He looked away. “I’ve been trying to understand.” His gaze swept back to her. “Can you describe the man who called to you?”
She placed her bread on the plate. “I really did not see much of him. The Gestapo brought him to The Center. I was intrigued. I had never seen anyone with dark hair before. He looked fit, but dirty. He wore a dark short-sleeved shirt and camo pants, like you and Rein, and all the others I have seen, wear.”
“What did you mean by him calling you?”
Ellyssa had known, eventually, someone was going to ask her. How could she explain without giving herself away? She might trust the doctor, but not enough to reveal her secret.
“He yelled in my head, Kansas City. I do not know how to explain it. I just came. I had to.”
The expression filling Mathew’s face was hard to read. Shocked surprise mixed with disbelief?
“It was Jeremy.” He looked down at the floor. “It had to be.” He pulled at the fingers of one hand.
“Jeremy?” The name rolled off Ellyssa’s tongue.
The doctor nodded as his face fell. “He had the ability to speak to you without vocal words. Only a few of us knew about his ability.”
Ellyssa’s face slackened and her jaw dropped, mimicking the shocked surprise Mathew’s face had held. Renegades had abilities? These skills were only supposed to be possible through genetic engineering. The Center would be very interested in these extra senses developing within inferior beings.
Ellyssa felt… She really couldn’t identify the sensation. Not good? Shameful? These people who’d helped her were lots of things, but not inferior. Her father had been wrong, wrong on so many accounts. Inferior beings couldn’t have developed a way of survival as these people had.
Averting his eyes, Mathew clamped his mouth closed as if he’d said too much. She could read the confusion on his face as he struggled between what he should and shouldn’t tell her. After a few seconds of silence, he straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back as if he had come to a decision.
“What happened to him?” he asked.
“I think he was terminated,” Ellyssa said. “His voice…stopped.”
Sadness flowed into Mathew’s eyes. “I see.” He leaned close and touched her hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. There was a hitch in his voice.
A rolling sound hummed down the rocky ground of the corridor. “Let’s keep this between you and me for right now.” Standing, he replaced his previous smile as if nothing had transpired. Unlike before, it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s your lucky day,” he said as a female dressed in the same clothes as everyone else came in pushing a cart with a bowl on top. On the bottom shelf sat a pitcher with steam rising from it.
“We’re washing your hair.”
Ellyssa’s heart thumped pleasantly at the thought of being clean. She’d never imagined little things such as washing hair could bring such joy. It was a little silly, but she couldn’t stand the filth any longer. Her head felt like a thick, muddy tomb encased her scalp. She hurriedly gulped down the rest of her lunch while the doctor grabbed a bottle, towels, and a brush from the cabinets.
The female stared at Ellyssa, a small grin twitching at the corners of her full lips. She was tall, thin, and fit. Her eyes were crystal blue and her features were pleasing, with high cheekbones and a small chin. Waves of blond hair cascaded around her shoulders. An acceptable citizen, according to society’s standards.
Her manners weren’t up to par, though. “You look awful,” she said, her nose curled in disgust.
“I’m sure she appreciates your evaluation,” Mathew remarked as he placed the items on the cart.
“Hey, I call it as I see it.” The female smiled and took hesitant steps toward Ellyssa with her hand extended, as if trying to tame a small animal. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, you were pretty out of it, but I’m Trista. I helped you get settled onto your cot.”
Ellyssa eyed her offer of friendship warily.
The smile faltered. “It’s okay. I don’t have cooties.”
Ellyssa glanced at Mathew. He nodded encouragingly.
Trust.
She shook her hand once, quickly releasing afterward. The gesture pleased the newcomer.
Beaming, Trista said, “I have something else for you.” She bounced to the cart and showed Ellyssa a pair of pants and a black shirt. Trista eyed the clothes, then Ellyssa. “I think they’ll fit. Good guess on my part.” She spun around. “You need any help?” she asked the doctor.
“I don’t think so. We got it covered.”
“Suit yourself. Bye, Ellyssa. It was nice to finally meet you.” Trista’s voice followed her out the door.
“Can you stand?” the doctor asked as he wheeled the chair over to the cart.
Afraid of getting sick like earlier, she eased onto her feet, faltered, and slowly stepped toward the chair. Her natural grace was gone. Her muscles felt strange and foreign, but at least they supported her.
Mathew smiled as she moved toward him. “I think it’s time for you to get some exercise,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’ll make you feel better. We’ll start on that tomorrow. Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Have a seat,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll help you get started.”
Surprisingly without hesitation, Ellyssa sat and leaned her head back, dipping her hair into the water, completely vulnerable to attack. Mathew grabbed the pitcher and wet down the rest of her head. He handed her a bottle.
“It’s homemade,” he said, smiling.
She poured the shampoo into her hand, the scent of honeysuckles sweetening the air, and she began scrubbing her head. Almost immediately, her head felt lighter as the grime loosened away.
“One second.” Mathew dumped the old water out into a basin and filled the pitcher from his supply. “This won’t be as warm, but it’ll do the job.”
Cool water ran through her hair. As he rinsed away the soapy dirt, she took her trust a step further and closed her eyes. When he was done, he wrapped her hair in a towel and handed her the brush.
“Enjoy.”
She vigorously dried her hair, then worked the brush through the tangled strands, happy she’d cut it. At the old length, the bristles would have snagged in the knots. She pulled the brush through, over and over, until her hair was almost dry. When she was done, she placed the brush on the table, hoping he would let her keep it.
Mathew pulled a cracked mirror from his desk. “Have a look.”
The person who looked back at her was almost recognizable. Her cheeks were fuller, her skin naturally milky white, her eyes clear, and her hair glistened under the lights. She ran her fingers through the tresses.
The doctor shook his head. “You look a million times better than you did a few days ago. Your resilience never ceases to amaze me.”
Aside from her father monotonously telling her she’d performed well—if you could call that praise—no one had ever complimented her before.
Unsure of the correct reaction, she uttered, “Thank you.” A smile touched the corner of her lips, but fell away when memories of her father hitting her for showing happiness followed.
Mathew studied her for a moment, a frown deepening his wrinkles. “I have something for you,” he finally said. He went to his desk and pulled two books from the drawer. “I thought you might be interested in reading to help pass the time. These are my favorites.”
Unable to speak, Ellyssa took the proffered books. The leather felt smooth and worn from years of use. She ran her finger over the indentations of the titles written in gold. Barely readable, one said Of Mice and Men by someone named John Steinbeck, the other was labeled Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. No one had ever given her anything before. Touched, her eyes felt strange as a tear formed. An unusual reaction to something that should’ve made her feel happy. She blinked it away.