Chapter Twenty

Elena

After an hour at the hospital, I was sent on my way with a clean bill of health, aside from my healing arm. The nurses and doctors didn’t seem to care much about my emotional health. I cried the entire time I was there, so most of their questions went unanswered. Dad wasn’t there with me. Apparently, securing his project is more important than his daughter. He had a guy named Brock take me back to Dayton, then to and from the hospital. It’s not like I care—in fact, I’m glad Dad isn’t around. The anger burning inside me is so fierce I’d probably punch him at this point.

By the time I walk inside my house, after the hour-long car ride and the four-hour stay at the hospital, I’m a dried-up zombie. I cried so hard for so long, my eyes are puffy and red to the point of physical pain. Brock, the short, quiet AIR guard, drives away as soon as I shut the front door.

I walk into my living room and stare at the long white couch, breathing in the dusty scent that has always meant home to me. It turns my stomach. Nothing about the familiar surroundings is comforting. The plan is to hide in my room for the next five months until my eighteenth birthday, but before I can get there, I see Jamie.

Looks like my hiding is getting postponed.

Jamie is in front of the stairs, her hair in a chaotic bun on the top of her head. Her face is pale, deep bags shadowing her usually bright eyes. “Elena,” she says softly before spreading her arms and enveloping me in a hug. My sister hasn’t hugged me since I was eight, and sure, it’s kind of weird, but only for a moment. Jamie whispers into my ear, “I don’t understand, but just so you know, I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

I pull my head back and let out a sigh, nodding. “Thank you.”

She releases me from the curiously long hug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re okay.”

On another day, I might laugh at her endearing sentiment, but not today. For once, I’ve been the “bad sister.”

“I’ve been given orders to watch you. Make sure you don’t leave this house for any reason. I agreed, like the obedient daughter I am.” Jamie’s lips quirk mischievously.

I want to smile, but I can’t get my muscles to respond. My insides have been torn out, mashed and rearranged, then put back together in all the wrong places. For the past few hours, I’ve experienced every wretched emotion possible. Now I can hardly feel at all.

Jamie leans against the banister, assessing me from head to toe. She clears her throat. “Um. Do you want to talk about anything?”

Yes, I want to talk about how our dad is more than just a cold, overly controlling parent—he’s a murderer. I want to talk about how I tried to get Aiden far away from Dayton and AIR and the death sentence awaiting him. I want to ask her if she knows the truth and what she might’ve done had she been in my shoes. I want to see Aiden again, to simply hold his hand or hug him tightly. And God, I want to scream at the unfairness of it all and shout obscenities until there’s no more breath left within my lungs.

But I don’t. I can’t. So I finger the fresh bandage around my arm and shake my head.

“Okay, well…let me know if you need anything.”

I tell her I will, but the only thing I need is a way to save Aiden. He might’ve given up, but I haven’t.

…

The next morning, Dad is away taking care of “the mess.” In fact, he hasn’t been home since he found me. I’ve spent my hours worrying yet trying to maintain my calm.

Jamie’s been assigned as my personal guard—I guess he couldn’t afford to pay Brock to keep watch. He did, however, threaten to virtually disown Jamie if she disobeyed him. To my sister, that holds little threat. So her as babysitter is laughable.

“I need to make a run,” I tell her, aiming for casual.

Her brows lift. “Oh? Where are you trying to go? You know Dad’s rules, though I surely won’t be the one to stop you.”

“I need to see a psychiatrist. If Dad asks about me before I get home, tell him that I needed someone to talk to…to clear my head.” It’s a lie wrapped in a truth, sprinkled with dustings of deceit.

Jamie nods her approval and makes a “go on” motion with her hand.

An hour later, I’m inside a one-story black-and-brown brick building, where Dr. Burns has her own practice outside of AIR. It looks an awful lot like the office building Aiden and I broke into. But entering through the unlocked door feels way better than breaking and entering. It smells of citrus, which is mildly better than the sterile smell of the hospital.

“Hello!” a woman at the front desk with a mass of curly hair says, smiling brightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

I shuffle toward the desk and take a deep breath. “No, actually. But I need to speak with Dr. Burns. Is she in today?”

“She is,” the lady says, checking something on her computer. “But she’s with a patient right now, and she’s completely booked for the day. Can I set you up with an appointment?”

“No. Look, I’m sorry to be a pain, but I need to talk to her about something urgent. It won’t take too long. It’s a matter of life and death—and no, I’m not being dramatic. If you could please just tell her I’m here about Project A.I.D.E.N. Trust me, she’ll want to talk to me.” I can only hope my confidence doesn’t waver and that Dr. Burns will agree to see me.

The receptionist tells me to have a seat and she’ll speak to the doctor as soon as she’s free.

After twenty-five minutes of sitting in a waiting room chair, I’m ushered into an office and being offered a seat in a green, comfortable-looking recliner. The woman gesturing toward it gives the kind of smile I imagine a kindergarten teacher is born with. “Hello, Elena.” Her voice oozes sympathy and understanding. “I’m Dr. Burns, but please, call me Melanie.”

I give her a half-assed return smile as I stiffly sit down. Once I do, she takes a seat opposite me in an identical chair.

She pushes her short, blond hair off her neck and glances at her ComPad. “I’ve got about ten minutes before my next session. I’m told you have an urgent matter that involves…Aiden.” Melanie’s dark-blue eyes meet mine. “I know who you are. I watch the news now and again, and it’s hard to miss one of your patients escaping.” She gives a small smile. “And I know who your father is. Am I correct in assuming he doesn’t know you’re here?”

I nod.

“Do you understand what Aiden is?”

I ponder the question for a long time, my gaze lingering on a metal bookshelf and the small decoration pieces aesthetically placed between books. Finally, once I decide on a response, I tell her yes. “He experiences emotions, he smiles and laughs, sometimes he gets angry, but he’s usually sweet. He’s too many things to name. But whatever ‘Aiden is’ is no different than the rest of us. Hell, he’s more human than a lot of people I know.”

After a long pause, Melanie leans forward. “Have you talked to your father about your feelings, your experiences?”

“He won’t even speak to me. I pleaded with him, begged for him to stop and listen—he didn’t then, so why would he stop and listen to anything I say now?” I twist my hands together in my lap, staring at my gray sneakers. “My dad doesn’t really know what happened.”

“Of course.” Her tone is delicately smooth and sickly sweet. “No one can truly know what happened to you.”

“No, I—” I mean to tell her she doesn’t understand, either, but what’s the freaking point?

Even though I protested at the checkpoint, and again inside Zoe’s house, then once more at the hospital, everyone either insisted or implied I was delusional. No matter what I said to them, they chose to believe I was forced.

It’s been over sixteen hours since I’ve seen Aiden, and even if he is still…alive, telling this woman my sob story won’t help anything. It won’t make the constant ache in my gut or the endless well of tears go away.

“Elena,” Melanie says slowly, bringing my attention back to her face. “The more you tell me, the more I can understand. The more I can help you.” She leans forward, crossing her ankles under the chair.

I stare at her attractive and perfectly done-up face, but all I truly see is Aiden’s marble-like eyes. His smile. The way his hair falls against his forehead every time he brushes it away. The knowledge that I will never see him again, that he may never smile again breaks my heart. I’d been certain there was nothing left inside my chest to break, but somehow it continues to splinter and crack. But it’s not my heart breaking anymore. It’s my soul. Melanie’s face blurs behind the tears forming in my eyes.

“Right now, I’d like it if you’d tell me your side of the story. From the beginning. I want to hear the truth. What happened, Elena?”

I inhale, my throat dry and torn to pieces. After only a moment’s hesitation, my mouth opens and the words pour out. They’re slow at first, but they build like a snowball speeding down a hill.

My throbbing heart seems to echo in my head, but I keep going. I tell her everything. I start at the beginning and relay every detail I can remember, even the parts about the headaches, the kissing, and Velveteen, the mystery orange cat that couldn’t have been a real memory.

My heart jackhammers against my rib cage, and my hands shake. Recounting the details of the past few days is like digging a knife into a fresh wound. It hurts more than my arm, more than the time I busted my chin and needed eight stitches, more than when my mother left without saying goodbye.

I think I might be sick.

Melanie’s eyes fill with unshed tears, and seeing that has me on the verge of tears again, too. “That’s…not what I expected.”

I sniffle, looking at my bouncing knee. “Not what I expected, either.” I press my thumb and index finger against the corners of my eyes, holding back the waterworks—I’m amazed I have any tears left inside of me. “So you…worked for AIR? As what, a side job?”

“This is my private practice,” she says, motioning to the room around us. “I’ve been here for nearly ten years. It wasn’t until a couple years ago that Dr. Niels recruited me for AIR, specifically for Project A.I.D.E.N.”

“I’m the only one who can possibly convince my dad to do the right thing. I know Aiden is at AIR, and my dad is, too. I need to get in there—to see my dad before anything more terrible happens.”

Her eyes go anime-wide. The expression on her face surprises and confuses me. I expected her to look at me like I lost my mind, like I was brainwashed into believing something untrue. But her sadness mirrors mine.

“I need your help getting inside AIR,” I say. “Wait.” I grip the arms of the chair, my fingers digging into the soft material. “Do you know if…is Aiden still…alive?” My blood thrums painfully as I wait in anticipation and dread for her answer.

Melanie’s eyes glisten with moisture. Her lips twist and quiver, but she maintains most of her composure. “Yes,” she says, and I want to cry out in relief. She turns to gaze out the window. “I received an email this morning. I’ve been informed that my services are no longer needed at AIR. Project A.I.D.E.N. is being terminated tomorrow morning.”