“You three need to get your crap together,” Elijah snapped at me. “Your little love tiff is going to get someone killed.”
SIX
“Welcome back.”
I blinked, clearing the black, shifting lines from my vision.
The room hadn’t even come into focus before Dr. Beeson wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. It ticked as it filled, squeezing my arm.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
My heart beat erratically. My breathing came in shallow gulps. There must have been something physical inside of me, rising up, attempting to choke me, trying to drown me from the inside out.
All the guilt, shock, shame, everything I’d felt earlier, came crushing in on me tenfold.
“I…” I stuttered, overcome at the rushing feeling going on within me.
“Take a deep breath,” Dr. Beeson said, his brows furrowing together. He pressed the stethoscope to my chest and listened to my heart crash against my rib cage. “Try to relax.”
I made a small O with my lips and focused on my breaths.
This was my fourth emotional adjustment. This one was supposed to take my emotional blockers down to less than fifty percent.
“You seem overwhelmed,” Dr. Beeson said, concern obvious in his voice. He lowered the stethoscope. “Your heart is racing and your blood pressure is up. Perhaps this was too big of a jump.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I need this.”
“Is there a specific reason why?” he asked.
I opened my eyes and pulled myself into a sitting position. It felt like all of my insides had swelled and everything was trying to push its way up my throat to suffocate me.
“I’m going to hurt West if he keeps relapsing like this and I stay so emotionally unsympathetic.” My vision blurred as I fixed my eyes on the floor. “Things are getting bad. I need to figure out how to deal with all this.”
“I don’t know that it has anything to do with your emotional blockers,” Dr. Beeson said, glancing up at me from my chart. “This would be emotionally trying on anyone.”
“Still,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. It made me feel slightly better, like maybe I wouldn’t crack open and fall to pieces right there on the table. “I know I should try and talk to him again, to explain why I didn’t choose him, but I know I’ll screw it up and make things worse. Besides, he’ll forget it all again soon.”
“If this adjustment seems like too much, I want you to tell me right away,” Dr. Beeson said, ignoring my last comment. What was he supposed to do? Give me relationship advice? “We have to be careful with this. We don’t want to fracture you mentally. We could cause some serious damage.”
“Serious damage,” I said, shaking my head, giving a humorless chuckle. “Only I could get seriously damaged from becoming like everyone else.”
“But you’re not like everyone else,” Dr. Beeson said, his voice lowering. “You are unique, Eve. You are special.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. Accepting who, or rather what, I was had become a daily battle.
Suddenly a smile cocked in the corner of his mouth. “I still can’t believe how much you look like your mother.”
“How well did you know her?” I asked, glad for the distraction.
Dr. Beeson sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I only ever actually met her once. I was still in graduate school and was given the opportunity to tour the NovaTor facility. We ended up talking afterward. We met for dinner and ended up visiting for probably three hours.”
“What was she like?” I asked.
A sad look flashed across his face, knowing he had enjoyed an opportunity I had been robbed of.
“She was whip-smart,” he said, threading his fingers together in his lap. “Her attention to detail was impeccable. Her dedication to the development of TorBane was astounding. She was convinced it would save the world. She made me believe it would.”
I had to swallow hard at that. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. My mother had helped develop TorBane, the technology that would destroy the world in a matter of months once it was made available to the public. She had helped develop the technology that made me less than human.
“How long was that before I was born?” I asked.
Dr. Beeson paused for a moment before he responded, as if calculating the time.
“I would suspect she was pregnant with you at that time,” he said quietly. “She had said something about how she and her boyfriend had recently broken up.”
An ache in my chest swelled.
My father. Who was he? What did he look like? Was he still out there somewhere? Was there any chance he was alive?
The worst part was that I knew I would never find the answers to my question.
I would never even know his name.
“That’s enough for today,” Dr. Beeson said. He placed his hand on my back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought your mother up. Not when you’re like this.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure it was.
“I’ll call Avian to take you home, away from the hospital,” he said, reaching for his radio. “I think it would be wise for you to have a few days to take it easy and adjust. Honestly, it sounds like you both could use some time away.”
“You’ll keep an eye on West for me?” I asked. Just saying West’s name brought up a hurricane inside of me. “He’s not in a good place right now.”
“Of course.”
Avian was not happy when he picked me up from Dr. Beeson’s office. The three of us had argued for twenty minutes. Avian was insisting I shouldn’t have to deal with being overwhelmed. I insisted that I was going to do something stupid if I didn’t continue with my adjustments.
They finally got tired of arguing with me. Avian drove us to the beach.
But while the night progressed, I knew that maybe I was wrong. As we ate, I could feel this sense of regret, dread, and guilt building up inside of me.
The weight of the world seemed to be settling on my shoulders. The wreck I’d caused pressed in on my throat. Avian’s reaction earlier had been because of my indecision.
Why couldn’t I handle this? Why couldn’t I be a normal person? Why was I so weak?
Avian was quiet and watched me, never saying a word.
When we were done with our dinner, I exited the tent and walked toward the water.
I stood with my toes in the sand, the salty waves lapping at them. I watched as the early December clouds gathered, growing heavy and dark. Electricity fizzed through the air, giving a sense of urgency to the world around me. A storm was gathering.
The air, the energy around and in me, the sense of needing to do something more, reminded me of the night the Bane had burned our gardens in the mountains to ash.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I rubbed my hands over my skin. Winter was upon us, and while it didn’t have the bite and chill, or snow of old Eden, it was getting cooler. I’d soon be grateful for the warmth of the hospital, even though it would mean that I would be trapped within its walls for the next few months.
And I’d never be able to escape West there.
With the cities endless concrete walls, limitless broken roads, too many abandoned cars; I felt like a trapped animal.
For a moment I considered heading north. Far, far north. I’d seen maps before, knew that if I could travel far enough I’d find trees and forests again. Nature felt like home, in a way it was where I was born.
Somehow I didn’t think this concrete jungle would ever feel like home.
Maybe we’d survive, if Avian and I just took off. We could find somewhere remote enough to outlast the Bane. We could take supplies with us, hunt for food. Maybe I could be happy again, feel free.