Chapter 17 #2
Falling against the structure, I slid to the ground, chest heaving.
My visor blinked, warning of my pulse. I ripped the visor off and wiped my brow.
The sweating had less to do with the heat and more to do with the nerves.
I clenched my hands so tight they ached, pounded my temples with my fist and sat there, head on the legs pulled up to my chest.
She shouldn’t be here, but she was.
She shouldn’t be alive, but she was.
We didn’t have to talk. Even if Roys scheduled us, my job was to stand around and shoot shit, if need be. She could do her work, the work I couldn’t understand how she got, and I could do mine. Three months wasn’t that long. She’d spend most of her time in the lab, so I didn’t even have to see her.
It was fine. We would be fine.
I stood, taking a breath that did nothing to settle the itch. I went to circle the habitat when Maddy came around the corner, her eyes like wildfire.
“Running again?” she asked.
Maddy wasn’t a ghost anymore, not a haunting of the mind.
Real and tangible and there, glaring at me, nothing but a ball of hate.
She curled her hand in her right pants leg and tugged.
There, above her knee, she pressed her thumb against the skin.
Artificial skin of the prosthetic buzzed and popped open to reveal the metal beneath.
“Nice piece, isn’t it?” She clicked the skin again, a button, and the prosthetic snapped into place.
She winced from the nerve endings taking their place. We knew plenty of people at the Colony with prosthetics. None as nice as that, but they followed the same general idea connecting the nerves.
“Got the option of a regrowth about a year back, though doctors told me there was a high probability the growth wouldn’t take, seeing as I lost this so long ago.
” She dropped her pant leg and stepped closer.
“I saw no reason to try. My prosthetic works well enough; it isn’t that much different from having my leg, although it doesn’t make me any less pissed at you. ”
I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Why? I didn’t shoot the damn thing off.”
“Yeah, but you figured I wasn’t worth much without it.”
There was the dagger-like tongue I knew so well, the one that cut patrons deep when they got handsy, that made the boss laugh enough that he forgave her for anything. Never thought she would use it on me. Never thought I would see her again, either.
“You left me,” she said simply, efficient in the worst of ways.
My teeth tore into my sore cheek. Blood filled my mouth. “What would you have had me do?”
“Not fucking leave me there.” She closed the gap between us, shorter than me and yet bigger in every way. Her hand caught in the collar of my shirt, forcing me to look into her eyes of rage. “We promised to always have each other’s backs. You broke that promise.”
“You would have done the same.”
She laughed, bitter as could be. After all this time, we found each other, but I never felt further from her.
“Is that how you got by all these years? Kept telling yourself lie after lie, ignoring reality so you can sleep better at night.”
“Sex, mostly,” I muttered because I couldn’t think of what else to say. I hated myself too.
Maddy shoved me. “You’re real fucking pathetic.”
I know.
“What do you want me to do? Beg?” I fell on my knees, hands clasped. “Oh Maddy, please, please forgive me. I should have died with you. Won’t you ever forgive me?”
She slapped me. Hard. My cheek rang with pain, worse when she smacked me again, sending me toppling over. I wanted that because I deserved it, deserved far more, honestly. I wanted her to kick me, to punch me, to strangle the life out of me because that’d be easier than any of this.
I wanted to feel anything else.
She stood over me, red palm raised for another blow. But she lowered that hand and used her words, “I wish you were dead.”
She knelt on one knee, her eyes colder than ever as she held my neck like she did when we were kids.
On the nights when we were cold and hungry, had nothing to get us by, she hugged me and sang.
Horribly, but Dad liked to sing. A little nightly routine when he would tuck us in, if he was home, and sing a little song just for us.
I’d never hear that again from either of them.
“I thought you were dead all these years,” she whispered, looking at me as if she, too, saw a ghost. “After those fuckers dragged me off, I thought you would save me, but you never did, so it only made sense that you were dead. You needed to be; otherwise, that meant you left me, and you didn’t bother to think of getting me out.
That made your memory easier. Deep down, I think I knew it wasn’t true but didn’t want to face it because then that meant you were… this. Pathetic.”
She stood, spat on my back, and walked away.
I sat there, face stinging, chewing my cheeks until I imagined all I would ever know was the taste of copper.
I knew I’d dream of what had happened that night. I just didn’t think it’d be the real thing.