“Subject 121!” a voice calls through a set of speakers set in the walls.
That’s me. I know it’s me. I know I have to follow the person in the shadows, but I can’t make my legs move. I really want to cry and I really want my mom.
The woman next to me stands up. “Come now, Evelyn. That’s you.” She smiles down at me, but even I know it’s fake. She doesn’t want to be here either. That doesn’t help my nerves.
“Mother does not tolerate dawdlers.” She yanks me up. “You are not just any three-year-old, you are an Enforcer. And you are not off to a good start. If you wish to impress Mother, you need to follow orders implicitly.”
I swallow and nod, forcing my legs to push me toward the dark person in the doorway. To the moment that changes everything.
“Evie, are you all right?” Asher asks right next to me, causing me to knock the top of my head into his chin.
He spins away, cursing, while I clutch the top of my head with both hands.
I jump up. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine. You?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew you were hardheaded, Evie, but I didn’t realize how hard.” He grins at me, still rubbing at his jaw.
“Evelyn Winters?” The woman at the door says, and not for the first time if her tone is anything to go by.
“Coming.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “Coming.”
Feeling faint and not a little nauseated, I walk through the door, letting it flap shut behind me. The room is completely white, and directly in the center, taking up most of the space, is this … well … I don’t know exactly what it is, but it reminds me of Snow White’s casket in the storybook I found in Gavin’s house.
The image does nothing to help my fluttering stomach and heart palpitations.
I take a step backward, away from it, bouncing into someone. I twist around to see the doctor—the same one that had spoken with me at Asher’s grandmother’s house—peering down at me.
He explains the procedure, which consists of me lying in the glass coffin—wonderful—with it closed—even better—while they watch from another room. Fantastic.
“Ready?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I only suck in a deep breath through my nose and settle myself into the tube.
The nurse places headphones over my ears, then presses a button on the side of the box. The glass draws over my head and instantly I feel claustrophobic. As if it’s not just glass crawling over my head, but thousands and thousands of liters of water.
Mother is speaking, droning on and on about etiquette and manners and my duty. Stand this way. Push your shoulders back. Head up. Make sure you smile!
I’m standing on a little pedestal while the Dressmaker walks around me, mumbling around a mouthful of pins.
“Evelyn, that pink is a wonderful color on you.”
I smile even though I’m sure the color washes me out. “Thank you, Mother.”
“I knew that it would.” She tugs on her own sapphire blue dress. “I think that it’s a little too short, though, don’t you?”
It’s just barely above my knees, but I nod. “Yes, Mother.”
She nods at the Dressmaker, who starts pulling pins and adjusting the hemline.
Mother goes on about my schedule for the next week. Meetings I’m to attend with her to take notes. Another request day. My appointments with Dr. Friar. Another ball. Violin lessons. Vocal lessons. Suitor tea party. An event at the theater. A dinner.
“Ouch!” I call out when the Dressmaker pokes me with a needle.
Mother glares at me. “Evelyn. Do not interrupt me.”
“Sorry, Mother,” I mutter and the Dressmaker sends me a look of apology.
The glass top opens and the doctor peers down at me. “Everything all right?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Fantastic. Now we need to inject you with some dye. I’d like to see what those nanos are doing. We’re going to stick a needle in your arm, okay?”
My stomach drops and I know this is a bad idea, but if it helps then I’ll do whatever it takes. I nod.
He signals the nurse to come over and I roll my head to watch her. She walks over slowly with something in her hand, but keeps out of my sight. When she’s next to me, she takes my arm and says, “This is going to sting a little. You might want to close your eyes.”
I do as she says, but my stomach churns and my entire chest tingles. This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. I open my mouth to object, but a sharp pain stabs into the crook of my elbow. My eyes fly open, but I’m not staring at the white walls of the medical center.
The walls are a pretty light blue that instinctively I know is supposed to be calming, but it’s not. It’s terrifying.
Medical equipment beeps and buzzes. Air hisses from somewhere nearby. The room is bustling with Medical Technicians. Their droning voices circle around me. “She’s dangerous. Unpredictable. A killer … worse … a monster … a risk … must be eliminated.”
Misery is my cloak and I wrap it around myself like a blanket.
I deserve this.
I am a monster. A murderer. Betrayer.
A Technician leans over and sneers at me. “Traitor,” he whispers into my ear, then pushes some sort of mask over my nose. “This is too good for you.” Straps are yanked across my body, biting into my skin, causing tears to prick at my eyes. But I don’t cry out. I deserve this. I am a traitor.
My pulse beats a tattoo against my throat and my head swims. Black spots form in front of my eyes and no matter how much I blink they multiply and grow, so I let my eyes drift closed.
“Stand clear,” a soft voice says.
Something pierces the skin inside my elbow and a deep aching fills my bones. The aching turns to gnawing, then to pure agony that travels from the marrow of my bones to the tips of my nerve endings. Within seconds every square centimeter of my flesh is being devoured slowly by fire. I scream out, but it doesn’t sound like me. It’s as if something primal has taken control of my body.
I thrash against my restraints, while people rush around me. Another needle is plunged into my other elbow. And yet another in my neck. With each assault the torture grows worse, until I’m nothing more than a writhing mass of torment.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, there’s a soft click in my brain and a mist films over the agony. I rip my arms from the straps, tearing the needles from my arms. Blood squirts across the nearest Technicians.
Shouts yell for someone—anyone—to get me under control before I hurt someone. Two Technicians advance on me and sink into a crouch. When they get near enough, I lunge forward, grabbing each by the arm and tossing them aside like dolls in turn. I’m moving before they even hit the wall to either side of me.
Another Technician jumps on me from behind, his arms tight around my neck. I flip him over my head. He lands hard on his back at my feet and his breath whooshes out all at once. I leave him there gasping as I run for the door.
As I wrench it open, two Enforcers appear on the other side of it. I strike out with my foot, kicking one in the chest. She flies back, hitting the wall on the other side of the hallway, but the other dashes forward and tackles me, shoving me into the ground and knocking the wind out of me.