Type X

by M. A. Phipps

  A slight movement in the mirror attracts my attention, and a soft gasp rushes from my lungs as I turn in place. My heart begins to race when I lock eyes with the person standing there.

  “Ezra,” I breathe.

  I hesitate, keeping my distance as I take in his face. A strained disbelief distorts his features, but in spite of that, I see the flicker of hope in his gaze.

  A lump blocks my throat as I choke back a cry. Tears spill down my cheeks, burning my skin and lips. The urge to run to him rips through my body, taking control of my every movement. All I can hear is the sound of my feet slapping against the floor.

  I feel his delicious heat before I even get the chance to touch him. His eyes widen when I collapse into his arms, and although I embrace him, he doesn’t hug me back. I can’t help wondering if it’s because he’s afraid to believe what my physical actions are implying. If he’s afraid to believe I’ve come back to him when so many factors suggested that I wouldn’t.

  His body shifts, and his hands wrap around my back in a slow, cautious movement.

  “Do you . . . remember?”

  His words are a mere tremor in my ear, but I can hear the apprehension that lingers there, ringing through my head.

  I reposition my arms around his neck. Snaking my fingers through his hair, I hug his face to my breast.

  “Yes,” I exhale in a breathless voice.

  His body is still, but I can feel his heart pounding in the very surface of his skin. Each beat coincides with the erratic tempo of my own.

  “I remember everything.”

  His grip on me tightens as a faint sigh of relief parts his lips. I cling to him in response, holding him to me and breathing him in. For a long while, we remain this way, encased in each other’s arms.

  Tears continue to flood my eyes. Tears of happiness, for the most part, although I can’t escape the cruel reality hiding behind this moment. Eventually, the weight of what I’m feeling becomes too much for me to bear.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  I repeat this several times, unable to abandon the guilt of everything I’ve put him through.

  What he must’ve felt when I left him and later, when he saw what the State had turned me into.

  What he must’ve felt when I came back and didn’t remember who he was.

  If only I could muster the words to tell him why his suffering was necessary.

  For the past few months, I’ve questioned my amnesia and deliberated over Richter’s potential role in causing it. What I didn’t grasp then, and what I’m only remembering now, is that forgetting my past was entirely my own doing.

  I chose to abandon those memories—not only because of the longing they stirred in my chest, but because I was afraid that Ezra and Jenner would be in danger if I didn’t. With how I was treated at the DSD, sucked of intel on a daily basis, I couldn’t hide anything from Dr. Richter. If either of them ever became a target of the State, I would be helpless to protect them. Shutting out my past was the only way to guarantee their safety and to cope with the guilt I felt over leaving them.

  Plus, Dr. Richter messed with my brain so often that it got to a point where blocking out certain things, like emotions and memories, became easy. The one positive to come out of the experimentation and torture I was subjected to.

  Still, no matter how much I try to justify it, no matter how many times I tell myself I did it to protect him, I can’t escape the impact of my actions. I’ve hurt him, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it.

  “I’m sorry . . .” I whisper again.

  Ezra pulls away from me, and his hands slide up my arms, coming to rest against my cheeks. Cupping my face, he lifts my chin, tempting me to look at him. With a shake of his head, he leans his forehead against mine.

  I choke back another cry as I push myself even closer to him, and for this moment, I allow myself to revel in his touch. In turn, I reacquaint myself with feeling him beneath my fingertips.

  It’s just as it was the first time. The influx of emotions I was never permitted to show rush through my body with rapid intensity. They ingrain themselves in every fiber of my being until, just like the monster, they take control—manipulating my actions as if they’re an alternate personality.

  A blush reddens my cheeks as I remember the details of that night. Of our one true moment together.

  The way he kissed me. The way it felt to be that close to him.

  I’m overcome with the urge to experience that again.

  “Kiss me,” I gasp.

  His lips slam into mine with a ravenous hunger as his hands move along my naked body, caressing every inch. The way he touches me causes my nerve endings to spring back to life, igniting me with a fire that blazes through my veins and finally settles in the pit of my belly. After being numb for so long, I can barely handle the extreme sensations. Regardless, I need to feel more.

  I need to be reminded of what I was before.

  Pulling him against me, I back toward the showers, one step at a time. I keep his lips fixed on mine, refusing to release him. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to want me to.

  My feet brush against the black bodysuit that lay abandoned on the floor, collecting moisture. Kicking it aside, my fingers fumble for the metal handle on the wall. With one quick jerk, the water sprays down on both of us.

  Ezra reels back, startled. My hands reach up and take hold of his face, forcing him to look at me.

  “I need to feel human.”

  He gapes at me as the drops run across my exposed torso. The wetness soaks his shirt, but he doesn’t move.

  I bring my face close to his until my breath touches his lips. “Please,” I beg.

  With that single word, he’s back in my arms. His mouth finds mine as my hands remove his clothes, desperate to feel his body.

  Desperate to relive that moment.

  He trails kisses along my neck, and I can feel his teeth as he hums against my skin. Three beautiful words rise up to meet my ear.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  Our eyes meet, and without saying anything more, we allow the water to overtake us.

  Ezra’s hand grazes my spine as he zips me back into the black bodysuit. I breathe in when the damp material suctions against my skin, wishing I could just discard the damn thing altogether. Unfortunately, there aren’t any other alternatives when it comes to clothing right now.

  His breath is warm on my neck as he plants a kiss behind my ear. Heat flushes my cheeks until I’m once again consumed by the memory of our entangled bodies. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more human than I have the two times we’ve been together—wrapped around each other and baring ourselves completely.

  If only we could remain that way forever.

  His fingers touch my shoulders once the zipper is in place. They linger there for a moment, squeezing the top of my arms before trailing along my torso in a gentle caress. I peek up as he shifts me around to face him, smiling as he brushes a loose strand of hair from my lips.

  “Promise me, you won’t run away this time.”

  I laugh under my breath before quickly stopping myself. The air catches in my lungs as I’m reminded of the reason I left him in the first place.

  I remember my vision. The impending end of the world.

  I remember seeing everyone die.

  I remember seeing him die.

  All trace of humor rushes out of me, leaving me feeling empty and cold. I know I can’t abandon him again, but I also know I can’t allow that future to happen.

  So, what can I do? It seems like our proximity to one another is what keeps triggering that vision, and it makes me wary of being near him. Then again, I have the collar now. I’m in control, which means that path is no longer our set future.

  Right . . . ?

  “Wynter.”

  I glance up to see Ezra staring at me. His face is drawn, and I can tell by his expression that he’s alarmed by my silence. There’s a subtle question in his voice, and through it, I can
hear what he’s really asking.

  Clearing my throat, I whisper, “I promise.”

  I cocoon myself in his arms, avoiding his gaze. As he holds me close, I listen to the way his heart beats with a strange urgency. Pressing my ear against his chest, I try to discern the reason for his unease, and a part of me wonders if it’s because he doesn’t believe me. Not that I can blame him.

  I don’t believe me either.

  After a moment, he takes a step back. His fingers brush my arm before taking hold of my hand.

  “We’d better go,” he murmurs.

  I nod despite the overwhelming reluctance I feel.

  Following his lead, I allow him to pull me from the room. Our hands remain interlocked, but I can’t ignore the feeling that he seems worried about something. At first, I think his reaction is a result of our brief exchange a moment earlier, but then I realize it has nothing to do with me. At least not directly.

  The instant we open the door, I see what’s bothering him.

  I meet it, face-to-face.

  Half a dozen men wait in formation around the entryway, blocking our exit. We stop short when they raise their weapons, but it doesn’t take long for me to grasp why they’re here.

  Throwing out his arm, Ezra pushes me behind him.

  Scanning the small group, I’m not the least bit surprised to see Quinn standing among them. When our eyes meet, a vicious scowl forms on his face.

  “Nolan wants to see you,” he says.

  Ezra and I exchange nervous glances, and it’s as if we can tell what the other is thinking. Considering the circumstances, we’re both well aware that we have no other choice except to comply. Still, the expression on Ezra’s face makes me question what he’s so afraid of.

  We’re escorted through the corridors. No one utters a single word, and the atmosphere is charged with an eerie tension, bearing down on each of us. Especially me.

  My eyes dart between the men, and I’m unnerved by the difference that stares me in the face. These people are the polar opposite of the PHOENIX I knew just two years ago. In fact, if I wasn’t aware of who was responsible for bringing me here, I wouldn’t even recognize them.

  What changed? I wonder.

  Although I already know the answer.

  The futility of their cause.

  The isolation and loneliness.

  Committing heinous actions that they once claimed to stand against.

  I suppose this was always inevitable. If one path doesn’t work, it’s human nature to strive for another, more logical option. That’s exactly what PHOENIX has done, all for the chance of a better future.

  Or so Nolan says.

  I peer up at Ezra, but he doesn’t look back at me. His face is drawn, and his eyebrows are pulled together as if he’s lost deep in thought. For a moment, I find myself second-guessing if he knew how PHOENIX was planning to use me. If he knew this was going to happen.

  Quinn leads the way, soon halting beside a set of large double doors—made of metal, just like the others. Curling his hand into a fist, he pounds it twice against the steel. Within seconds, the doors open.

  The barrel of a gun digs into my back, pushing hard against my spine and forcing me into the room. My heart falters as I stumble over the threshold, and I’m both relieved and terrified to know Ezra is here with me. Lifting my gaze, I see Nolan and a few of his lackeys standing before us.

  He acknowledges us with a nod of his head, and his eyes linger on mine for an excessive length of time. He looks intrigued—as if he’s only just seen something he didn’t notice before.

  “You look different,” he comments. “More like your old self.” A smile peels at the corners of his lips.

  “I feel like my old self, too,” I mutter, not bothering to hide the snide tone of my voice.

  Rodrick Nolan. I remember who he is now, and I can’t deny that I’m surprised by this turn of events. He came across as such a gentle man before. Humble even.

  I visualize the last time I saw him—back when Ezra made his speech to the people of PHOENIX, assuring them that I wasn’t their enemy. Nolan had been that face in the crowd. The one they all looked to for guidance and acceptance. The silent leader who I now realize was simply biding his time, playing his twisted games from the shadows.

  I remember who he is . . . and his expression tells me that he’s well aware of it.

  “Good,” he says. “That will make this easier.”

  Time seems to slow as a feeling of dread clutches my chest. Before I can move to stop it from happening, two of Nolan’s men grab Ezra while Quinn places a gun to the back of his head. A sick grimace of pleasure crosses the ex-Enforcer’s face when he kicks the back of Ezra’s legs, bringing him to his knees.

  A scream of panic tears from my throat. “What are you doing?”

  I begin to move forward, but Nolan’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Quinn clicks off the safety on his gun as if to echo that warning.

  A crippling feeling of helplessness overwhelms my entire being. Even though I could easily kill every person in this room, I doubt myself now that I have someone to protect. What if I’m not fast enough?

  What if Quinn shoots him before I can intervene?

  My eyes drift to where Ezra struggles on the floor. As I watch him—as I see the threat of imminent death hanging over his head—I realize that I will do whatever Nolan tells me without question. As sick as the thought of being a puppet again makes me, I will do whatever it takes to keep Ezra safe. I refuse to let anything happen to him because of me.

  I refuse to let him die.

  A lump swells in my throat as I try to swallow my anger, using every ounce of willpower I have to shove it back to a place where it won’t put us in further danger. My hands ball into fists as I struggle to maintain control.

  My eyes shift back toward Nolan when he speaks.

  “Now, Wynter. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

  Shaking my head, I whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

  His sinister expression remains unchanged, for the most part. The one difference is in his eyes, which stare back at me with a mocking innocence, suggesting I’ve left him no other choice in the matter.

  Suggesting this is my fault.

  “So that you will cooperate,” he answers. “Now that you have your memories back, you know what’s at risk.”

  I twitch, baffled into temporary silence. Why didn’t I see any of this coming? With everything Nolan’s told me, I’ve always known I couldn’t trust him, so the depths of his depravity should come as no surprise. Still, I’ve been so preoccupied with attempting to make sense of my broken memory and so determined not to use my powers under duress that I never took the time to consider using them to protect myself.

  How could I have been so foolish? How could I have allowed things to get to this point?

  Nolan moves forward, pacing in front of me. Each step is confident, intimidating even, as if he knows he’s about to get exactly what he wants.

  “I need you to tell me when the first attack will happen.” When I don’t respond, he clarifies. “On the Heart.”

  I can’t stop myself from laughing. After all, I should’ve known. Plus, there’s the irony of the situation and the reality that I might have seen this sooner if I had bothered to look into their plans.

  One last humorless chuckle flees the confines of my lips. “I thought you weren’t going to use me,” I breathe.

  “I don’t want to use you. I want to show you the importance of helping our cause. Of preserving mankind.”

  My eyes narrow in disbelief. I reel back, amazed by his ignorance. “Preserve? Thousands of people will die.”

  If he can’t realize the error of his ways, then maybe he can hear them. Although, I don’t truly believe that he will.

  As if to prove me right, my plea falls on deaf ears.

  “More will die if we do nothing,” he murmurs.

&nb
sp; A feeling of nausea grips my stomach, weakening my resolve. Nolan’s voice once again assaults my senses, making the queasy feeling overwhelming me even worse.

  “You’d be doing the people a service.”

  My eyes widen as I’m brought back to my initial time at the DSD. I remember my first proper meeting with Dr. Richter and the similar words he said to me then.

  “You’d be providing a great service, not only to science, but to the State as well.”

  If only Nolan could see the similarities that I do.

  “You know, Richter said the same thing to me once. Before he tortured me. Before he accelerated this disease. Before he imprisoned me for two years and turned me into a weapon.” My teeth are clenched together by the time I finish speaking.

  “I’m not asking you to fight,” Nolan counters. “I’m asking you to save lives.”

  For a moment—a brief moment—I almost believe him.

  Instead, I thrust my finger toward Ezra. “By threatening one of your own?” As the words rise from my throat, something in my head seems to click into place. I didn’t understand it before, but now I do.

  Ezra’s and Jenner’s disobedience.

  The guards and soldier types I’ve encountered here.

  The lack of normal civilians.

  “That’s why you worked from the shadows before, isn’t it?” The realization springs out of me in a quiet, stunned voice. “That’s why you let Ezra play leader. You knew they wouldn’t follow you if they saw how you really are. If they knew what you really wanted.”

  The calm façade vanishes from his face—the mask sliding away and revealing the true nature hiding underneath. At the same moment, I notice Ezra hang his head. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I realize he must’ve known about Nolan. Or, at the very least, suspected it. That’s why he hasn’t been involved with what’s going on here. That’s why he’s been rebelling.

  All at once, I’m hit with the truth. A truth I’ve been ignoring.

  Ezra and Jenner are only here for me. They came here to get me back the only way they knew how. Even if it meant betraying their morals. Even if it meant going against everything they believe in.

  I stare at Ezra with an odd combination of remorse and gratitude. I’m tempted to say something to him—anything to show that I know what he’s done for me.