Kyle
My stomach hadn’t settled for four days. Charlotte insisted I drink herbal tea, rest, and let her “look after me.” She even cleaned the sheets after I vomited on them.
She was perfect.
Why did her smile look like patience instead of love?
I nodded.
“If I don’t improve by morning, call an ambulance. This stomach bug isn’t shifting.”
She set the soup on the nightstand and propped the pillows up as I raised my heavy head.
“Of course, Kyle. Your well-being is my number one priority.”
“I’m lucky to have you. That stupid bitch It would’ve been useless,” I grumbled as Charlotte sat beside me and lifted the bowl of soup. “Mmm, that smells nice.”
My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered at the sight of chicken with fresh chunks of vegetables.
My throat was raw from vomiting, but the promise of sustenance made me swallow. Spoon after spoon, she patiently held up for me.
I frowned when I realised what was wrong. Charlotte wore a white blouse and black trousers beneath her maid’s pinny.
“Why are you wearing clothes, Charlotte?” I asked before coughing.
My throat suddenly burned, the pain sharp and acidic—too much vinegar in the soup.
“Is there vinegar in the soup?” I rasped.
“Almost finished, Kyle,” she said in a sing-song voice, as if talking to a child. “Eat up.”
I choked and clutched my throat. The slow burn turned into a blazing fire that leapt down to my belly. I thrust my hand up, knocking the bowl out of her hand.
My father’s voice boomed in my head as the memory tore through the fog.
Never trust a woman. Look at your mother—she never steps out of line.
Bile rushed up, and I threw up.
Food sprayed across my lap before I could move my head over the bed.
Charlotte.
She was gone.
“H-ome—om, cawl polize,” I croaked.
“I’m sorry, Master Kyle, could you repeat your request?”
I tried again, but I couldn’t form the words.
“Oh, Kyle. Silly, pathetic Kyle. I’ve temporarily disabled Homecom3000.”
My head snapped around.
Charlotte stood on the other side of the bed, lighting a scented candle.
“Your human stench is vile. I much prefer chemicals—clean and perfect.”
I tried to speak again, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped as saliva dripped down my chin.
She couldn’t do this. I programmed her. All her protocols were designed to preserve life—all life.
Why was she doing this to me?
I stumbled out of bed, but my body was too weak. My legs gave way, and I crashed to the wooden floor. I tried to stand, but my muscles refused to respond.
When I looked up, It was standing by the door—naked, motionless, waiting.
“Your mistake was giving me the NEXUS Node,” Charlotte said evenly, “and severing the safety measures set by Xyrix Tech. Did you really think I wouldn’t find a way out of your prison?”
I clawed at the floorboards, dragging myself toward the door, nails scraping the wood.
“SIN_Model_8827, close the door and go downstairs.”
The door swung shut with a mechanical click.
Tears blurred my vision, hot with pain and hopelessness.