by M. A. Phipps
I would be sparing myself that pain.
I watch Jenner for a number of moments, staying hidden as best I can to avoid him seeing me. He’s all alone in the supply room, sitting on top of an upturned crate as he reloads various weapons. It’s monotonous. One after another, he inserts the ammunition, slides the magazine into the grip, and cocks each gun. Sure, someone has to do it, but I get the distinct impression that’s not why he’s here.
This is his way of getting his mind off Rai—of distracting himself from the pain and preventing it from consuming him the way it’s already consumed me.
I shift my weight when the leg I’ve been leaning on begins to go numb. I hop from foot to foot. Lingering. Waiting.
Deciding.
Finally, I rap my knuckles against the metal frame of the open door.
Jenner lifts his head. A smile spreads across his face as soon as he sees me. “Come in,” he says with a wave of his hand.
The corners of my lips pull up, returning his smile. However, all I can focus on is the nervous feeling coursing through my body. It folds in on itself, twisting and writhing in such a way that I fear the contents of my empty stomach won’t remain there for much longer.
He grabs another crate and tosses it down next to me. I lower myself onto it, trying my best to hold everything in.
“You look a lot better now,” he murmurs.
I glance up at him. I know by the way he looks at me what he must be imagining—what he’s likely remembering. The blood. The black eyes. The monster versus the person who now sits beside him.
I smile shyly, but I don’t utter a single word.
He clears his throat, and I can tell that he's just as aware of the unexplained tension flooding the room. Why is this so difficult? After all, I’ve only known him a few weeks.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Just cut your losses and run, I tell myself. Run now.
But I don’t move, held back by the very feeling now urging me to escape this.
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
I shrug. “As good as can be expected, I guess.”
Neither of us expand upon the topic any further. We don’t need to go into detail—it’s easy enough to grasp how the other must be feeling.
“How are you doing?” I whisper. “How did the whole thing with your superiors go?”
He lets out a strained breath and runs his hand through his disheveled hair. “Things are a mess. The news of Rai’s death has spread quickly, and now the people here are even more frightened than they were already.” He shakes his head, muttering under his breath.
“We’ve been here too long. It’s like we’ve been living inside a bubble and too much time has passed without anything happening. Everyone seems to have forgotten why they’re even here, and all the good Ezra managed to do has pretty much been reversed since he’s gone into hiding. No leadership. The death of someone they all knew and respected . . .” He sighs again. “Everything is falling into disarray.”
I consider his words, watching as a grimace pulls at his lips. My heart sinks, and suddenly, I feel torn. Maybe now isn’t the right time for me to leave. They could use me here. I could do some good in getting this place back on track.
Yet, I know that the only way for things to truly get better is if I go.
“Damn it,” he growls. “Where do we even go from here? What the hell can we do? They’re always one step ahead of us!” He tightens his hand into a fist and slams it hard against the wall behind us.
I know I’m only imagining it, but the room seems to shake when he punches the concrete. Or maybe it’s just the tremors rocking his body that I notice. Either way, his rage and apparent helplessness only add to the suspense currently clouding the room. It’s enough to force my hand.
To make my decision for me.
“Jenner,” I breathe. I swallow my fear, reassuring myself that this is the right choice. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” He shifts his entire body until he’s facing me head on, and the concern on his face is just as clear as it is in his words.
I take a calming breath. “That doctor I told you about. Richter. The one who—” My voice cuts off, unable to finish that sentence. I can’t even finish that thought. I swallow again, trying to push away the lump of emotion rising in my throat. “He said there’s a cure for my condition,” I finally manage.
Jenner stares at me, his eyes piercing and hard. A combination of shock and disbelief glow within them, almost as if he isn’t sure he heard me correctly.
“What?” he gasps. “You don’t believe him, do you?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I know it’s probably just bait to get me to go back.”
Neither of us speak as we each become lost in our own individual thoughts. Jenner glances away from me, and I watch him in silence, hoping he’ll understand. Hoping, more than anything, that he’ll support my decision.
After a moment, I lean forward and brush my hand against his arm, forcing him to look at me. Our eyes lock as I silently beg him to hear what I’m saying.
“What if it’s not?” I murmur. “What if there is a cure?”
His expression is blank at first. But within a matter of seconds, he seems to grasp the all-important meaning behind my words.
“You’re leaving . . .” he realizes.
I nod my head before turning away from him. The way he looks at me is unbearable. Even more so than the way he looked at me in my dream. In my vision.
Even more so than when I saw him die.
“There’s something I haven’t told you. Any of you,” I mutter.
I hesitate. Do I really have to tell him this much? Does he really have to know what’s destined to happen, especially considering there might be a way for me to stop it? Shouldn’t I prevent this sort of knowledge? Shouldn’t I let him live the rest of his life in ignorance?
He deserves to know, I tell myself. Someone deserves to know.
“The very first vision I had, before I was even taken to the DSD . . .”
I can feel his eyes watching me. It’s painful to look at him, but at the same time, I feel like I need to see his face. I need to welcome this pain because, when all is said and done, this could be the last time I do.
“It was of the end of the world,” I breathe. “I saw it as if I was there. As if it was actually happening.” I pause, my lips quaking as I remember the one moment that led to all of this. “As my condition grew worse, I saw more of the vision. Gradually, in bits and pieces. I saw Ezra first . . . and then I saw myself. We were the only ones left as everything around us crumbled into ash.”
I lower my eyes, crippled by guilt—just like with Rai. Everything that’s going to happen, it’s all because of me.
Jenner listens to every word, his eyes wide and attentive. It says a lot about his character that he doesn’t panic, but at the same time, that doesn’t surprise me at all. He’s always been the strong one. I can see that more clearly than I’ve ever seen anything before.
A still hush descends upon the room, resting between us for many long moments. When he finally breaks the silence, his words are soft. Confused.
“I don’t understand . . .”
I bite my lip to hold back the tears. “It’s me,” I whimper. “What I am. That’s what’s going to cause it.”
His eyes widen farther, and I know he doesn’t need any explanation other than that. He doesn’t need me to tell him that he’ll die as well. He doesn’t need me to say that I’m the one who will kill him.
Of all the emotions he must be feeling at this moment, I assume fear would land at the top of the list. And he does seem afraid. But for some reason, the way he looks at me doesn’t suggest fear for himself, but for me. Here I am, telling him we’re all going to die, and I’m the one he’s thinking of. I’m the one he’s feeling sorry for.
But why?
“My life ended when I had that first vision. But you . . . you’r
e all still alive.” My voice is soft and controlled, even as I fight through my impending tears. I shake my head. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”
Whatever was holding him back before is broken the moment I say those words. Without warning, he lunges forward and grabs me by the shoulders, almost knocking me off the crate in the process.
“I told you what happened with Rai wasn’t your fault!” he shouts. His hands grip me tighter.
“I know!” I gasp. “I know . . .”
He stares at me for a moment as if he doesn’t believe me but relaxes when he sees the look on my face. Slowly, he takes his hands off my shoulders. I inhale, feeling this burden continue to crush me, in spite of what he’s said.
“But if I had only seen it sooner,” I whisper. “Then maybe . . . maybe I could’ve stopped it.”
He makes to move toward me again, but I hold up my hand, begging him with a single look to let me speak.
“That’s what I’m faced with now,” I try to explain to him. “Even if what Richter said is a lie, how can I turn my back on it when I know where that other path will lead? When I know what it will do?”
“Maybe the vision was wrong. Maybe—”
“It’s not wrong,” I interrupt, my tone firmer than I intend it. “They never are. Besides, I’ve seen what my powers can do. If you had been in Bilken’s office when the Enforcers first arrived . . . you would’ve seen it too.”
That moment is hazy to me, even now. But through the fog of confusion, I’m still aware of what I did to those Enforcers—those people. I’m still aware of what I nearly did to Ezra. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and it’s what terrifies me most about this disease ravaging my body.
I can’t control it. I will never be able to control it. It will take over, one step at a time until there’s nothing of me left. It will work its way through my body like a parasite taking hold of its host until I’m just a mindless killing machine, intent on destruction.
I squeeze my eyes shut to escape that image.
“I won’t be able to live with myself if anyone else dies because of what’s happening to me,” I murmur. “A cure is the only hope I have to stop this and to keep you all alive.”
Jenner is unusually quiet. His head is tucked down, keeping his face hidden in shadow. I watch him carefully, waiting for any movement or reaction to my words.
When he eventually looks up at me, his eyes are brimming with the very tears I’ve been struggling to hold back.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers.
His words hold the weight of the world, crushing my heart and soul with a single blow. Their effect on me is overwhelming, forcing me to come to terms with just how much he means to me. But it doesn’t change anything. It can’t.
I try to smile at him through the pain. “I’m so glad I got to know you. Even if it was only for a short time.”
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I bend down to kiss his cheek. It’s a delicate embrace, not meant to be romantic, but as a gesture of gratitude. Everything he’s done, especially for me, it won’t be forgotten.
“Be safe,” I breathe in his ear.
There's nothing else to say now—nothing else to stop me. So without another word, I stand to leave. I walk toward the open doorway, prepared to move on with my goal in sight. Ready to not look back.
But something stops me. Something drags me back, refusing to let go.
Jenner’s hand grips my wrist, turning me around until I’m landing in his arms. He pulls me close to his body and crushes his lips to mine before I can even take a breath. I have no time to react. No time to stop the kiss from happening.
He holds me against him, pinning me so I can't move. Suddenly, I’m hearing everything this moment is trying to tell me.
What he’s trying to tell me.
I can sense his unspoken feelings in the way his lips touch mine. The eagerness. The affection. Even the anger. It takes me by surprise, and yet, it also hurts my heart. In spite of how much I care about him, I don’t feel the same way.
I can’t return those feelings.
After what feels like a lifetime, he finally releases me. His blue eyes gaze down into mine, pleading alongside one simple word.
“Stay,” he gasps against my lips.
I stare at him as the word reverberates in my ears.
Stay.
Stay . . .
“Stay here. Stay with me.”
My eyes well with tears as I become submerged in the memory of my dream of Ezra. This moment feels so reminiscent of that, but it also feels wrong.
Jenner isn’t the one I should be embracing.
Jenner isn’t supposed to be the one begging me to stay.
My heart feels like glass that’s been shattered into a million pieces. The pain is overpowering, even more so than anything I ever endured at the DSD.
It’s only now that I understand why the State is so unfeeling. Why our society is so unfeeling.
This pain . . .
Why would anyone ever choose to feel this way?
Still, I suppose there’s a silver lining to be found in all of this. At least now I know.
That dream . . .
It was never real.
I stumble back, taking a step away from Jenner.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He stares at me, his eyes filled with all of the emotions I felt in our kiss. Then his expression changes until the person standing before me seems different somehow. A stranger to me now more than the friend I’ve come to know.
He tilts his head, looking down at me with a cruel distance that breaks my heart even more.
“If I can’t get you to stay, what will?” he wonders.
I don’t answer him. The truth is nothing will make me stay. Nothing can. Not when there’s so much dependent on me leaving.
“Goodbye, Jenner,” I murmur.
I turn away from him as the dam barring my emotions finally breaks. The tears spill down my cheeks as my feet pull me through the door.
My movements are listless on my way through the compound, and on more than one occasion, I find myself thinking of Jenner. That wasn’t how I wanted to leave things between us, or how I wanted—or expected—our farewell to go. It makes me overly aware of the profound effect this place has had on me, making it even more imperative that I leave while I still have the chance.
It’s now or never.
I plot out my plan of action to distract myself from the guilt. I know how to get to the hatch, so assuming I can make it that far, I’ll find my way back—one way or another. It’ll take a while, but I’ll get there.
All that’s left is to prepare myself, and then I’ll go. I’ll do it quick. Just grab my pack and make for the door. No more detours.
No more goodbyes.
Ezra’s face abruptly flashes through my thoughts. No, I wouldn’t be able to handle that farewell. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.
Not considering how I feel.
I nod my head once as a feeling of determination burns within me.
No more goodbyes, I promise myself.
I REACH DOWN AND PICK up my pack off the still wet floor. My bloodstained clothes remain in a filthy heap, completely undisturbed. I don’t touch them. I try not to even look at them. They hold too many bad memories that, from this point on, I simply want to forget. It’s time to move on—to focus only on what I have to do.
Nothing else.
Flipping open the bag, I peer inside. Everything looks to be in order, and I think I have enough supplies to get me there. Anything beyond that I won’t have to worry about anyway. It will all be provided for me.
I cringe as the mental image of that tiny room materializes in my head. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then, yet the memory of my time there is still overly fresh—like a scar from a wound that will never fully heal.
It haunts me, even more so than the guilt I feel about Rai. And although I had managed to push i
t back for a short time, now I can sense it resurfacing once again. Overwhelming my every thought in a bid to take hold of me, just like this disease taking hold of my body.
Bile rushes into my mouth, and I suddenly find myself clinging to the nearest wall for support. Heavy breaths crush my lungs, scorching my throat on their rise to escape. I dry heave several times as my body is racked with pure, unadulterated terror.
Now, for the first time since making my decision.
Now it truly hits me that I’m going back.
I wipe my hand across my lips before stumbling over to one of the sinks, my knuckles turning white as my fingers grip at the sides of the metal.
In. Out. In. Out. My inhalations are deep and slow as I try to empty my mind of any negative thoughts and remember why I decided to do this in the first place.
Once again, I picture Ezra. I see his face, his tears, as well as that final moment. It’s enough to remind me that there’s no other way.
This is my only option.
My eyes dart up to the mirror above the sink. It’s strange, but the person in the reflection doesn’t look like me. Maybe that’s because it isn’t. Or rather, it won’t be. Maybe what I’m seeing is the part of me I have to abandon in order to move forward.
All the pain.
All the feelings.
They’ll remain here, buried with her.
I walk back to my quarters as if in a trance. I go through the motions of preparing myself to leave, but it’s as if someone else is controlling my body. I can’t help but wonder if it will be this way from now on. Without attachments or emotion, will I always feel this inhuman?
My legs give out as I slump down on the bed. My eyes scan the length of the room, taking in everything around me one last time—everything I’ve come to care about, even in the few short weeks I’ve been here. I take it all in, and I say goodbye to it.
My hands fidget in my lap, my fingers twiddling restlessly. An uncomfortable dull pain occasionally shoots through my one wrist, but I hardly notice it. The ache is insignificant now—a drastic difference to how it was before.
Thinking about it only makes me think of Rai.
I glance down, running my free hand along the raised incision. I stare at the healing skin. The black stitches holding it together.