28 - Olive
“ H ello, puppet.”
I hear words coming out of my mouth, it’s just… I’m not the one saying them. It’s not Brose, either. It’s a woman. Some strange woman. And she’s acting like I’m not even here. Like I’m not important. Like this isn’t my head and she’s not inside it!
I fight against this sudden occupation, but I have absolutely no control.
I look around, find myself inside a black cube of some sort. I’m standing in water up to my ankles. And then Brose is suddenly here with me. “Calm down, puppet.”
“Calm down?” I ask him. “Where the fuck am I? What is going on?”
“You’re fine, Olive.” He steps towards me, reaching for my face. And then his hand is caressing my cheek in a way that is so familiar, I actually do calm down.
“Where did you go? Are you real? What is happening to me, Brose? Where are you? ”
“I’m right here, puppet.”
I reach up, grab his hand, and fling it away. “Stop calling me that. What are you doing? Who is this woman talking out of my mouth?”
“Woman?”
“Stop it! You know what I’m talking about!”
“You’re the only woman I see, Olive. It’s just you and me.”
“She’s out there!” I point to one of the encroaching walls. “I mean, she’s inside me! She’s in my head!”
“Come on, Olive. Can you hear yourself? You sound insane.” When these last few words come out, he chuckles. Like this is funny. He reaches for me again, but this time, instead of caressing my cheek, he brings his hand up to my throat.
My eyes close involuntarily and a warm sensation washes through me.
“There you are,” he says. “See, puppet? Everything is perfectly fine.”
My body is shaking and I am having trouble breathing—on the verge of panic—because this isn’t real. None of this is real. Brose isn’t real, and the house isn’t real, and I’m not some secret agent for an underground shadow government. I’m not .
But I don’t understand. I can’t put it right. I can’t make it make sense. When I speak, I’m on the verge of hysteria. “I’m not your puppet.”
“Oh, but you are, Olive. You’re mine. Remember? Your mission is me. My mission is you. And what we have here, my dear, is what we call ‘a spectacular success.’ You’ve done it. You’re going to go down in history. They will write books about you, darling. And ‘I think for you, you act for me,’ from this day forward, will be known as the greatest weapon man has ever invented.”
We stare at each other for a moment, Brose and me.
And I see everything that we are. All that we have been over the past two years. I love him. He’s my best friend, he’s my everything.
But as I look him in the eyes, I see something new in there.
I see someone new. “Who are you?”
Brose laughs. It echoes off the cubed walls and sends a spasm through my wet and already shaking body. “I’m you, darling. I’m you.”
And then he squeezes. His fingertips tighten around my throat and it’s so fast, and with such force, I see the blackness coming for me before I can react.
I crumple.
That’s the only word to describe what happens to me. I simply crumple into… nothing? Something broken? Someone else?
I don’t know. All I know is that the next time I open my eyes, I’m not me anymore.
I’m… Shep .
In my head I hear his voice repeating, over and over, She thinks for me, I act for her . She thinks for me, I act for her. She thinks for me, I act for her .
And I have this sudden, sick feeling that the lie that’s been sitting between us is… me .
She thinks for me, I act for her.
He is my puppet.
I am his master.
We only work in pairs, Olive. Deep Recon needs an agent and a handler .
You were her handler ? I asked.
No. She was mine. I was the agent .
Nothing about my life makes sense now. Nothing. Nothing . Not a single fucking thing after Collin left for the Marines because none of what I think happened is real.
It’s not real.
It’s fake.
It’s a lie.
I am the girl Shep lost.
I was his handler.
I was his partner.
I think for him, he acts for me .
Time speeds or something because all of these thoughts have occurred in the moments after Collin opened the door to the jail. And he’s rushing towards me.
Me. Towards me, the real me and not the eyes through which I’m seeing. He goes right past Shep and tackles me to the ground. I feel this . I feel the pain in my hip when he slams me against the hard floor.
But I’m also watching it happen from the eyes of Shep.
Brose is standing next to me, laughing. Laughing! Like some maniacal supervillain. He throws his head back, looking up at the ceiling, and this laugh just comes out and fills up the room. He’s shouting, “We did it! We did it !”
But it’s not Brose .
It’s not him. It’s someone else inside him.
Because he’s a puppet too .
Brose grabs me, and this whole time I’m watching Collin on the floor with me, Olive-me, zip-tying my hands behind my back. And Amon is coming in now, and there are men, lots of men, trying to get control of the situation.
But none of that matters.
The only thing that matters is Brose.
He leans in to my ear and whispers, “Welcome to Chain Reaction , puppet. We think for you, you act for us.”