Chapter 14 Asher #2
"Pain is a lie they told you to make you controllable.
" Jinx takes a step forward, and Twelve's grip on the knife tightens.
He stops, hands raised, showing he's not a threat.
"My name is Jinx. When I was your age, I was called H3.
Just a number, like you. I lived in a place like this.
I was trained like you were trained. I believed everything they told me, because believing was easier than fighting. "
"What changed?" she wavers on the last word.
"I met people who showed me another way.
I was reconnected with my brothers. I met others who proved that the world wasn't just pain and purpose.
That there was more than the Silent, more than the work, more than compliance.
" Jinx's voice cracks. "Let me show you.
Please. You don't have to do this. You don't have to be what they made you. "
The knife wavers. Twelve's empty expression fractures, something human bleeding through the programming they've installed in her brain.
"Twelve." Helena's voice cuts through like a whip, sharp and commanding. "Complete your objective. Eliminate the threats. Now."
Twelve's hand steadies. The emptiness returns, snapping back into place like a mask.
"No." Jinx drops his rifle. It clatters to the floor. "Twelve, look at me. I'm not armed. I'm not a threat. I'm just someone who understands what you're going through. Someone who's been where you are."
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
"What I should have done from the start.
" He takes another step forward, hands raised, palms out.
Completely vulnerable. Completely at her mercy.
"Twelve, I know you're scared. I know they've told you that fear is weakness, that you have to push it down and obey.
But fear is human. Fear is real. And right now, you're allowed to be afraid. You're allowed to feel."
Twelve stares at him. The knife trembles in her hand.
"I was afraid," Jinx continues. "Every day in the Foundry, I was terrified.
I just learned to hide it, because showing fear meant punishment.
But hiding it doesn't make it go away. It just makes you alone with it.
" He's five feet from her now. Close enough to touch.
Close enough to die if she decides to strike. "You don't have to be alone anymore."
The knife lowers. An inch. Two.
"Don't listen to him!" Helena's voice is desperate now. "He's trying to manipulate you. He's one of the broken ones, the failures. He can't be trusted."
"She's wrong." Jinx is right in front of Twelve now. He reaches out, slow and careful, and puts his hand over hers. Over the knife. "You're not a weapon. You're not a project. You're a person. And you have a choice."
Twelve's lower lip trembles. Her eyes fill with tears that she's been conditioned not to shed.
"I don't know how to choose," she whispers.
"That's okay. I'll help you."
He gently takes the knife from her hand, motioning for the man to step aside. She lets him. And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, she collapses forward into his arms, sobbing.
Jinx holds her. Strokes her hair. Murmurs words I can't hear, words meant only for her.
The man in the lab coat scrambles away, clutching his throat, babbling thanks that no one acknowledges.
And Helena sits at her desk, watching it all with an expression of angry fascination.
"Remarkable," she says. "I've never seen a subject break conditioning through empathic connection before. The neurological implications are—"
"Shut the fuck up." I cross the room and grab her by the collar, haul her out of her chair. "You're done. It's over."
"Is it?" She doesn't struggle. Doesn't resist. Just looks at me with those ice-cold eyes. "The facility is compromised, yes. But the work continues. There are others. Other sites, other programs, other children already in the pipeline. You can't stop what's already in motion."
"Watch me."
"You'll try. You'll fail. The Silent is bigger than any one facility. Bigger than any one woman." She smiles, and it's the smile of someone who knows something you don't. "Kill me if you want. It won't change anything."
"Maybe not." I shove her toward Jinx. "But it'll feel good. Besides we already killed your partners and have plans to remake the Silent, just minus all this fucking corruption."
Jinx looks up from where he's still holding Twelve. His eyes meet mine over the girl's head, and the question is there, plain as day. The choice he's been waiting to make since he walked into this building.
"Take her to the vans," he says to me. "Her and the girl. Get them out safe."
"I don’t think you should—"
"I need to finish this." His voice is calm. Certain. "I need to see it through."
I look at Helena. At the monster wearing human skin.
"Make it hurt," I tell him.
"I intend to."
I take Twelve from his arms. She clings to me, still crying, her small body shaking as the adrenaline disperses through her system.
Years of conditioning, years of being told that tears were weakness, and now it's all coming out at once.
A flood that's been building behind a dam for her entire life.
"It's okay," I murmur against her hair. "You're safe now. I've got you."
She doesn't answer. Just holds on tighter.
I guide her toward the door. The lab coat man has already fled, his footsteps echoing somewhere in the distance. I should kill him, but the directive is the kids.
At the doorway, I look back and realize how fucking lucky we were that no one tripped the alarms or alerted the cops, and that means Jinx has all the time he needs to reclaim his soul from the woman who stole it.
Jinx is standing over Helena, who's on her knees now, the first flicker of real fear crossing her face.
She's spent her whole life dealing in fear, inflicting it on others, using it as a tool.
Now she's experiencing it herself, and the look in her eyes says she finally understands what she's been doing to children for thirty years.
He has rolled up his sleeves. His hands are steady. The scars on his forearms catch the light, reminders of what she did to him, what she made him. He looks down at her with an expression that isn't quite hatred. It's colder. More final.
Justice, maybe. Or vengeance. Right now, the distinction doesn't matter.
"You were right about one thing," he says to her. His voice is calm, conversational, almost pleasant. "You did teach me about pain. You taught me everything I know."
"Please—" Helena starts.
"I'm going to give it back to you now."
I close the door behind me.
The sounds that follow me down the corridor are not ones I'll ever forget. Screams that start sharp and desperate and become something else entirely. Wet sounds. Impact sounds. The sounds of thirty years of horrors being repaid in kind.
I keep walking. Twelve is trembling in my arms, her face buried against my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt.
"Is he going to kill her?" she whispers.
"Yes."
"Good."
One word. So much weight behind it. All the pain she's endured, all the suffering Helena inflicted, compressed into a single syllable of satisfaction.
I don't regret leaving him to it.
Some monsters deserve to die screaming.
And some deserve the chance to become more.