by M. A. Phipps
Ezra avoids my gaze when he speaks. “Because it is. I was trying to get you to stay with us. Can you honestly say you would have if I’d told you this back then?”
No, I silently answer.
I was determined to keep them safe. To keep them alive. If I had known the risks they were embracing, I would’ve never let them do it. I would’ve stopped them.
I would’ve left sooner.
Running a hand through my hair, I let out a deep breath, leaning farther back into the pillow as I peek up at the ceiling. A few hairline cracks run through the concrete, spreading out like a spider’s web. It reminds me of what this power can do, in turn bringing out the memory of what it used to do to me.
The coma Ezra spoke of—I remember the vision that caused it as abruptly as if I’m seeing it again now.
Destruction and pain tear through my head, followed by a paralyzing aftershock of guilt.
A soft gasp seeps through my lips as it assaults me again, placing its heavy burden back onto my shoulders and stirring up the reason behind why I left them in the first place.
My hand trembles as my fingertips press against the collar. I never thought I would see the day when I’d feel relieved to have this reminder of Dr. Richter, but now that I know why I have it at all, I realize how important it is that I never take it off.
This is the only way they’ll be safe. Even if it turns out Richter can manipulate me, this is the one way Ezra and Jenner will stay alive.
This is the only way everyone will stay alive.
So long as I have this collar, the world won’t come to an end.
A shudder runs up my spine. My eyes lower, locking on Ezra and arousing one final question in my head.
“What if I hadn’t woken up from that coma? What would you have done then?” I ask him.
His eyes meet mine for a split second before turning away again.
“I try not to think about it. But that’s why I delayed the mission for as long as I could. I knew the risks of leaving you, and I wasn’t prepared to take them. Luckily, you woke up before I had to.”
An unnerving silence crowds the room, making it feel smaller than it actually is. I look between Ezra and Jenner who both seem intent on avoiding my gaze, unsure what else to say.
“So, what do we do now?” I wonder.
If Bilken was a test, then what’s the next step Nolan is planning to take? He wants the Heart to be attacked, that much I know, but I have a feeling there’s a bigger picture that we just aren’t seeing.
The worst is far from over. I can feel it.
A huff of air bursts from Jenner’s lungs as he folds his arms across his chest. His black hair falls in a dark curtain across his eyes, and in a begrudging breath, he grumbles the one answer we’re all thinking.
“Now, we wait.”
I see my father, back during a time when I remember him being happy. Well, when I thought he was happy. He smiles at me, and I can feel the love in his gaze enveloping me in its warm embrace.
At least I had that.
At least that was real.
Suddenly, the image changes. Now I see him the way that I always see him—bloodied, beaten, and reaching for me. Always reaching for me. His lips breathe my name, although I hear what he’s really trying to say hiding behind it.
The farewell he’s too afraid to whisper.
A gunshot goes off. My father disappears, and instead, I see Rai standing in front of me. A smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and this time, I’m the one reaching out—desperate to undo what never should’ve been done.
She vanishes almost as soon as she appears, leaving behind nothing but a splash of red. This brutal reminder of her death.
It’s the only thing I see.
“Wynter.”
I spin on my heel, drawn to the sound of the voice calling my name. Jenner stares back at me. His face is drawn and washed out. Pale to the point he already looks dead.
Our eyes lock, and my feet stumble forward until I notice the stain spreading over his clothes. With a stunned expression, he follows my gaze to his chest where the blood trickles outward, overtaking him like a flesh-eating disease. It consumes him before either one of us can stop it.
A swell of pressure pushes at the inside of my body, and I know without a shred of doubt that I’m the one doing this.
I’m the one killing him.
My eyes squeeze shut as my hands slam over my ears. Crouching to the ground, I beg myself to wake up.
“Wynter . . . .”
A ragged breath escapes my lips when I hear his voice. My eyes shoot open, and I look up to see Ezra looming over me.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes.
A single tear spills down his cheek, and the sight of it freezes me—holding me in place as he disintegrates into dust.
I wake with a start, and a loud gasp bursts from my lungs as I bolt upright. Sweat beads along every inch of my body, pooling inside my clothes and causing the material to cling to me like a second skin. Breathing in, I count backward from ten to steady my racing heart.
I remember it so clearly—the vision that’s plagued my life from the moment this condition first took over. I remember the destruction. I remember the nothingness.
Above all, I remember Ezra. At least, in that moment.
I cast a hesitant glance at the chair beside the bed, and a surge of relief rushes through me when I see him sleeping there. He’s here. He’s alive. Yet, that knowledge is overwhelmed by what I saw in my dream. By what’s destined to happen to this world. To him.
I run a shaking hand through my hair, but the damp, knotted roots trap my fingers. Pulling my legs against my chest, I curl into a ball, resting my forehead on top of my knees.
What does this mean? Why am I seeing this vision again now?
Aren’t we safe?
Isn’t the collar preventing that future?
I jump, startled by the sound of Ezra’s voice.
“What is it?” he asks.
Concern glows in his eyes, but I can’t ignore how much it reminds me of my dream. The way he looked at me.
The way he will look at me.
Turning away from him, I grumble, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Wynter.”
He stands up, and I feel the mattress shift beneath me as he settles himself on the bed. We’re sitting close enough together that the heat from his body radiates against my skin. It reaches out to me, but he keeps his distance—preventing us from touching.
“I know that look.”
When I peek up at him, a smile forms on his lips.
“Please,” he whispers.
I swallow, nearly choking on the hard lump forming in my throat. How do I explain to him what this feels like? How do I make it clear that everything in my life right now is similar to water being poured into a cracked glass? I’m unable to hold onto what I love because it will always leave me.
It all slips through my fingers before I can even touch it.
Exhaling through my nose, I shake my head. “It was only a dream.”
My memory replays the terrible images as if it’s punishing me for lying to Ezra. Then it hits me. Was this why I left before? Was this why I went back to the DSD? To Dr. Richter?
The answer stares back at me with hazel eyes.
The cure.
My participation in the State’s war and my willing submission.
I went back to try to change things. To save Ezra.
Can the future even be changed? I ask myself. Or did my actions bring about the very future I wished to avoid?
Perhaps it was always doomed to happen either way.
The twisting in my gut tells me I already know what the outcome will be, and it brings one daunting understanding along with it. Regardless of the visions—regardless of the multiple choices that seem to stand in front of me—the only certain path for me in this life is death.
So long as I’m alive . . . Ezra will never truly be safe.
“What time
is it?” I ask, desperate to forget that thought. I can’t bring myself to look up at him.
“Not sure,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s late, though.”
Day and night seem lost in this place, held hostage by the unrelenting fluorescent lights hanging overhead. We’re trapped in a strange cycle of timelessness, with each day melting into the next.
Letting out a heavy breath, I stretch out my limbs, and for the first time since waking, I realize we’re alone.
I jerk my head toward the door. “Where’s Jenner?”
“He went to do some damage control. I think he was worried about what would happen if we didn’t try. He left once you were asleep.”
The tone of his voice unnerves me.
“You were right,” he adds. “We do need to be more careful.”
“I guess that explains why Nolan hasn’t come after me yet,” I murmur.
He runs his hand across the back of his neck—something I notice he keeps doing around me.
“Like I said, I’m pretty sure Bilken was a test. By now, Nolan’s more than likely convinced you aren’t a threat to anyone here. At least enough to leave you alone for the time being.”
Based on the look on his face, I get the distinct impression that he doesn’t fully believe this sentiment. Not that I blame him. After all, something tells me that my part in this is far from over.
I prepare to press the matter, but Ezra deters me before I can speak.
“Are you hungry?”
Thinking of the few meals I’ve pretty much been spoon-fed during my time here, I suppose I should be hungrier than I actually am. The truth is, with everything going on, I find it hard to have much of an appetite.
“More than anything, I just want a shower,” I moan.
Ezra grins at me. “I think we can manage that.”
Offering me his hand, he rises from the bed, pulling me to my feet the instant our skin touches. I trail behind him as we approach the door, and I watch as he pokes his head out into the corridor—no doubt checking for any unwanted company. After a moment, he nods over his shoulder and leads us into the hallway. A soft gasp rushes from my lips when his arm snakes around my waist, bringing me close to him.
As we walk, I peek up at him out of the corner of my eye. Conflicting emotions tumble through my body—a strange blend of embarrassment and comfort. The familiarity I find in his company is overwhelming, and my heart races in response to it as if begging me to remember.
Once again, I meet the frustration of my amnesia head on.
Why can’t I remember? For someone who can see the future at will, this should be easy.
So, why isn’t it? Did I choose to forget? Or did my time at the DSD wipe away my humanity to the point where my memories vanished along with it?
Regardless, all that matters is that the memories are at least somewhat intact. They’re still in there somewhere—fragments that are being pulled out of me, piece by piece. I have to believe I’m capable of remembering everything. Of remembering Ezra and Jenner.
I just need to find a way to unbury those lost memories.
Ezra’s hand tugs at my waist, yanking me out of my thoughts and through a nearby doorway. Glancing up, I notice we’re standing in the compound’s washroom.
A shudder runs up my spine when he whispers in my ear.
“Wait here.” Unlatching his arm, he takes a few steps away from me and flits around the room like a buzzing fly as he checks each individual shower and stall. Less than two minutes pass before he’s back by my side.
“We’re in the clear,” he announces, flashing a gentle grin. “It’s all yours.”
Meeting his gaze, I nod in acknowledgement. I wasn’t particularly concerned with other people being here, but then again, I can understand why he would take such a precaution—especially after what he told me before.
If PHOENIX already wanted to kill me once, then what’s stopping them from wanting that again?
“I’ll be waiting just outside if you need me.”
I nod again but remain silent.
He lingers for a second before turning toward the door, and I watch his retreating footsteps until he disappears from view. Taking a deep breath, my eyes trail across the room until they land on the showers in the far left corner. I walk over to the nearest cubicle and turn the handle a few times. Water springs in an energetic burst from the nozzle.
Steam fills the air, forming a foggy layer on the concrete walls and steel barriers separating this shower from the next. The warmth is inviting, so I begin to remove my clothes. The dried sweat on my skin causes the black bodysuit to stick to me, making it feel like I’m pulling at one long, caked on bandage. Once it’s off, I let it fall to the floor with a thud.
Breathing in, I stick my hand beneath the piping hot water. My eyes follow the drops as they slide across my fingers, and I find myself thinking back on everything I’ve learned since arriving at this place. About Bilken. About my father. About PHOENIX.
My role as a pawn, torn between two sides.
Rai.
Jenner.
Ezra.
The memory of what I saw in my dream. The very thought of that future becoming a reality.
It’s enough to cause the air to catch in my lungs, suffocating me as heart palpitations cripple my body. Sharp, shooting pains spread throughout my chest, making it feel as if I’m being stabbed.
“Why bring me back if you know what I’m capable of?” I asked him.
Ezra’s voice echoes in my ears, bringing everything full circle. “For the same reason you keep seeing me in your head,” he answered.
The bits and pieces I’ve seen of him re-emerge in this moment. I remember the feel of his mouth on mine. The taste of his warm breath as he whispered against my lips.
How could I love someone but not remember them? How could I not remember and still know it’s the truth when they say I love them?
Why else would I have stayed with Dr. Richter for so long? I knew I was protecting something, even if I couldn’t remember what it was. What other explanation is there for why I became a willing submissive to the State’s demands unless I was still harboring those feelings in some way?
I loved him.
I love him.
But I can’t remember him.
I can’t . . . but I want to.
The tap squeals with a loud shriek as I shut off the water. Leaving my clothes abandoned on the shower floor, I head toward a row of mirrors hanging over an equal number of sinks on the side of the room near the door we came in by. Wet footsteps trail behind me as I stop in front of the nearest one. I fix my eyes on the glass surface, staring at my reflection.
The person gazing back at me looks like me, but all I find there is a stranger. As if in response to my thoughts, an image ignites in my head, showing me another version of myself. However, this one is different from what I see in front of me.
Suddenly, I know what I have to do.
Locking my eyes on the next closest mirror, I concentrate hard until it shatters into pieces. The shards scatter across the sinks and floor, sprinkling across their surfaces like a downpour of hail. Turning in place, I glimpse a large, solitary fragment by my feet.
As I bend down to pluck it up, my fingers graze along the sharp knifelike edges.
“Wynter?” Ezra’s voice calls from behind me.
In a sluggish movement, I glance over my shoulder. His eyes are wide as he stares back at me. I can see the worry in their depths, but even more, I see the confusion as his gaze trails across my naked body.
My hand is steady as I raise the shard, balancing the tip in dangerous proximity to my throat. Ezra reaches out his hands, and his mouth parts as if to scream for me to stop.
A smile of acceptance forms on my lips.
“I want to remember.”
“Wait!”
I ignore the sound of Ezra’s panic-filled voice and sweep the shard within an inch of my shoulder. My free hand takes hold of my hair at th
e same moment, holding it in place while I tighten my grip on the broken fragment. The glass slices through the waterlogged strands with ease.
A relieved breath trickles through my lips as I feel a heavy weight lift off my soul. My reflection behind me calls out in response to it, beckoning me to face her. As I do, my fingers slacken, dropping the large chunk of unwanted hair to the floor.
My eyes flash to my shortened locks, the ends now sitting just below the metal collar. The difference is drastic, but it’s also familiar.
I study my features. My hair. My different colored eyes. Many long moments pass before I notice that the room behind me has changed. Spinning on my heel, I find myself staring at a set of steel doors. Elevator doors.
The elevator at W. P. Headquarters.
Reaching out, my fingertips touch the face of my distorted reflection. Upon contact, ripples flow across the metal in a fluid-like motion until they engulf my surroundings, drowning everything.
Within seconds, the vision transforms, bringing me to my quarters at the DSD—back when I was first taken by them. My eyes blink, and when they reopen, I’m in the underground compound where I met Jenner and Rai.
I blink again. Hundreds of glass fragments surround me, tiled along the walls in the side room of Bilken’s office. I see my face reflected in each one.
Face, after face, after face.
A swelling sensation overwhelms my body, twisting my stomach until I can’t hold it at bay any longer. I try to fight against it, but I’m unable to contain this power, and the pressure rushes out of my pores in a single wave of release. When it leaves me, I hear the abrupt shattering of glass.
I see the monster—I see myself—in the millions of glass shards that fall around me like rain.
Face . . . after face . . . after face . . .
A sharp breath catches in my throat, and suddenly, I realize that I’m back in the washroom. Goosebumps rise across my naked body. My dark tresses lay forgotten on the floor by my feet. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror above the sink, waiting for my reaction.
At first, I don’t move. Instead, I look at the woman in front of me, recognizing that she isn’t a stranger any longer.
Now, we’re finally one and the same.