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They look at you as if the story is over. As far as they are concerned, it is: she risked everything to save her brother but was able to do finish only with his help and now what is broken is fixed.
(You dropped a glass once to watch it shatter. You think he probably left for the same reason.)
But they are wrong. This isn’t the end of some dark and gloomy tale; this isn’t the beginning of anything shiny and new. This is the turning point and this is your chance.
(Once, you loved and were loved. You ran and jumped and thought and played and- no. That was not real. You know this.)
They take you back with them, all smiles and pretend concern. Miles and miles of sand and sun, hot through the glass of the dark car, your brother’s hand cold on top of your’s. He won’t let you go.
(He did, before. But you owe him even if you can’t quite remember why, so you forgive him for this.)
There is a house, a quaint little place that comes with a woman. She looks at you, looks through you and you start to worry. She is confused and concerned and you rush upstairs, where she said the bedrooms are. She can’t look at you- she’ll know. For this to work, she will have to go. How many people will he destroy?
(Often, late at night, after Red Bull and bright computer screens, you think that maybe you aren’t quite right. Sometimes you dream, and you wake with déjà vu over impossible things. Sometimes you try to remember anything from before and there is almost but not quite something there.)
You left a hospital a while back. They declared you cured and just warned you over believing impossible things again. But that was not any trouble- your brother is the only reality you have ever know. It was the time before that, before he made Joshua go away, that was impossible.
(You’ve never had a real family. You never will have a real family. You know this.)
It is dark when you get out of bed
(You do not like the dark.)
and walk, floors creaking, towards Joshua’s room. You would say good-bye, but he would get concerned and maybe start trying to convince you to not leave. So you keep walking. Before you can make him regret what he has done to you, you must make sure the woman with the piercing eyes will not talk. She sees you. She would ruin everything before you could start. She sees you.
(Maybe she reminds you of someone. Another woman, who could see what you were feeling and going to do. But she doesn’t, because that other woman wasn’t real.)
It is easy to make her quiet. One stab with your wire cutters and she is still.
(You don’t quite know what love is. You know responsibility and care but you don’t know what love is. But if you did, you would feel it for these wire cutters. For these wire cutters and your laptop; for your precious code and your programs. They would never leave you; they would never hurt you. You are sure of that.)
But then things start to go wrong. A man screams, loud in the quiet night and you flinch. You can’t help it. You have heard that scream before, have felt it torn from your throat a hundred thousand times. It
(Like everything else, you remember the hospital where they helped you in bits and pieces. They said that was a side effect of your treatment. You remember that crystal clear: a cold, hard metal table. Men looming over your body, strapping you down. You remember this and you remember what comes next- every nerve of your body screaming, on fire. Your screams loud and grating and seemingly never ending. But you try to forget this.)
is pain and you pause. Why is the man screaming? His body was not cut; he is not bleeding.
(Your sister fell out of a tall tree in your backyard once. She landed hard on the ground, unmoving, and you were terrified. You couldn’t look away and you couldn't move forward, your heart stopped and- no. That wasn’t real.)
They find you standing at the foot of her bed. You are staring at the woman, considering what could make her pain their pain. Why did the man scream when you stabbed her? But when they grab you, you grab him, you try to finish what you have started but they are holding your arms down and you can’t. They wrestle you to the ground and you cry out because this was your shot. This was your chance and why are they protecting him?
(There are many things you haven’t done. You haven’t had a legal drink or played Jimi Hendrix’s guitar. You haven’t tried breaking into the White House yet and you haven’t perfected your firewalls. You haven't said good-bye to Joshua. But you think that, out of all the things you haven’t done, not figuring out what makes one person protect a man like Arthur Nielsen will be your biggest regret.)
Before they manage to wrestle you into the closet, handcuffs tight around your wrists, kicking and screaming all the way, you see Joshua’s face. You see confusion and anger and you don’t know why. You did this for yourself, yes, but also for Joshua. He took years of Joshua’s life away when he let Joshua continue.
(Nobody has ever let you do anything. Before Joshua, there was nothing, and Joshua was not much of a parent. You have only had yourself for a long time now and you do not set arbitrary rules for yourself. You did what you had to do and that is all. There was no "letting" you do anything.)
When they open the door after what feels like hours, you are relieved. Perhaps they can be fooled again. But then you see a woman with a severe face. She says your name and nothing more but you shiver and have to force your eyes up anyway. This was not the way things were supposed to happen. She walks away and
(Something feels wrong.)
they push you forward. They lead you out into night, sun just starting to rise above the horizon.
(You are starting to worry that this is the last time you will see the sun.)
Then you are at their precious warehouse and they take you inside. If they knew the trouble you went to get here and how little you still knew about this place, maybe they wouldn’t be so casual about letting you see their safety precautions.
(You are starting to worry because they no longer seem concerned about protecting this place from you.)
They strap you to a seat in a vehicle like a golf car and when you start to talk the woman just looks at you again, so you stop. This place is bigger than you had imagined and as you drive through you are amazed at the size and scope of the objects here. Surely there is something here that would help you with your mission?
(You realize, with a certainty that it as inexplicable as it is unwanted, that you will not be leaving this place. You may never see the sun again, but they won’t kill you. You know this and you are scared.)
They force you out of your seat and into a room filled with shiny statues. The man and woman from Joshua’s laboratory stand at the entrance of the room. They don’t want to watch, they say. But the other woman, and him, they come in with you. They force you into a tiny machine and take off your handcuffs. Here, there are manacles, but they are looser around your wrists.
(The ends here did not justify the means, but you are not sorry for what you did. She would have stopped you from hurting him and at least her death was quick. This seems like it will be slow.)
The doors start to close; they are trying to trap you. The last thing you hear, muffled through the glass, is him apologizing and you watch, curious, as he presses buttons. The woman is just staring at you, and you meet her eyes.
(You smell burning apples and something inside you, deep deep inside of you, is screaming.)
You will find a way out of this. You are Claudia Donovan and he is nobody.
(You are afraid that he is making you nobody. You are afraid and something is still screaming.)
What will happen to Joshua now? They will not forgive you for what you have done, even once their blood has cooled.
(Your blood never did cool.)
The man who screamed and the woman with pity in her eyes before in the laboratory, they want revenge. You can feel this. The other woman, who appeared out of nowhere
(You can’t make something from nothing, except when you can. You know Joshua is real. He has to be.)
and looked at you, said your name like a proclamation- she has power. She can do whatever she wants. But him? Well, he’s just sorry.
(You know he isn't. If he was sorry for what he did to you, he would have let you continue.)
Suddenly, you feel nothing. It is dark and the scent of burnt apples are gone, and you’re just there. It is dark and you’ve never liked the dark.
(Once, you loved and were loved. You ran and jumped and thought and played and now you do nothing.)
(Unless, of course, this isn’t real.)