As They Slip Away

8.

“We’ll protect you,” Victria says. Kayleigh, sitting on my bed, nods her head. “If Doc won’t protect you, we will.”

“What can you do?” I ask with a feeble laugh.

Kayleigh and Victria exchange glances. “The boys will help,” Kayleigh says. “Harley and Bartie.”

“They don’t know me that well.”

“They’ll still help.”

I can see it now: a lifetime where I’m always watched by at least one of them. Before, I had thought of Kayleigh as a sometime friend and Victria as an occasional companion. Harley and Bartie were always in the background of my mind. But I know—I can see it in the earnest looks both girls are giving me—that here is a chance for me to become something more to them all.

Not friend. Ward.

“I can’t ask that of you, of any of you,” I say.

Victria shakes her head. “We can’t let that happen to you again.”

She looks at my neck, but she can’t see the wounds I’ve hidden behind my clothes.

“You can’t protect me all day, every day.”

“You can move into my room,” Kayleigh says.

“Or mine,” Victria adds.

I stare out the window.

“Selene?” Kayleigh asks. Something in her voice draws my attention to her. “You forgot to take your pill,” she says. She holds out the little blue-and-white capsule that holds the drugs that keep me conscious, aware of the world.

I hadn’t forgotten it.

“Silly me,” I mutter, taking the pill. Kayleigh watches me carefully as I put it on my tongue and pretend to swallow.

But I don’t.

After a while, I plead a headache, and the two girls leave. They don’t go far; I can hear them talking, guarding my room. They shout at Luthor when he gets too close; I can hear him denying their accusations, their voices raising until Doc comes out and silences everyone.

I spit the blue-and-white pill out of my mouth and into the toilet, then flush it away.

Kayleigh said the pills made you nothing, and nothing seems like a pretty good thing to be right now.

Someone knocks on my door. I know it can’t be Luthor—he doesn’t knock.

Doc stands on the other side. “I’ve sent your little guards to their rooms,” he says.  Then his harsh expression melts. “I’ve also posted a guard—a real guard—at Luthor’s room. I don’t want you to feel threatened.”

But I do. Guard or no. Because eventually, in a few days or weeks or even a whole month, the guard will go away. And I still won’t have a lock on my door. And Luthor won’t have forgotten.

You can never escape from me. Those were the last words he said to me, just before he left my room that night.

But in the end, it’s remarkably easy to escape.

As I walk past the common room, I can see the way things will one day be. Kayleigh is snuggled into Harley’s arm on the couch by the window—their love will grow and spread and be everything they want. Bartie plays a song for Victria. Victria may or may not fall for the guitar player, but their friendship won’t fade. They are an idyllic vision of what I once wanted in my life.

In the corner, watched closely by Doc, is Luthor. He stares at me, eyes narrowed, as I cross the room. He blames me for the close watch he’s been under these past few weeks, the additional pills. He hasn’t forgotten.

But I almost have.

I take the elevator down to the lobby, then stroll down the path that leads from the Hospital to the Recorder Hall. I think about going into the Hall, maybe seeing the sculpture one last time, but the idea doesn’t create an urge in me to make the effort to continue up the stairs.

Orion stands in the doorway. He starts to talk to me, but then he frowns as I pass by.

The path bleeds into the road that leads deeper into the Feeder Level. I know where I’m going—I’ve already talked about this with Doc, who got permission from Eldest for my reassignment.

Kayleigh was right. Without the pills, you really do feel nothing.

And nothing can be nice.

I open my palm, letting my last blue-and-white pill drop heedlessly to the ground.

I stand at the fence, staring down at the large rabbits used for meat on the ship. This is my new job.

Not songs.

Rabbits.

I glance back once.

Luthor will forget about me. He wanted my music, but empty people don’t sing. I’ll stay here. I will care for the rabbits. I will let myself become a nothing, and then Luthor won’t want me, because there will be nothing to want.

It took several days before I felt the fear fade.

I didn’t know that everything else would fade too.

But it’s nice to be without the fear. Without the sad.

In the end, it didn’t seem like such a big price to pay.

My songs, in exchange for nothing.

Nothing is nice.

Empty is good.

I cross over the fence. The rabbits hop. Up and down. Ears twitch.

I will be this girl, the girl who cares for the rabbits. Luthor took my music when he took everything else from me that night. What does it matter to me if I let the emptiness fill my shell?