It was never effortless to love Aaron Warner. He was a difficult teenage boy who seemed to forget a lot of the time that that was what he was-a teenage boy. He'd always felt that loving or even caring for him would be impossible for all the world to...
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IT'S ANOTHER LAB.
Once Ella manages to melt the doors away, the breath is knocked from my lungs at the sight of dozens of rectangular tables, on which sit little microscopes or test tubes or lab coats. There are seats for at least fifty people in here and the thought of so many people working against us—towards our demise—makes my stomach churn.
"Is that. . ." Ella trails off. I glance at her only to see that the color has drained from her pretty face and she's gazing off ahead of us, at something I've yet to see.
A frown creases my forehead when I turn my eyesight to the situation at hand: a huge cylinder glass cage stands at the far end of the laboratory, filled to the brim with water. I can make out the shape of something human-like in it. . .something human but not quite alive.
Ella's the first to walk towards it.
"Hey, wait," I try to stop her in case this is some freakish trap made by Evie or something—who must've realized by now that I've escapes—but Ella only whirls around to take my hand and drag me with her. At first, I protest, "Wait—Ella, we don't know what that is—"
She shakes her head weakly and the words seem impossible to slip from my tongue as my gaze rakes over the glass cylinder. Overwhelming feeling crashes into me and, just like these past few weeks, I start collecting memories one by one.
Emmaline hugging me when my hamster died.
Ella, Emmaline and I all opening our Christmas presents whilst our parents filmed us.
Emmaline and I always teasing Ella.
Emmaline always teasing me about Aaron.
Emmaline. Emmaline. Emmaline.
It's all here now. All in my head.
I hear a sob escape Ella's lips as if she's just been gifted with the same revelations. She gasps and squeezes my hand tighter while Emmaline inches closer to the front of the glass, her hand feebly nearing it.
She doesn't look human. Her mouth has been permanently sealed around a regulator, skin spiderwebbing over silicone. Her hair is a couple feet long, dark and wild and floating around her head like wispy tentacles. Her nose has melted backward into her skull and her eyes are permanently closed, long dark lashes the only indication they ever used to open. Her hands and feet are webbed. She has no fingernails. Her arms and legs are mostly bone and sagging, wrinkled skin.
Dying, she says.
I feel my fingers tremble and they fall from Ella's, flying to my mouth.
She endured relentless tests within the confines of this laboratory, subjected to the whims of her own parents. Her anger sears through me, a stark reminder of the luxury I had in forgetting. Unlike me, Emmaline never had that respite. Despite multiple attempts by Max, Evie, and even Anderson to erase her memories, her formidable mind fought back each time. Her resilience rendered their efforts futile, leaving her to witness the betrayal of her own parents, turning her world inside out. Emmaline communicates everything without uttering a word; stripped of four of her five senses, she remains a silent witness to her own tragedy.
