The Torturer's Daughter

by Zoe Cannon

  Heather stirred her chili. She didn’t answer.

  “Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” Becca promised.

  Heather spoke without looking at Becca. “I need you to leave me alone.”

  Becca flinched at the coldness in Heather’s voice. “I should have told you about your parents sooner, too. I won’t keep things from you anymore.”

  Heather jumped up from her chair. She slammed her hands down on the table; both their trays shook. “I said leave me alone!”

  In the sudden quiet, Becca felt everyone’s eyes on her.

  Heather’s breath came raggedly. Her eyes looked like a trapped animal’s. “Please,” she mumbled. “Please. Please go away.”

  Becca’s best friend was in there somewhere. But Becca couldn’t see her.

  Heather didn’t move. Neither did Becca.

  Slowly, the conversation in the cafeteria started up again.

  Heather was slipping away. Somebody had to keep her here. Keep her sane.

  But hadn’t Becca said she would give Heather whatever she needed?

  I need you to leave me alone.

  She had thought she had known what was best for Heather before, when she had put off telling her about her parents and led her to the note. It hadn’t helped. If anything, she had only made things worse.

  If she pushed Heather now, would she be making the same mistake all over again?

  Becca swallowed her next round of apologies and walked away.

  Chapter Eight

  A knock on Becca’s door dragged her out of her dream.

  She muttered something incoherent and pulled her blanket up over her head. The knock came again; the blanket did nothing to muffle it.

  With a sign, Becca pushed the blanket away and flicked on her light. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?” she mumbled.

  “Can I come in?” her mom asked from the other side of the door.

  As if Becca could say no. “I didn’t know you were home.”

  “I didn’t have anything urgent to deal with, so I decided to come home and catch up on some sleep.” The door opened, and her mom stepped inside. “Speaking of which, you’re in bed early. Especially for a Saturday.”

  Sleeping was easier than being awake, these days. Less opportunity to think about all the things she was trying to push to the back of her mind. “I was tired.”

  Her mom held something out to her. Her eyes still blurry from sleep, Becca squinted at the object in her mom’s hand. Her phone. She must have left it in the living room when she had gone to bed.

  “Somebody called for you.” Her mom crossed the room to her.

  Becca reached for the phone, but her mom pulled it back. She sat down on the bed next to Becca. “Your phone said it was Jake. Is this the same Jake you thought was working for Surveillance? You told me he had stopped bothering you.”

  She had told the truth… sort of. In the three weeks since their conversation at the playground, they had taken the first shaky steps toward getting to know each other. They never talked about Jake’s past—he never brought it up, and Becca didn’t want to push him. Instead they stuck to other things, safer things, like school and TV and all the everyday inanities people talked about to fill up time. They talked almost every day… but he never bothered her.

  Somehow Becca didn’t think that was what her mom meant.

  She straightened, trying to will herself awake. “How should I know why he called?”

  “I checked your phone. You two have been talking a lot over the past couple of weeks.”

  Becca stopped mid-yawn. “Wait. You read my texts?”

  “You told me you thought Jake was working for Surveillance. There has to be a reason you were suspicious of him.”

  “I was wrong about him. You had no right to go through my phone.”

  Her mom looked down at the phone and pursed her lips. “You haven’t given me much reason to trust your judgment when it comes to friends lately.”

  “You mean Heather,” Becca said flatly. She could always tell her mom the truth—that she and Heather hadn’t spoken in almost three weeks—but no matter how things were between her and Heather, she needed her mom to know that she still stood by her friend, that she didn’t believe Heather was a dissident.

  “Yes. I mean Heather.” Her mom shifted on the bed so she could look directly at Becca. “And now this Jake. Three weeks ago, you were sure he had ulterior motives. Now you two are… friends? More than friends?”

  Becca wasn’t sure what they were. For now, it didn’t matter. She was someone who knew his history but wouldn’t call him a dissident, the only person who hadn’t started whispering behind his back after he had broken his invisibility rule by stepping in to help Heather. He was someone who was willing to talk to her, who could make her forget about Heather and her mother for moments at a time. They would figure out the rest as they went along. “We’re… talking.”

  “And whatever made you suspicious of him doesn’t matter anymore?”

  Her mom didn’t even accept her friendship with Heather. What would she think of Jake, if she knew Internal had arrested him? If her mom was willing to condemn Heather based on what her parents had done, Becca doubted it would matter that Internal had realized their mistake and let Jake go.

  Becca tried to force her half-asleep brain to think. “I guess I got paranoid after what happened with Heather. It seemed strange for him to ask me out when everyone else was treating me like a disease. So when he asked me about Heather, I assumed that had to be the reason.”

  “I can’t control who you spend your time with,” said her mom. “But if you’re going to keep talking to this person, I want to meet him. You should invite him over for dinner sometime.”

  Becca started shaking her head before her mom had even finished her sentence. “I told you I was wrong about him. I’m not allowed to be wrong about somebody?”

  “I’m not saying you couldn’t have been wrong about him before. I’m concerned that you might be wrong about him now.”

  “You used to trust my judgment.” That wasn’t the real problem, though. For the first time in her life, she didn’t care what her mom thought of her. But after what Jake had gone through, how could she bring him here to eat across the table from the one person who most represented Processing?

  “That was before you insisted on maintaining a friendship with the daughter of two dissidents.”

  If Heather is a dissident because of her parents, what does being your daughter make me? “You said yourself, you can’t control who I spend time with.”

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t do what I can to protect you.” Her mom sat a little straighter. “You can let me meet him, or I can have Investigation look into him.”

  Becca’s mouth fell open. “Because you think anyone I’m friends with must be a dissident?”

  “Because he was asking you suspicious questions about the daughter of confirmed dissidents. Your suspicions, whether or not you still have them, are more than enough for Internal to take an interest.”

  Becca felt sick. Had her mom been like this all along? How had she never noticed? “So if I don’t let you meet him, you’ll report him as a dissident for something I said when I didn’t even know him?”

  “Of course not!” Her mom looked scandalized, and vaguely disgusted. “You think I would compromise my integrity by reporting him as a dissident, with practically nothing to support that accusation, because I was worried about his relationship with you?” She shook her head. “I would have Surveillance look into it and find out whether there’s any reason to suspect dissident activity. That’s all.”

  Was that the same integrity that let her get false confessions out of dissidents and make Anna disappear? Becca swallowed the retort. She should be grateful her mom wasn’t willing to report Jake for no good reason.

  But if her mom had Surveillance investigate him, they would find out about the arrest. After that, at best she would find some way to keep Becca away fr
om him, no matter what she said about not being able to control who Becca spent her time with. At worst, she would take that as all the proof she needed, and Jake would disappear like Anna.

  “I’ll invite him over for dinner,” said Becca, already planning how to put it off.

  “Soon,” her mom said, as if she could see what Becca was thinking.

  “Soon,” Becca agreed.

  Her mom didn’t get up. “I have to go in to work tomorrow morning, but I’ll be home in plenty of time for dinner.”

  Becca sighed loud enough for her mom to hear. “I’ll see if he can make it.”

  * * *

  “So, Jake,” said Becca’s mom. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Jake sat in the extra chair Becca’s mom had squeezed into the kitchen, his long legs spilling out from under the table. To his left, Becca watched him warily. He didn’t know about her mom’s threat, so he might not know how careful he had to be. And he was bound to show some hint of stress that her mom would misinterpret. Her mom’s reputation made people nervous under the best of circumstances. Even when they hadn’t spent time in Processing. Even when they didn’t have parents who had died there.

  Jake shrugged like he had when Becca had asked him that question, but this time it looked jerky and uncoordinated. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Come on, Jake. Give her something. Give her some reason to trust you.

  She had told Jake he didn’t have to do this. She hadn’t told him what her mom had threatened to do if he didn’t; the lie of omission had given her a twinge of guilt, but she hadn’t wanted him to think he was in danger of being arrested again. She hadn’t figured out what she would tell him if he didn’t agree to come, but that turned out not to be an issue—he had agreed after only a slight hesitation.

  Now she wondered if she should have told him the whole truth after all. Maybe then he’d know what was at stake.

  He’s not a dissident, she reminded herself. He’s not like Heather’s parents. Even if she does have him investigated, the worst that can happen is that she’ll find out about the arrest and try to stop me from seeing him. They won’t arrest him again.

  Unless the rest of Internal cared as little about the truth as her mom did.

  “The lasagna came out great,” said Becca, a little too loudly. “Thanks, Mom.” She forced another forkful into her mouth. Normally she loved her mom’s lasagna, but tonight even the thought of eating made her stomach rebel. Just being at the same table with her mom did that to her lately.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Her mom gave Becca a brief smile before returning her attention to Jake. “I’m out of practice. I don’t get much time to cook anymore. Some days I’m lucky if I make it home from work before midnight.”

  Don’t start talking about work, Becca prayed.

  “But you don’t want to hear about dissidents over dinner,” said her mom. She eyed Jake, a quizzical frown creasing her forehead. “Becca said you two have only known each other a couple of weeks.”

  Jake nodded. “We just moved back here two months ago.” He darted his eyes around the kitchen—searching for an escape route, maybe. He looked everywhere but at Becca’s mom. Becca cringed inwardly. This would be a great time for you to act invisible.

  The less he looked at her mom, the more closely her mom watched him. “But you used to live around here? Did you two know each other back then?”

  Becca dropped her fork onto her plate. “Mom, why are you asking this stuff? I told you, we just met a couple of weeks ago. Why does it matter, anyway?” As if Jake weren’t having a hard enough time acting normal.

  Her mom didn’t even acknowledge her. Her frown deepened. “Do I know your parents, then?”

  Jake stabbed at his lasagna. “I don’t think so. Neither of them ever worked for Internal.”

  Becca searched for something she could say to turn the conversation in a better direction—the last thing Jake needed was a reminder of his parents. She came up blank.

  “Are you sure?” her mom pressed.

  “I’m sure.” Jake was methodically dismantling his lasagna now. He spread it layer by layer across his plate.

  Above the stove, the clock ticked away the seconds. How many more before this meal was over?

  Her mom leaned a little closer to Jake, studying his face. “I could have sworn I—” She drew back. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her as she jerked up out of her seat.

  She grabbed Jake’s arm and yanked him out of his chair. “Get out.” Her words sliced through the air. “Get out of my kitchen. Get out of my apartment. And don’t you ever come near my daughter again.”

  Becca stood up, knowing she had to intervene but not sure how. What was her mom doing? What had she seen in Jake to cause this kind of reaction? First the weird questions, and now—

  She went cold as the truth hit her.

  Jake swayed on his feet, looking from Becca’s mom to the doorway and back again. “I—”

  “Get out,” her mom repeated, in a whisper more dangerous than a roar. “Don’t say another word. Just leave this apartment right now.”

  Becca had to do something. Say something to Jake, or to her mom, or…

  She stayed where she was, still and silent, as Jake backed out of the kitchen.

  * * *

  As soon as the apartment door closed, Becca’s mom sagged against the counter. “Please tell me you didn’t know.”

  Becca stayed where she was. She couldn’t move. “You killed her, didn’t you? You killed Jake’s mother.”

  Her mom let out a long, ragged breath. “You knew. You knew about him and his family, and you still…” She clutched the counter like she was afraid she might fall. “I don’t know you anymore.”

  I don’t know you anymore. Heather had said the same thing.

  “She wasn’t a dissident. She was innocent. They all were.” Becca stumbled back and dropped, half-falling, into her chair. “Did you know? Did you even care?”

  “That’s what he told you? And you believed him?” Her mom laughed without humor. “You should have known better than to expect the truth from a dissident.”

  “He told me about his dad’s friend.” Becca traced the fake wood grains on the plastic-topped table, in the space beside her mostly-full plate of lasagna. She couldn’t look at her mom. If she did, she would have to try to figure out whether she was looking at the woman who had raised her or the stranger who had killed Jake’s mother.

  “What friend?” Her mom sounded like she really didn’t know what Becca was talking about. Becca knew better. She knew how well her mom could lie.

  “The dissident. The reason Jake and his family were arrested.” Becca scraped her fingernail along the pattern she was tracing, trying to scratch a line. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

  Her mom sat down in Jake’s chair. She scraped the lasagna off her own plate and stacked Jake’s on top of it. “Becca… I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know what kind of lies he told you, but that’s all they were. Lies.”

  Becca turned her face away, toward the wall. “How do I know you’re not the one lying?” She didn’t realize how close she was to tears until she heard her voice waver.

  She felt her mom pull back. “You’d trust a dissident’s word over mine?”

  “It’s not like you haven’t lied to me before.” If she focused hard enough on the wall, maybe her mom’s voice would disappear. Maybe it would all disappear.

  “When?” her mom demanded. “When have I lied to you?”

  Why didn’t she just tell her mom what she had found in those files? Why had she avoided the subject for so long? Did she really think her own mother would report her?

  Tell her. Nothing will happen. Just say it.

  She didn’t say it.

  “If Jake and his family were dissidents, why did you let him and his dad go?” she asked instead.

  Her mom sighed. “Turn around and look at me. This is ridiculous.”

  Relu
ctantly, Becca turned away from the wall and met her mom’s eyes. She had expected to see anger there. Instead, her mom looked… scared. No. Terrified.

  “Letting them go wasn’t my choice,” her mom said. “The people who make these decisions always have complex reasons, usually involving the benefits of strengthening Internal’s presence in society by releasing the occasional prisoner who has reason to fear us. If it were up to me, it would never happen.” She sighed again. “They said, the way they always do in these situations, that Jake and his father posed no further threat to society. They don’t understand that no dissident is harmless.” She paused. “But even assuming they were right, harmless and innocent are not the same thing. There was never any question that Jake and his family were dissidents.”

  What if her mom was telling the truth? What if Jake really was a dissident?

  But why should Becca believe a word her mom said?

  “Do you want me to tell you the truth about why he was arrested?” her mom asked.

  Becca didn’t answer.

  Her mom started talking anyway. “His family was publishing a dissident newspaper from their house. He and his parents were only peripherally involved; his older sister was the main problem.”

  “He told me about the newspaper,” Becca interrupted. “None of them had anything to do with it. It was their dad’s friend.” But her mom’s words had sparked a flicker of doubt in her mind. Jake had never mentioned a sister. She thought back to how Jake’s dad had reacted to her. When he had looked at her, had he seen a lost daughter?

  If Jake’s sister was real… what had happened to her?

  “His sister was connected with a minor dissident group. Public Relations appropriated her for televised execution before we could get any names from her, but she herself admitted the connection.” Her mom took hold of Becca’s chin and made Becca look her in the eye. “They were not innocent.”

  If this was true, why would Jake have told her about the arrest in the first place? Why wouldn’t he have avoided the subject entirely, instead of telling her a half-truth that might drive her away?

  Her mom let go. “His sister was executed,” she finished. “His mother died under interrogation. He and his father were released, against my wishes.”