Puppet (19 page)

I feel my heart plummet but at the same time I wonder how I didn’t expect this, how I didn’t see this coming; how obvious it was.  Jed is staring down at his hands clasped together and I’m beginning to feel a frantic anxiety creep over me.  This
thing
is mine to hold forever.  It will never leave.  It will always control me.

“I’m sorry,” Jed says.  “I really am.”  He opens his mouth as if to say more, but then closes it.  He eyes me for a moment, that same sad look obscuring his face like a mask.   

For some reason, I can’t find the power inside of myself to be angry with Jed.  For some reason, I’m just not.  Maybe I care about him more than my ability to lie.  Maybe I do think of him as a father.  Or maybe what the administrators took from me is just so much more horrendous than what Jed did.

And maybe, deep down, I feel like I deserve this.

We stand in silence for a few moments before Jed gives me a grim look and trudges back into his study.  I stand alone for a few seconds, watching the study doors close behind him and then I turn and walk up the stairs to James’s room. 

I push James’s door open slightly and when he sees me, he hops up from his chair and immediately pulls me into a hug.  I can feel his face against my hair and his hands on my back.  I close my eyes and lean into him, wishing I could forget everything else and just
be
.  Not thinking.  Not worrying. 

“When did they let you out?” his voice sounds in my ear.

“I just got here,” I answer with a smile, pulling away to look at him. 

“You seem...happier than normal,” he says slowly, smiling as he pulls a strand of hair away from my eyes.  But I can’t help but notice how sad his smile is.

I think back to Jed’s words about Dr. Arms and my frustration begins to fade, replaced by burning hope.  Maybe I am happier than normal.     

I nod slowly, although beginning to feel slightly wary of James’s expression.  “I can get rid of whatever Duquesne planted in my head,” I tell him slowly.  “There’s someone who can do it.  Undo the operation.”  Hope fills my voice but I feel James’s hand stiffen around my waist and I stare up at him quizzically.  “What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.

I see doubt flicker across his eyes before he shakes his head and replaces it with a grin.  A grin I know is fake.  I take a step away from him, trying to hide my unease as well and run my fingers through my hair.  “I was going to try to find him today,” I tell James.  “It’s my only chance.” 

James pauses, his expression unreadable.  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea...” he says slowly. 

I frown.  “What do you mean?” I nearly snap.  “James, I can’t just go on letting them control me.  This is the
only
chance I have.”  I stare at his face.  What’s wrong with him?  He seems upset, worried. 

I can see James shift uncomfortably and suddenly the room is tense.  I wonder what happened to his smile, the way he hugged me, the way he kissed me.  But suddenly all of that is gone, replaced by
this
, whatever it is.  “I’m going,” I say firmly and turn to leave the room.  I hear James call my name, but I ignore him as I hurry down the stairs to the back door.

Frustration drips through me as I think about James’s reaction and the little time I have left before I’m dragged back to the criminal facility. 

I know there are administrators posted on the roads and just outside the doors, so I head for the back way; there’s a window on the far side of the house that juts out into a long greenhouse-type building that Jed has had abandoned for years; somewhere I’m hoping, praying, the administrators overlooked.  I’m less of a threat than I was only a week ago; now they can just press a button to send me running back.  More control means fewer guards. 

My heart hammers with fear and worry and hope as I fiddle with the latch, sliding the window open and lowering myself to the cement flooring. Grass and flowers spring up through the cracks, fighting to live through the crumbling pavement that’s choking away their existence.  I can feel certain parts of the floor crumble underneath my feet as I walk down the long greenhouse-like structure, eerie windows covered in vines on either side of me.  I hear the window sliding again and when I turn around, James is behind me.  A part of me assumes he’s here to accompany me, just like he did last time, but another part, a larger part, is worried. 

“Pen,” James says quietly and I can’t help but detect something sad and dark in his voice.  “Don’t go.”

There’s a pause while we watch each other and my mind is beginning to turn and scream at me to run, although I can’t be sure why.  I keep telling myself that it’s James, my friend, someone I care about, love even.  But there’s something in his eyes, his body language, his tone.  “James?” I say softly.  “What’s wrong?”  Dread begins to form in the pit of my stomach. 

“I can’t let you go,” he says quietly and that’s when I see his eyes shiny with tears.  Alarm trickles through me and I almost want to reach out and touch him, but something holds me back.  Fear. 

I take a step away from him, toward the opening at the end of the greenhouse, away from the house, away from the administrators. 

“Pen,” James says and his voice hardens.  “Stop.”  And that’s when I notice the gun at his belt, the one he pulls from underneath his shirt and points at me.  My heart stops at the sight of his hand above the trigger, the barrel pointed at my heart and James’s face masked with more emotions than I can identify. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice wavering.  My expression hardens as I stare at James and the gun, millions of thoughts shooting through my mind like bullets.  My face morphs into a glare.  “What are you going to do?” I snap.  “Shoot me?”  I can’t help but notice how desperate my voice sounds; how small. 

“Yes,” James says calmly and suddenly I’m afraid.  Fear courses through my veins, dull yet awake.  Real fear.  I’ve never been scared of James.  Ever.  James is always the one I run to when things get hard, when I need someone to look out for me.  And here he is, ready to plant a bullet in my heart.  As if he hasn’t twisted it enough. 

Just then, I see the single tear sliding down James’s face and my heart hammers.  I see the guilt and sorrow in his eyes as if it’s painted across his face.  I want to scream at him.  Ask him what he’s doing, why he’s doing it.  But I’m afraid.  “Please don’t make me do it, Pen,” he murmurs. 

“Why?” I ask hollowly.  “Why are you doing this?” 

He bites his lip.  “You were never meant to get that plate implanted,” he says slowly.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

I stare at him while the words sink in, their meaning, their implication rocking my mind and making it hurt.  “What are you talking about?”  My voice comes out angrier and more frightened than I had intended. 

James closes his eyes momentarily as if the gun in his hands is hurting him, burning him.  He sighs, as if in defeat.  “You were meant to help Devere overthrow Administrator Edelin.  To stop her assassination attempts by him and some of the administrators,” he says softly, as if trying to pull back each word right after it’s spoken.

“What do you mean,
meant
?” I spit, anger bursting through me.  “I was never
meant
for anything.  I’m a worthless girl Jed decided to experiment on.”  My words are harsh and desperate. 

James shakes his head slowly.  “No.  You were meant to help Head Devere.  Jed was recruited by a group trying to protect Head Devere from Edelin. Your anatomy held codes about assassination attempts Jed and others had been informed on.  Duquesne was to deliver the messages to Devere once he examined you,” he states.  “Once there, you were supposed to be her...protection, in a way.”   

My heart suddenly feels like its breaking as everything starts to crash down on me, making undeniably horrible sense.  I want to shake my head and fling the thoughts from my mind, but I know they’ll still be there.  “Then I was supposed to get caught,” I state.

Hurt and frustration flash across James’s face and he winces at my words. 

“It was all
supposed
to happen.  Nothing was a mistake.”  My words drip with hurt and rage.  We stand in silence while watching each other and I wonder how only minutes before, we had been so close.  Suddenly, all my anger morphs into hurt and my chest aches like I’ve been punched.  I feel like crying, but I bite back tears.  “You used me.”  James begins to shake his head, but I talk over him.  “You used me just like everybody else used me.”  I’m surprised at how little my voice sounds; how it betrays my emotions as if writing them across the wall in huge, red letters. 

James takes a step forward and I flinch, the gun still in his hands, his fingers still hovering above the trigger.  He stops, his eyes pleading, his expression begging.  “Pen, I never wanted this...I didn’t think that I’d...”

“What?” I snap.  “Love me?”  The words sound cruel and evil on my tongue, as if we’re talking about torture and not love.  As if love as been twisted into some kind of vindictive game.  A part of me wants to take his gun and throw my arms around him, wishing him back, because I don’t like this new James; I loved the old one.  But as I stare into his uncertain blue eyes, rimmed with emotions I can’t read, I’m afraid of him.  Of what I felt for him.  Of what I feel for him.  Of what I’ll feel when he’s no longer mine. 

“It wasn’t a lie,” he says firmly.  “None of it was.  None of
that
.  I didn’t expect that to happen...I do love you, Pen.”

I laugh a cold, mirthless laugh.  But not because it’s funny.  Because it’s tragic and twisted and heartbreaking.  “Then why are you here?” I snap at him.  “Why are you pointing a gun at my chest and why can’t I get this plate taken out of my head if it was never part of the plan in the first place?”  My voice rises with every word. 

Pain shoots across James’s face like an arrow and I want to step away because I’m afraid of what he might do.  “Because if you get it removed, they’ll know about us.  That we helped you...and...” James trails off.

“What?” I spit.

“The others involved with this...they want you killed.  Me or Jed to...kill you.”  Another tear drips down his cheek with his words and I can almost see his heart breaking in front of me, the pieces crumbling to the floor.   

The air seems to be knocked from my lungs and all noise is muffled as his words sink into my brain and I stare at the gun in James’s hands. 

“They think you’re too valuable to Administrator Edelin,” he stammers in explanation, as if that makes it any different; any better.  Suddenly Head Devere’s comment seems to make sense.  That their plan wasn’t working.  That I was no longer her protection, but her biggest threat.

Hurt bubbles up from within me as I glare at James, taking a step toward him.  “Then shoot me,” I spit.  James winces at my words but stands his ground, watching me with sad, blue eyes.  I take another step, angrily shoving my hands against his shoulders as he staggers a few steps backward.  “Shoot me!” I nearly scream.  James is staring into my eyes and I’m so close to him that the barrel is almost touching my chest; just above my heart.  “Because I’m tired of being everyone’s puppet,” I say quietly.  “Even yours.”

The gun wavers in James’s hand and I can tell he’s battling with himself.  The windows on either side of us are dark and smudged with dirt and water and vines.  If he shoots me, no one would see, no one would know.  Pain dashes through me as I remember the last time we were this close, the last time he kissed me, the feel of his lips against mine, his heart against mine.  And I wonder if he was lying. 

James swallows and his eyes harden.  “Go,” he says. 

I hesitate, frowning, confused. 

“Go!” he yells at me, his voice louder and harsher than I’ve ever heard him.  I’m afraid he’ll hurt me if I stay and I can tell he’s afraid of the same thing.  So I turn around and run.

The cement crushes underneath my feet and sparks of light seep through the small spaces where the window hasn’t been obscured.  I reach the partially rotted doorway at the end of the hallway and push against the dirt-coated wood, hearing the panel creak and groan as I shove past and out into the woods. 

I hear a gunshot; the shot I know is only for James to prove that he tried.  Tried to kill me.  Even if he really didn’t.  The bullet doesn’t hit me because if was never intended to, but my heart breaks all the same.     

28

––––––––

I
run through the trees, my heart breaking a little more with every step, but I won’t let myself cry; I keep running.  Words and images flash through my mind on replay, like an old, frazzled, black and white movie that’s skipping.  James’s face as he leaned in to kiss me, Jed’s smile when I came home, James’s hands on the gun, his words, his explanation.  My head throbs in time with my heart and my footsteps against the uneven ground, pounding away until there’s nothing left to think about.  My necklace strikes rapidly against my chest as I race through the woods, trying desperately not to think about the last time I was here – with James. 

But suddenly my legs stop and I fall forward with the force, my arms bracing my fall as I smack against the forest floor.  My heart seems to stop as I lie on the ground, breathing heavily and looking around me, slowly beginning to realize what’s happening.  I grit my teeth and bite back a frustrated scream as my legs push me to my feet, my hands groping at the dirt, smearing it across my clothes as I stand. 

Panic and frustration overwhelm me as my legs turn around and start to carry me back toward the road, toward the administrators.  Defeat swells through me as I realize there’s nothing I can do and I blink furiously to fight back aggravated tears.  I don’t want to give up.  I want to keep fighting.  But there’s nothing to fight for.  There’s no reason, no use.   

My legs take me back to the dirt road leading to Jed’s house, where an angry-looking Administrator Edelin stands watching me come out of the trees.  He glares at me, although his look is slightly smug, before pushing a button on the remote and pointing to the backseat door.  I get in and the car takes me back.  Back to my prison, my room, my cell.