Only Ever Yours

by Louise O'Neill

“What the room is for.” He looks away.

  “Like what?” I persist, staring at the squiggles of letters and words, wishing I could understand them.

  He exhales loudly. “Well, this door is Taboo, this one is Reluctance, this one is Non-Consent. That one over there is Back Door, this one is Group. There are loads of them,” he says, the words rushing out.

  “I understand,” I say, even though I don’t understand, not at all. As he fidgets with the keypad, the camera moves forward through the hall, more and more doors on each side. The motion stops, a hand with scarlet-painted nails coming into view as it rests on the door.

  “Whose hand is that?” I ask.

  “Mine.”

  “Sure it is. Which is why you have nail polish on. That’s a girl’s hand.”

  “Well, it’s not my hand, obviously. But it’s my avatar’s hand. An avatar is sort of like my character in this game. I control her.” He tries to explain, sensing my confusion. “She’s my visual alter ego. Does that make sense?”

  “But that’s a real hand, not a computer graphic,” I say, more baffled than ever.

  “Well, yeah, the game is called Controlled concubines. Look, I’ll show you.”

  He presses a few buttons and the camera pulls back, cutting to a different angle so that I can see the full scope of the hall. Standing at the door, with that same perfectly manicured hand resting on the handle, is a young concubine in a scarlet leotard, cut high on her slim thighs. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face in a ponytail and there are wires wrapped around her head, like tentacles.

  “What are those wires for?”

  “That’s what connects the concubine to my eFone. While she’s hooked up to the sensors, all of her movements are completely controlled by me.”

  I squint at the screen. Her skin is tanned and smooth, as dark as mine, her hair the same lustrous brown, her vacant eyes tinged with yellow. The similarities between us are uncanny.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I look away, afraid to agree in case it’s some sort of test of my modesty.

  The concubine pushes the door open. All the walls of the room within are made of a quilted black pleather, a steel pole like a ballet barre bordering it. Hundreds of implements are hanging from the pole: whips, paddles, cuffs, and shackles. There are two other concubines there, both in red latex catsuits. They turn as the door opens, their faces as blank as that of Darwin’s concubine, gesturing at the newcomer to join in. One of them is brandishing an iron rod, wiggling her hips lewdly.

  “Wrong room,” Darwin mutters as he makes the concubine leave, shutting the door behind her. She waits passively until he makes her walk toward a different door.

  “This is the Sapphica room,” he tells me. The avatar strides into the room and walks up to the nearest available concubine, a black girl with a huge blond afro. He makes the avatar grab the other girl by the head, her red-painted nails digging into those yellow curls. She pulls her near, and their mouths are touching, their tongues are touching. They’re kissing. There are two girls kissing. The screen cuts out, Darwin cursing under his breath. “My battery must be dead.” He shoves the fone back into his pocket. I’m too shocked to speak and he pushes his dark curls off his forehead uncomfortably. “Some guys are into it.”

  Are you into it? Is that why you showed this to me?

  “Then why haven’t we been instructed in this? If it’s something we might have to do if we become concubines, we should have classes in this. Why haven’t I heard of it before?”

  “Leave it, freida,” he snaps, and we both reel from the harshness of his tone. He’s never spoken to me like that before.

  “Sorry.” He reaches his hand out to cover mine and my gut clenches at the touch of his skin. “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “I won’t be upset.”

  “It was years ago,” he says emphatically. “I wasn’t even born. It’s a waste of time even talking about it.”

  We stare at each other in silence, waiting it out to see who will crack. After years of dealing with megan, I’m not surprised when he groans in defeat.

  “Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?” he asks again.

  “I swear, Darwin. You can trust me.”

  “It was years ago, remember,” he begins, and I have to lean in closer to hear him, our faces nearly touching. His aftershave is making me woozy, something dissolving to liquid inside me. I nod at him to continue, just keep talking. If he starts kissing me again, I know that I’ll forget all about female aberrants.

  “These two eves were best friends. The chastities thought they spent so much time together because they were friends, but it turned out to be more than that. They fell in love.”

  “What?” I jerk up, hitting his nose with my forehead, and he chokes backs a howl of pain. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” I jabber, ignoring the dull ache forming across my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Anyway …” he laughs it off, “they tried to run away together.”

  “What?” I say in shock. “But how did they get out? The entrance to the trains runs out of the chastities’ quarters.”

  “They didn’t get very far.” He stretches away from me, and I want to reach out and pull him close again. “They were caught,” he mumbles almost unintelligibly, “and punished.”

  “How were they punished?”

  “It’s not like they were innocent,” he says, kicking his foot off the mirrored ground beneath us. “They deserved to be punished … They had to be punished,” he says again, like he’s trying to persuade me. Or himself. “My dad said the Zone had to set an example.”

  “So what happened?” I’m holding my breath, every instinct telling me I don’t want to know the answer.

  “The Father was fair.”

  I nod automatically. Of course He was fair. He’s always fair.

  “He married them off to lower-ranked Inheritants whose wives had died unexpectedly in son-birth. But they wouldn’t obey the rules. One of their husbands caught them together, in his bed.” I gasp at the audacity. They must have been desperate. “It didn’t matter that it was two women,” Darwin continues, scratching roughly at his neck. “It was still adultery. So the adultery sentence still stood.”

  “What’s the adultery sentence?”

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  “Did they throw them on the pyre? Or did they send them Underground?” I can’t stop myself. I need to know.

  “Not exactly,” he says simply, and I feel goosebumps break out across my skin.

  “Tell me.”

  “They … Look, freida, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Tell me.” I cup his chin in my hand and turn his face toward mine, staring at him steadily until he continues.

  “First they tried to rehabilitate them again. ‘Straighten’ them out, force them to enjoy the love of a good man. Quite a few good men, if the stories are true.” I don’t move, and he hesitates again, clearly wishing he had never started this conversation. “When that didn’t work out, they were sent Underground for a few weeks. For the usual genetic testing, you know. To see if they could find the faulty wiring.”

  “And after that?” He doesn’t answer. “Darwin. What happened to them after that?”

  “And then …” he takes a deep breath, forcing the words out, “they sewed up their … er, their … you know, their private parts. And then they shot them. Two clean bullets right through the brain.”

  The room swarms, our reflections looming from the mirrors and pressing in on me, stealing the oxygen from my lungs.

  “Did your dad set that sentence?”

  No answer.

  “Did he?” I ask again as he looks at me helplessly.

  “It’s standard for companions who commit adultery.”

  I try to appear blasé, but I’m too stunned to make a good job of it.

  “My dad was in a difficult position,” he says. “He had to … They weren’t even trying to control the
ir unnatural urges, freida. My dad says that the whole Zone would fall apart if everyone did that. We all have to play our part in order to survive.” He reaches out to hold my hand. “They introduced Isolation for eves after that. Why do you think it is so strictly enforced?”

  Not always, I think. Not when isabel was involved.

  “Why haven’t we heard of this before?” I say. “Wouldn’t it have been on TV or on the Nature Channel?”

  “Ah, the all-knowing Nature Channel,” he teases, but I don’t laugh. He sighs. “It’s censored, freida.”

  “Do the chastities know?”

  “Probably not. It was years ago and the Genetic Engineers isolated the Rainbow24 gene in women after that so it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “Then why enforce Isolation?”

  “To be safe, I guess. I reckon they’re afraid that if they mention the Sapphica idea at all, even just as a method to turn guys on, that the eves might get ideas.”

  “But what about the concubines in this game? What if they ‘get ideas’?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “They don’t remember anything that happens while they’re hooked up to the sensors. So it’s okay, you know? They don’t feel anything anyway.”

  That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To switch off all these emotions. Not to have to feel so much. But not like that. Never like that.

  The bell rings and we both flinch, startled by the interruption. I get to my feet, feeling older than I ever have before.

  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Darwin says, grabbing my hand to stop me from leaving. He lowers his voice. “It’s just, well, my dad would kill me. I only told you because I trust you. Promise me you’ll keep it a secret.”

  “I promise,” I reassure him, warmth spreading through me. I can have secrets too.

  And we walk out of the cupboard and into the classroom together, but this time he doesn’t let go of my hand.

  Chapter 22

  “Where’s isabel?” cara asks at breakfast the next morning, pointing at isabel’s customary place, now empty.

  “That’s weird.” daria turns to me. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer coldly, despising the weakness in me that still wishes I did.

  “And who cares?” megan smiles at me. “Right, freida?”

  “Exactly,” I say, and I feel an irrational chill. Grabbing my cream blazer from the back of my chair, I wrap it around me like a shield.

  “I heard they had to force-feed her through a tube inserted into her stomach.”

  “I heard they had to tie her down while chastity-anne shoved kcal enhancers down her throat.”

  “No, I heard …”

  “… I heard …”

  The following Monday, isabel returns to class, although rumor has it she’s still banned from the Nutrition Center so they can monitor her food intake more carefully. You can see a hint of flesh gradually reemerging, like she’s growing a new skin. She’s beautiful, but it’s a faded beauty now, as if she’s been washed too many times. It makes it easier for me, in a way. It lends her an unfamiliarity.

  Beep. Beeeeep.

  I accept the VideoChat request, placing my ePad on my bedside locker and squatting on the floor. megan told me the angle is more flattering this way.

  “Hey.”

  megan has called a conference VideoChat with me and the twins so liz and jessie can tell us their latest plan to waste time before bedtime.

  “I think we should each send her a MyFace message,” jessie declares.

  “Who? isabel?” I smile at my image on the screen to check that I don’t have lipstick on my teeth. jessie copies me, dabbing at the corners of her lips.

  “Ooh, I love your nail art,” I say, catching sight of her houndstooth-printed nails.

  “Oh, thanks!” A compliment from me is worth having these days. “I got it done today.”

  “Can we forget about nail art? Let’s not get …” megan pauses, staring at me intently through the screen. She knows what I’m trying to do. “… distracted.”

  “What kind of messages?” she asks the twins, giving them full responsibility, or blame in case of a mishap.

  “Well, we didn’t think that it’s fair that she’s wasting perfectly good Compound funding,” jessie says piously. “And we think she should be aware of how we feel.”

  “What do you think, freida?” megan applies more lip gloss, until her mouth resembles an oil slick.

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I asked you first.”

  I shift away from the camera, sitting on the cold tiled floor and stretching my legs out in front of me, ignoring the throbbing as blood flows back into my limbs. I adjust the screen to get rid of the glare from the overhead lamps. The screen is divided into three squares, each face within a square, all waiting patiently for my reply.

  “It seems a bit cruel,” I admit, and the twins frown in disappointment.

  “It’s only a joke!” liz says.

  “It would be funny.” jessie pouts, sticking her lower lip out.

  “I totally get it. You were friends for such a long time. It is very freida to feel loyal to her,” megan says. I’m not sure if “very freida” is a compliment. “Especially after the way she treated you.”

  “What do you mean—the way she treated me?”

  “Come on, freida. Everyone was talking about it, saying how you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. It was all anyone could talk about for ages. Obviously we were all on your side,” she rushes to reassure me as my lips become pinched. “I just think it’s amazing how forgiving you are. Especially when she clearly doesn’t give a shit about you.”

  I feel a hot flush of humiliation at the thought of everyone talking about how I had been exiled like a leper. I picture them all on VideoChat, listing my faults, deciding which one of my many deficiencies it must have been that made isabel give up on me.

  “Let’s do it,” a strange voice says.

  “Oh, freida, are you sure?” megan asks, but her eyes are dancing with excitement. “Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

  “It’s only a joke, right?” that voice says again.

  The twins take out their eFones, logging onto MyFace and recording a private message for isabel … dead … everyone hates you … worthless … They erupt into fits of giggles and cut the message short.

  “You two are useless!” megan laughs with them. “You can never keep a straight face.”

  “You think you’re better? Prove it!”

  “No.” megan points at the camera. Pointing at me. “You’re next.”

  isabel’s information is still saved as a short cut so it instantly logs onto her MyFace account. Her page is empty; no one has posted anything publicly in months. She might as well be dead.

  “You don’t have to do this,” megan says again in a soft voice. “I know how much you care about her.”

  I look at her sharply. Is she implying that there is something unnatural about my friendship with isabel?

  “I don’t care about her that much.” I’m normal. I need them to know that I’m normal. “I never think about her.”

  “Too busy thinking about Darwin!” jessie teases, and I nod eagerly.

  “Your turn then.” megan’s eyes narrow with a hint of challenge and I have to remind myself of isabel, drifting away from me all year. Our friendship was my life buoy, the only thing keeping me alive, and she snatched it away from me without a moment’s hesitation. Something hardens in me, like cement drying around my heart.

  I don’t care. I don’t care about her either.

  “What’s going on with you and isabel?” Darwin asks, his eyes boring into mine. He rubs his jaw and his fingers make a scratching sound against the stubble.

  “Did you not shave this morning? When you knew we would have Heavenly Seventy?” I tease. “How inconsiderate of you.”

  I lean back, my shoulders resting against the mirrored wall of the cupb
oard, displaying my body to him. Momentarily distracted, he touches the distressed endings of my white cut-off shorts before backing away.

  “I’m being serious.” He frowns. “What’s going on with isabel?”

  “What are you talking about?” I mumble, folding my chin into my chest and staring at my daisy-print sandals.

  “I heard what you said about her when she came into class.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” I sound petulant. “I just agreed with liz.”

  “You agreed with liz when she said that isabel was defective and should be sent Underground for testing.” He sounds as if he’s tired of this. Tired of me. “Look, liz is a bitch, I know that. But you’re not.”

  “liz is a friend of mine,” I say, hiding my joy that he thinks she’s a bitch. That’s one less girl I have to worry about. “You don’t know what isabel has been like.” My treacherous voice cracks a little and he places his hands on my bare shoulders and massages gently. “This isn’t like you, freida.” He moves his hands up, his fingers grazing against my hair at the nape of my neck. He’s right. It isn’t like the freida I’ve been pretending to be when I’m with him, the freida that I want more than anything to become. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine.

  “It hurts less this way.” For once, it seems the truth makes me more likable.

  “I knew there had to be a reason,” he says quietly. “You’re a good person, freida.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder so he can’t see my face. A good person wouldn’t have left that message on isabel’s MyFace. He unravels my arms from around him and takes a couple of steps back. He leans against the opposite mirror and touches the silver buckle on his belt. For a moment I think he’s going to open it, slide it off, unbutton his jeans. Let them drop to the floor and pull that frayed T-shirt over his head. Ask me if I wanted him to stop, but I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  “freida?”

  “Yes?” My voice is squeaky. I cough. “Yes.”

  “I just wanted you to know I …” He stops, taking my arms and pulling me closer, molding his hard body into mine. “I like you, freida. I really like you.”

  For a brief moment I feel happiness surging inside me. As we kiss, I whisper his words over and over to myself. I like you, I like you, I like you. Does he like me enough to choose me? Does he like me enough to take me away from all this and make me a Judge’s companion?