SAGE
Jack’s aim on me did not falter.
I’d asked for this.
Just yesterday, I told Jack to kill me if I ever went mod.
What had I been thinking? Because right now, I’m staring at Jack’s eyes—so full of shock and pain and determination—and I’m not ready to go yet. I need to say things to him. I have so much to say. Yes, I know I’ll start deteriorating within the next few weeks. I’ll begin to wither away in pain, and maybe at that point, I’ll be begging Jack to do it. But right here, right now? Not without wrapping things up. Not without a resolution. Not without the choice being mine, my own decision, within my own control.
It’s one thing to talk about death. Or to press a button on my own free will. It’s another thing to be staring a bullet straight in the face, with my life in the hands of someone else.
And this modwrog thing was different than I thought it’d be. I was me. I remembered everything. I was who I was before—aside from the body.
Jack just needed to know that. He just needed to hear that, and everything would be okay.
I opened my mouth to tell him.
Jack, it’s me. It’s going to be okay. Put the gun down. I’m not crazy. I won’t hurt you. I recognize you. It’s just my body, it’s all wrong. I … mutated.
I wanted to say all of that. But my lips and tongue didn’t produce words. Instead, my voice let out some blubbering, groaning, wailing noise.
My action solidified something in Jack’s face, strengthening his resolve. He leveled his chin and squared the gun.
No, wait! You don’t understand! I’m trying to talk to you, don’t you see? I’m not lost in here! I’m trying to talk to you!
The terrifying howling noise continued to burst from my mouth with every word I attempted to say. I swung my arm in exasperation, knocking over the ceramic soap pump next to the sink. It toppled to the floor, breaking into pieces. Anger shot through me at my inability to speak, at Jack’s ignorance, his unwillingness to lower the gun.
Can’t you see it’s me!
A door slammed, and footsteps ran across the hotel room.
Jack spoke without turning, without lowering his gun. “Don’t come in here, Beck. You don’t want to see.”
If I’d been angry before, Jack’s comment sent me over the edge into an inconceivable pit of rage.
You don’t want him to see? See what? My ugly face? The horror of my skin? Yeah, Beckett, don’t look at the deformed, hideous human in the bathroom. Don’t bother coming in; I’m about to shoot her anyway.
I growled at Jack.
Go on, then! You’re gonna shoot me? Do it! Do it, you idiot, get it over with!
Somehow, the silver bathroom towels ended up balled in my hands, and the towel rack had ripped from the wall.
A voice screamed, “Stop! Don’t shoot her!”
I spun from the hole in the wall where the towel rack had been and saw Beckett diving toward me.
Jack would shoot him, instead of me, by accident, I knew it.
I heard the excruciating noise. The sound of gunfire.
For one awful second, I believed a bullet hit Beckett. I waited for the echo of the gunshot to stop, waited to see Beckett drop to the floor in a heap. But Beckett didn’t crumple, and the ringing didn’t stop … and then, I realized the sound of gunfire was only a horrible noise emanating from my throat.
Jack hadn’t shot, and Beckett had placed himself between me and the gun. If Beckett felt threatened by me, it must not have mattered because his back faced me.
“What are you doing?!” Beckett yelled at Jack. “Put the gun down!”
Exactly what I’ve been trying to say! I growled.
“I do what has to be done,” Jack said evenly. “Get out of the way, Beckett.”
“Jack, put the gun down. It’s Sage, not some monster.”
“All modwrogs are monsters.”
“Just because you’ve met a few doesn’t mean she’s like them. You don’t even know! Maybe she can understand us.”
Yes! I can understand you!
“And that’s why she just tore the wall apart in a fit of anger?”
“We don’t know!” Beckett shouted. “She hasn’t attacked us yet!”
Jack clenched his jaw.
“Move out of the way, Beckett.”
“Jack!” Beckett was desperate. “Jack, look at the dog. Look at Ollie. Why isn’t he barking at her? He knows something we don’t.”
It was true, Ollie sat just outside the bathroom, near Jack’s feet, watching me, whining.
Ollie! My heart jumped, and a sharp wail escaped my mouth.
“Listen to her, Beckett. You see her rage. She’s in an unreachable place.”
“Look at her eyes, Jack. She’s listening to you talk.”
Yeah! I’m listening to you talk, you idiot! I responded to my frustration without thinking, and Beckett ducked while my fist hit the wall and broke through the sheetrock.
“She’s uncontrollable.”
“Maybe. But I’m not letting you kill her.”
Jack didn’t move, didn’t talk.
Beckett dropped his arms, surrendering to the complicated mess we were all in.
“I can’t let her go like this, Jack. Not if there’s any chance she’s still in there. Not when there’s still hope. I’m not letting her go.”
“I promised her,” Jack said weakly, lowering his gun, pressing his thumb and index finger to his temples.
Oh, so now you’re listening to my requests? Now? This request? After all the other times I tried to get you to open up? After all the times I asked things of you, and you did them your way? And now, NOW, you want to follow through on something I wanted?
I stopped my tirade, my chest heaving with the expended energy of attempting to relay my words. My entire body ached from the exertion. The vanity light over the sink buzzed and flickered out, now hanging by a single electrical cord pulled out from the wall.
Beckett looked at me, leery. “Sage, if you can hear me at all in there, you’re not helping. You’re going to have to calm down.”
It was then I saw Beckett’s eyes for the first time, the pain in them as he studied me. The misery ran so deep in his gaze that guilt immediately flooded my entire mutated body.
Beck had just stepped in front of a gun to save my life. I felt horrible for ever doubting he cared, for ever questioning his intentions, for second-guessing his loyalty toward me.
Seeing the tormented look on his face now, I couldn’t help but wonder if the three years of time I’d spent with Beckett on the farm included some of the most real encounters I’d ever had with someone. Based on the expression on Beckett’s face, I didn’t doubt that they were for him.
He looked exhausted. His right calf was bloody, wrapped with a strip of cloth from that ghastly golden dress.
“Stay with her,” Beckett ordered Jack. “Keep her contained in the bathroom. I’m going to the warehouse to get a car. We need to get on the road before Dad shows up again. I’ll call Dr. Cunningham, see if there’s anything he can do to help ….”
But that’s just it! I cried. My dad isn’t on our side! He’s working with Sven and your father! It’s not safe to go there! We have to find out who to trust first, before we head anywhere! And your dad might have my eggs! We have to go after Dr. Adamson! Why can’t you guys just hear what I am saying!
I choked a little when I finished my speech, my throat burning.
Both brothers stared at me after my outburst, leery of my unpredictability.
I dropped my shoulders in defeat.
Beckett strode toward the bathroom doorway and stopped to look Jack right in the eyes before he passed through.
“Don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll never forgive you.”
Jack shifted his shoulder to the side so Beckett could pass by.
“Keep your eye out for Dad,” Jack said. “You never know, he might show up at the warehouse.”
Beck didn’t glance back as he left the bathroom.
He wasn’t usually the one volunteering to leave me, and I wondered if seeing me like this was too much for him.
Beckett teetered on the edge of a cliff, his entire world shaken, and I don’t think he could take much more before he fell right off the ledge.