Puppet (15 page)

Edelin’s eyes sparkle and he laughs, the sound mechanical and cold; the way one might imagine a marionette would laugh if they could.  “I don’t have the key,” he says with a patronizing smile and I’m certain beyond a doubt that he does.  I can almost see it through his pocket.  A grimace begins to slide across my face as I realize what he’s asking me to do.  Ordering me to do.  “You’ll just have to find another way,” he states happily.  His smile makes me shudder and glare.   

My grimace morphs into a glower and I stand still for a few moments before reluctantly turning toward the cell and walking up to the bars.  The man inside eyes me with a puzzled look and his frown deepens as I clasp my hand firmly around the rods and pull.  His face contorts into shock and then fear as the bars groan and he staggers backward.  I pull on the metal, leaning away from it and scrunching up my face as I yank with all my might, feeling the bars crack and twist between my fingers like clay.  I pull them outward, wide enough for someone to slip through and low enough to step over.  And then I turn and walk back to Edelin. 

When I turn around I see the man pressed up against the back wall, trying to hide the fear in his face, his eyes masked with caution and trepidation. 

“Won’t you come out, Carrigan?” Edelin asks with cruel pleasantry, his eyes glimmering with malicious amusement.  “We have a deal to discuss.”

The man takes a hesitant step forward and shakily squeezes through the contorted bars, avoiding touching them, as if afraid he might be broken as well upon contact.  Edelin’s smile widens as he approaches but makes sure to keep his distance from me.  Guilt entwines itself within my stomach as I read the terror in his eyes directed at me.  I stare down at my hands, unscratched, no bruises and suddenly a deeper fear arises within me.  I grip my hands into fists and hold them at my sides as if trying to keep out Edelin’s influence, as if denying what I am and willing it to go away.

But it’s still there.  And dull frustration knots inside of me as I realize that it always will be.

“Okay,” I hear the man say, his voice wavering slightly.  “We can talk.” 

Administrator Edelin laughs his mechanical laugh again and turns to a guard at the doorway.  “Direct him to my office,” he says with a wave of his hand and then he grabs my elbow and steers me out the door. 

I’m surprised by his bluntness and as we walk down the hallway I can’t help but wonder what Edelin wants from the man.  What he had refused to give him.

And what I had done to change his mind.   

“I want to see Jed and James,” I blurt out suddenly, feeling the desire stir within me, aching in my chest. 

Administrator Edelin shakes his head casually.  “No.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean, no?”

“No,” he repeats.  “Too dangerous.  Sorry,” he adds but I know he’s lying.  He doesn’t care.  And he also has the luxury of falsifying it.  However obvious and blunt it may seem.  He still has that right. 

I can’t even lie about how I feel, or apologize when I don’t mean it.  My heart sinks as I realize how much Jed’s gifts have taken away from me.  I’m not even Pen anymore.  At least, not the old one I used to be. 

For the first time, with sickening awareness, I realize how much of a puppet I really am.  

21

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D
ays go by and Administrator Edelin has me perform my ‘tricks’, as he calls them, for members of his staff and for recordings and videos.  Now my tricks will be uploaded alongside all those marionette videos I used to watch.  Only my strings are slightly different.  You just can’t see mine.

I’ve demonstrated bar crushing and rock smashing for other criminals, watching as their faces morph into fear and my heart aches every time with a dull frustration and dread.  I want to run from the room, but my still healing leg and the guns held by guards at the door chain me inside.

I’m standing in another one of the cell rooms, just having finished demonstrating my talent concerning pot crushing while Edelin talks to the criminal in front of him.  I eye him as he carries on his conversation, snapping back at the administrators while their faces twist into anger.  While he does seem slightly arrogant and rude, I wonder what he’s done; why he’s here.  If his manner around the administrators is any indication of his criminal past, he might as well be me.  I’m none too friendly with them either.  But here I am, frightening the criminals half to death, although this one seems undaunted by my display.

Just then I notice the silence and I turn.  Until now, they’d been yelling at each other, although I’d blocked out their screeching and tried to ignore them.  But now they stand, glaring each other down, the criminal with a slightly smug expression plastered across his face. 

Abruptly Administrator Edelin turns to me with sudden ferocity.  “His arm,” he snaps.  “Crush it.”  The words are blunt and callous as if he has no idea the real implications of his demand.   

I blink.  My heart freezes in my chest as his words form meaning in my mind, bringing forth a sense of horror.  My eyebrows crease together and my mouth opens.  “What?” I ask blankly.

“You heard me!” Edelin nearly shrieks with anger.  “Crush his arm.
Crush
it.”

My mouth hangs open in shock and as I catch sight of the criminal I see that his smug face is gone, replaced by a slightly terrified one.  He opens his mouth to utter some excuse, some pardon, but Edelin cuts him off.

“It’ll be an example to the people.  Not to disobey like you.”  His bitter, gray eyes seem to glare holes into the criminal’s head while they both stand there shaking; Edelin from anger and the other man from fear. 

“Penelope!” Edelin roars and I stumble back a step.

Suddenly anger rises from within me as I realize that this man can do nothing, physically, to hurt me.  “Don’t call me that,” I snap quietly, taking a step towards him.  Jed calls me Penelope and the name sounds evil and twisted coming from Edelin’s lips. 

“I told you to break his arm,” Edelin spits, reaching for my wrist, but I yank it away, sending his backwards with a snap.  His eyes widen in surprise as he pulls his arm away, his wrist twisted just enough to hurt. 

His gray eyes harden more than I thought possible and he turns to the guards behind me.  “Take her back,” he snarls and I feel a hand on my arm yanking me towards the door.

I easily pull away from the guard’s grasp, but he points his gun at me and I’m forced to walk complacently down the corridor to my room.  The door clangs behind me and I’m left in stillness, the rapid beating of my heart threatening to overwhelm me.

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T
he next day, two guards come for me and at gunpoint I’m forced out of my room and down the hallway.  I’m shoved by the gun barrels into an overly antisepticised, sterile room, the smell assaulting me and reminding me of the shots Jed gave me; surprisingly comforting because it reminds me of Jed, but terrifying because it also reminds me of what he turned me into.

I look around the room, the white sheeted bed and the table of tools beside it; sharp-looking objects and scary metal instruments whose use I have no desire to find out.

I suddenly wonder why I’m here and my breathing becomes faster.

Then I notice the doctor standing only feet away and my heart races.  A confused frown surfaces on my face as I stare into the brown of eyes someone vaguely familiar.

“I’m sorry, Penelope,” Dr. Duquesne says quietly, his soft brown eyes nearly melting with guilt.  “I have no choice.” 

I open my mouth to ask what he means when I’m suddenly grabbed and pulled towards the table.  I get away easily, easier than I had imagined, and edge toward the other end of the room, adrenaline forcing me to ignore the guns pointed at my face.

“What are you talking about?” I ask Duquesne, suddenly feeling frightened and betrayed.  “What did you do?”

He shakes his head and looks as if he’s about to cry.  “It’s not what I’ve done,” he answers.  “It’s what I’m about to do.”

Too late, do I realize how close he is to me; too close.  Close enough to shove a small needle into my arm, my skin stinging and my arm aching in frantic protest.  I make some strangled noise and pull violently away from him, sending the half-empty syringe clinking to the floor.  I gasp as the upper part of my arm goes numb and take another step backwards, bumping into the counter behind me. 

“What was that?” I ask, but my words begin to sound jumbled and quiet and suddenly Duquesne’s face doesn’t look like Duquesne’s, but Jed’s.  And then Edelin’s.  The guard’s faces blur in front of me, mixing into some weird human-like form and the table a few feet away from me wavers like a boat at sea.

I reach my hands out to grasp the countertop, but realize too late that I’m no longer anywhere near it.  I feel Duquesne grip my arms as my legs buckle from beneath me and then the world goes black before my head hits the floor. 

22

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M
y head throbs as if someone’s gone at it with an axe, pounding like sharp jabs every few seconds; a weird rhythm that doesn’t stop.  My head nearly screams as I open my eyes and bright lights beat down on me, sending dark spots dancing across my vision and bile rising in my throat as my skull seems to hammer against itself.

I wonder where I am and where all this pain came from.  My mind is foggy and my vision is blurry.  I can’t make out shapes, I can’t make out noises, I can barely tell if it’s a bed or a table I’m lying on.  I feel nauseous.   

I bring my hand to my forehead, resting it against my skin and feeling it slightly cool.  I make a small moaning sound but stop when it only makes my head ache harder.   

Suddenly I hear a voice but squeeze my eyes shut as the sound reverberates through my skull like a bullet.  “Penelope?” 

I make a whimpering sound and I can hear footsteps scuffling away.  They return a moment later and my mouth is pried open, something small dropped inside.  A cup of water is brought to my mouth and I’m instructed to swallow.  I do, my throat feeling scratchy and dry. 

“That should help your head,” the voice says and this time I recognize it as Dr. Duquesne. 

I want to yell at him for injecting me with whatever it was that knocked me out, and for whatever he did to my head, but it would probably hurt too much so I stay silent.  I grit my teeth together, holding in the rude comments and trying to keep my head from feeling like exploding.   

“It was successful,” I hear him mutter, almost regretfully, his tone sending a shiver tingling up my spine.  If he’s upset about it, I might as well be frantic.  Thousands of thoughts flit through my mind like deranged butterflies, making absolutely no sense.  I wonder if it’s from panic, or from whatever drugs they gave me. 

“What did you do?” I manage to blurt out, wincing as each word slides by with a pang through my head.  I’m beginning to feel sick.  I’m frightened and my headache is affecting my whole body.   

“An operation,” Duquesne says, obviously avoiding the truth.

I want to snap at him to get to the point, but I choose my words carefully, avoiding as much pain as possible.  My whole body is starting to ache.  “What kind of operation?”  Dread rises within me and my stomach is starting to feel sick from the pounding in my head.  My thoughts seem too loud; painful. 

“Brain...” Dr. Duquesne trails off like he isn’t finished with the sentence but is deciding not to tell me more. 

“Brain?” I yelp, clutching my forehead as it sears and throbs. 

“I’m sorry, Penelope, I had to.  They didn’t give me a choice; my family,” Duquesne talks faster than my mind can register and before he’s finished, I hear a door open and somebody walk in.  I turn my head, opening my eyes from their squint to see that it’s Administrator Edelin. 

He gives me a long, hard look before turning to Duquesne.  “Did it work?” he barks.  Duquesne nods quickly, his eyebrows creased together.  I see a large smile slide across Edelin’s face like a snake, distorting his already plastic and frigid features.  “Good,” he murmurs.

My eyes dart back and forth between Duquesne and Edelin while my head thrums with possible ideas.  Horrible ideas.  I reach up to touch the back of my head where the skin is still tender and stings. 

“What did you do?” I ask again, my voice harder and angrier this time.  I glare at Administrator Edelin and at Duquesne as well, even though he had tried to excuse himself from blame.  But Edelin only laughs; a short, snorting sound.

“Penelope,” Edelin says slowly, reaching for something Duquesne has clasped tightly in his hands; a small rectangular box.  He snatches it from Duquesne’s fingers and begins poking at the buttons.  “I’d like you to walk over to the other side of the room and touch the wall.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea this early.  She’s still recovering,” Duquesne murmurs, but Edelin waves him silent. 

I pause, staring at him in perplexity, looking over to the blank wall and back.  Duquesne’s expression has fallen into pity and Edelin looks excited and hungry; his eyes glimmering weirdly.  “There’s nothing over there,” I state simply.  “Why...?” 

Suddenly my legs twitch, sending a gasp from between my lips.  Not just an itch or a shudder; movement.  Muscles ripple beneath my skin without being asked and just then my legs begin to move and all of a sudden I’m off the table and walking across the room.  Panic floods me as I try to override whatever it is inside my body that’s taking control, taking me away; taking my body away.  My head pounds with every step but I’m too distracted and frantic to care.  I can feel my leg muscles moving normally, my stride is still my stride; I can feel my arm reach out to touch the cool, white wall, the cold seeping into my skin; naturally, yet disturbing beyond comprehension. 

What I don’t feel is the thought.  Thinking about moving, the action of moving, the decision of moving.  Just.  Moving.

My hand hits the wall harder than it normally would as my coordination is lost because of my distraction; I’m not in control.  My hand presses against the wall while my heart rattles in my chest and my breathing comes out in wavered gasps.  Slowly, I feel the control slipping back into my grasp and suddenly my hand is my own, not only can I feel the sensation, but the power as well.