SAGE
Wake up, Sage. You have to wake up.
I pulled myself from the fog, forced myself out of it, like bringing myself from a dream. I couldn’t feel anything. My body had detached from my will; my muscles disconnected from my brain’s control. The anesthesia, or some stronger drug, rendered me useless to command my own movements. Complete silence pervaded the room, save for the periodic beep of the IV stand displaying my vital signs.
Both Dr. Adamson and Dr. Stanstopolis focused on the screen by the foot of my bed.
“These follicles look perfect. The two drops of serum helped.” Dr. Adamson spoke quietly, anticipation in his voice.
Dr. Stanstopolis leaned in toward the screen. “The needle is almost there. Just a little farther.” It took my mind a moment to register their words, and then, with complete terror, I realized my worst fear was seconds away from coming true. They were about to have a part of me.
I couldn’t let that happen. It could not happen.
To my right, the bag of serum hung from the IV stand next to the saline. The button dangled within reach. If I pressed that and held it down, I would release the entire bag of neon yellow liquid into my IV, and Dr. Adamson wouldn’t get anything from me—not once my body morphed into something non-human.
I wondered, vaguely, if this extraction, if that needle inside me, should be causing me pain. I wondered, too, if pain would surge if I moved.
I contemplated my choice.
But I already knew my answer.
I saw what the serum did to Finn. And because the code no longer effectively worked in my body, because I had no heightened capabilities, I knew if the serum flowed into my veins, it would render me completely useless to Vasterias.
I would be … unrecognizable.
A modwrog.
It’s time. Finish what you started when you left the island, what Beckett stopped you from doing at the gala. This won’t end until it’s over. And it’s not over while you’re alive.
I’d never thought of myself as important. Maybe in relation to helping my mom, or supporting Finn, or making sure we took care of the farm, but never in a “big picture” kind of way. But now, I pondered this. Dr. Evans talked about us all being “part of the tapestry.” It didn’t sound so crazy in this moment.
I think I knew my job within the tapestry. I just had to be brave enough to fill my role.
Jack’s sperm meant nothing to Vasterias without my eggs.
Only one of us needed to die.
In the instant after I chose the path, the decision rooted deep within me and took hold. I felt nothing but steeled determination, gathering strength from my bitterness toward the people who’d put me here in this place, in this moment in time. Decisions others had made decades ago were now impacting my life, changing the very trajectory of my world, all without my consent.
I’d simply been born into this.
My decision felt different than in the bathroom at the mansion. In the bathroom, with that knife, I’d had so many doubts, so many fears, so much grief because of Finn and the boys, because of the people I’d leave behind, and the fear of the pain and the unknown beyond this world.
That was all gone now. I would apologize to no one for this decision.
I would choose a different path than the one other people had for me. Dr. Adamson would not do with me what he wanted. I would choose my own destiny.
And this would stop. Right now.
If only I could get my arm to move, if only I could pull myself out of this strap ….
“Carefully …” Dr. Stanstopolis said. “Yes. That’s it. Yes.”
If there was ever a time when I needed super-human strength, it was now.
Do it, Sage. Move your arm.
I fought against the anesthesia.
I’d always been resilient to drugs—they didn’t have an effect on me the same way they did for others, but now, it seemed, I’d lost the ability, like I’d lost my numbers and my heightened hearing.
I’d have to pull deeper. I needed to dig further into myself than I’d ever gone before. I needed an act of God, or spirit, or something. I needed help. Help me, please.
Please. Help. Me.
My mind zeroed in on my arm. My entire energy and focus and being willed my arm to lift. It felt like trying to lift a cement truck. It felt impossible, and yet, somehow, totally possible, all at once.
My finger twitched.
I clenched my jaw. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and across my scalp.
My hand moved.
The rest of my body remained absolutely still.
“That’s the one. That’s a good one.” Dr. Stanstopolis said, her eyes still glued to the monitor screen, tracking with Dr. Adamson.
They didn’t see me slip my hand free of the rope at my waist. They didn’t see my arm slowly lift. They didn’t see me reach for the switch with the single button.
I had the button in my hand. My thumb rested on top of it.
My final act, my final gift to whatever little human beings Vasterias would have created with my eggs, if they’d gotten the chance. My final gift to the world—to stop Vasterias from spreading the science. My final gift to myself—saying no to them and yes to me.
My final message: I decided, not you.
I pressed on the button and didn’t lift up.
The yellow liquid flowed.