against his embrace until she felt his strength consume her. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and she leaned into him, letting herself go. He held her, supported her, as her knees gave out. He smelled nice, too.
“No,” she murmured into his chest. “We can’t.”
“I’m here for you now, Gota, and nothing else,” he whispered into the softness of her hair. “We can do whatever you wish, go wherever you desire. We can have the life you always wanted.” His words were mesmerizing, seducing her. She shook her head pitifully against his chest.
“No. This isn’t right. This is wrong, so wrong,” she protested weakly. “We can’t do this.” Ryan’s hand began to move up and down the small of her back, stroking her gently with his fingertips as he rocked her in his arms.
“We can. You can have anything you want, Gota. Anything at all,” he said in a hypnotic tone. Rhylie closed her eyes and wept softly, tears of happiness and joy this time. His scent was intoxicating; his embrace was a warm, safe cocoon that held her, steady and secure.
“Children sound wonderful,” she finally murmured into his chest as he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “A boy and a girl.”
She could already picture them in her mind.
8
Rhylie lay in bed in the upstairs bedroom, underneath the covers, trying to sleep. It came in spurts lately, a broken existence of dry, ineffective naps and fits of wasteful tossing. Eventually she gave up, and threw the covers off of herself. The shades were drawn in the room, and even though it was pitch dark, the light coming from beneath the door and through the gaps around the shades beamed like flashlights.
She couldn’t even masturbate anymore without Ryan knowing about it somehow, and trying to help her out with a session of his terribly emotionless and robotic lovemaking. She could do without it, as it always left her unsatisfied, but sore. The one time she had told him no, it had gotten weird fast. She had found it was better to just get it over with. She was tired of him, and she hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was tired of the children too. She felt trapped in her perfect life.
Rhylie hesitated at the bedroom door before opening it. She knew what awaited her downstairs. Nothing ever changed anymore. She had fallen into a rut, a downward spiral that was made all that much easier by Ryan and the children. They didn’t care what she did, or what she made them do. Being happy had never felt so mundane and depressing. She finally opened it and made her way past the children’s rooms, and down the stairs.
Ryan was in the kitchen fixing breakfast again, the and the children were kneeling on the living room floor quietly playing a board game. The boy looked like Ryan and the girl looked like Rhylie. Rhylie crossed the living room to lay down on the couch, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
Vorcia had not come by since before the exams, and the doctors had not yet sent for her again. Her life had settled into an endless lull. She had everything she had ever wanted…and hated all of it. The children never fought. They also never laughed, played, or really even behaved like children. They were more like robots than people. Ryan made love like a machine, in a bad way. In a strange sense, his perfection was his flaw, and in some ways he failed terribly, such as showing emotion. He was as predictable as if he were reading from a script. They never argued with each other, and he never disagreed with her.
“Breakfast is ready!” he said in his always cheerful voice. Rhylie rolled her eyes. The children jumped up wordlessly and ran to the table to eat. Rhylie didn’t move. “Baby, are you coming to eat?”
“I’m not really hungry,” she said. Did they have to have breakfast every morning? It was probably eggs and bacon again.
“Is everything ok?” he asked. He almost managed to sound concerned.
“Yes, everything is fine, dear,” she responded. “I’m just not hungry.”
“But it’s good, mommy!” Timmy exclaimed, smacking his lips loudly for effect.
“I’m glad, son,” she said wearily.
“It’s gonna get cold, mommy!” the little girl exclaimed. They were always exclaiming. It was as if they only had one volume setting.
“I don’t care, Polly. I’m not going to eat it,” she said.
“Why not mommy?” the two children asked in unison. She really hated it when they did that.
“Because I’m sick of scrambled eggs and bacon,” she said irritably. The room grew quiet for a moment.
“I always used to fix you scrambled eggs and bacon when you stayed the night with me,” Ryan said sadly. Rhylie frowned.
“That wasn’t really you,” she said.
“Of course it was!” Ryan exclaimed, laughing. “Do you think I’ve been replaced by an alien or android or something?” The children laughed together as well, perfectly timed.
“You’re so funny, daddy!” they exclaimed together with simultaneous delight. It was creepy. Rhylie closed her eyes again. Her headache was starting to get worse.
“Mommy used to think I was funny,” Ryan said.
“No, Ryan was funny,” she said angrily. “I’ve never thought you were funny.”
“I see,” he said. “That’s too bad.”
“What’s mommy talking about, daddy?” the children again asked as one.
“I don’t know kids. I don’t think she’s feeling well today,” Ryan said.
“Oh,” the children said, sounding sad.
“Yes, mommy is very dangerous when she is not feeling well, so you should both go to your rooms after you finish eating your breakfast,” Ryan said in a serious tone of voice. Rhylie hoped this wasn’t about to get weird.
Ryan had a subtle way of pushing her buttons mentally. It wasn’t quite abuse…it was just invasive and creepy sometimes. It had broken the illusion of a normal family life more than once, and seemed to be getting worse.
“Yes, daddy,” they both said. They jumped up from the kitchen table and ran up the stairs. Ryan came over to the couch and lifted her legs up. He sat down and placed her legs over his lap.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked after a moment.
“No.”
“I see. I’m doing the best I can,” he said. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Whatever that is supposed to mean,” she said.
“I…I can’t explain. I wish I could,” he said. “I just want to make you happy.”
“I just want to go home,” she said.
“You are home.”
“My real home,” she said. “Back to my real life.”
“You cannot do that, Gota,” Ryan’s voice suddenly became soft, and serious. “You may as well give up all hope of that.”
“Ryan would have never called me that. Never,” she said, pulling her legs away from him and sitting up on the couch.
“Why wouldn’t I call you by your name?” he asked, and then stressed hurriedly, “Your real name, do not forget.”
“That’s no
t my name, and you know it,” she said angrily. Ryan stood up suddenly, towering over her.
“It is your name. It has always been your name. It will always be your name,” he said coldly. “You will die with that name.” Rhylie looked up, shocked. She began to slide down the couch, away from him. He stepped forward, continuing to hover over her like a drunken lecher. She had never seen him behave like this, and she did not like it at all. She stood up hurriedly, gathering her emotions as best she could. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be bullied by a fabrication.
“Fuck you,” she said to his face before turning to walk away from him.
“Where are you going, bitch?” he asked as he grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched it. Her hands went to his wrist as she tried to wrest herself free. It was like struggling against titanium bonds. She dug her nails into his flesh as best she could, but he wouldn’t relinquish his grip on her hair. Her ankles buckled and she almost went to her knees, but he held her there, firmly. “You don’t fucking talk to me like that, cunt.” His voice was cold and menacing, without a trace of emotion.
He had suddenly changed to something dark and sinister. Violent. The Ryan she had known was nothing like this. He slung her backwards over the arm of the couch and she landed on her back, staring up at him. He moved to stand over her.
“Don’t you fucking touch me! Don’t touch me!” she screamed as she kicked, lashing out at him. Ryan tilted his head and stared down at her with an intense gaze, warding off her kicks with his hands. He worked his jaw slowly. He reached out and grasped one of her ankles, holding it firmly in his grip.
“You know what your problem is, Gota?” he asked. “You don’t appreciate anything. I have given you everything, the perfect life, perfect children. All you’ve ever dreamed of is right here at your fingertips. But you don’t appreciate any of it. You’re just a spoiled fucking child.”
“It’s not fucking real!” she screamed back at him, pushing herself down the couch away from him, but his grip kept her ankle locked in place. “You’re not fucking real!”
“I bleed,” he said. “I breathe. We make love. I eat, I sleep, I shit. I am as real as you.” He gave her a sickly smile. “In many ways, I am more real than you.” His fingers began digging into her ankle and she howled in pain. He released his grip on her.
Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) Page 6