Violet Path (45 page)
I couldn’t kill either of them. I wasn’t in the position to choose who lived and who died. I wasn’t to play God. I couldn’t murder, but I couldn’t have two corpses instead of one. Could John understand? Could he forgive me? Was Caelan a good soul who would survive? I couldn’t choose. It wasn’t up to me to make the decision.
“I can’t,” I cried as the gun trembled in my hands.
“Yes, you will!” Matthew yelled, pounding on my chair. He wasn’t human.
John opened his eyes. He knew who I was, but I couldn’t tell if he understood my position or situation. I needed to speak to him. I wanted to ask him what I should do. I needed forgiveness for what I was demanded to perform: an execution. He looked at me with sorrow, regret, and everything in between, as though the whole world’s grief rested solely in his large, despondent eyes. I shook my head and lowered the gun.
Caelan had been watching me, hoping and wishing he would be spared. His gleaming eyes flickered with life and energy, but he lacked passion and empathy. His blank stare was of pure fear without the slightest thought of John’s life’s value.
“One minute,” Matthew announced, and I begged for mercy. He couldn’t force me to do anything of the sort, but I couldn’t let him kill both. I closed my eyes as Matthew started to count down. I needed to decide, but I couldn’t raise the gun or pull the trigger. I couldn’t take someone’s life. If Matthew hadn’t been standing behind me, I could have gladly taken his life, pulling the trigger without a second thought.
“Ten, nine, eight . . .” Matthew’s voice rang in my ears.
“Seven, six, five . . .” I tried to release the weapon but couldn’t.
“Four, three . . .” I couldn’t live with it if both died. I had to choose.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry . . .” I whispered louder and louder, denying what had to be done.
“Two . . . one.”
The shot resonated in the room, blasting my eardrums. I kept my eyes shut, unable to see what I had done. I couldn’t believe I had fallen to Matthew. I had become his submissive, mercenary marionette. I had killed for him, his pleasure, his cruel, sadistic, demon soul.
Matthew pulled the gun from my hands, and I dropped to my knees. I needed another bullet for myself. I couldn’t live with what I had done.
“Good. Now look at what you’ve done and understand that it was right. Blood always needs to be shed for something else to live. Look! Be proud! You made the decision! Stand by it!” Matthew pulled my hair back, forcing my head up. Through my tears I saw a pool of blood at my feet. “Look!” Matthew repeated, tugging on my hair.
I moved my eyes slightly, examining the body before me—blond hair stained by thick blood, and its mirror eyes vacantly gazed back at me.
Days passed before Matthew returned to visit me again. I went through the days like a robot, just doing what they told me to do. I had no fight left in me. I cried myself to sleep every night.
One morning, Morgan brutally woke me up with a slap across my cheek. Matthew walked in with someone I barely recognized: Nick.
He had his hands cuffed behind him and an electric collar around his neck, choking him. His clothes were worse than rags, hardly covering his skeleton. His hair was oily, running down his face, blending into his thick beard. Dirt was smeared across his eyes, and rusted blood flaked around the multiple gashes along his jaw and up his arms. He was bent over, limping. His eyes were deep and piercing, but he looked dead.
Matthew pushed him to the ground in front of me and held a gun to his temple.
“Wait!” I screamed, but I was unable to stand as I was restrained to the chair. “What has he done?” I asked.
“What’s his name?” Matthew asked with a sharp pinch in his voice. He knew he was in full control.
“I don’t know,” I lied and looked away.
“What’s his name?” he yelled.
“How am I supposed to know?” I cried. I couldn’t lose Nick.
“Then it is indifferent to you.”
Matthew charged the gun, ready to shoot, tempting me.
“What if he has family?” I blurted. Nick’s eyes widened with fear. I had made the biggest mistake.
“What does that change?” Matthew smirked, but his eyes betrayed him. He had let a small, but strong flicker of empathy shimmer in his eyes. He glanced down to the golden band wrapped around his finger.
“What has he done?” I repeated firmly.
“As if you didn’t know. He’s from your beloved Shadows but was foolish enough to run in here with a tracking device. Unfortunately, his friends perished in the crossfire. He, on the other hand, has been experiencing our hospitality for the past couple weeks,” Matthew said evilly.
“At least I now know I’ve been receiving the same treatment as your best soldier,” remarked Nick with a faint smile.
Matthew pulled the trigger and shot Nick’s right knee. Nick screamed in pain as if his throat had been skinned, and I looked away.
“Tell me why he was sent here. What did he come for?” Matthew said in a calm voice.
“I don’t know!” I couldn’t bear watching Nick roll around at my feet in anguish, but I didn’t know what to do.
“Then I guess there’s no use keeping him. He’s only wasting our prison cells and winter provisions. He doesn’t talk much anyway.” Matthew charged the gun again.
“Why now? Why did you bring him to me now? You said he’s been here for weeks, so why now?” I said frantically.
Matthew dropped his arm and gazed at the floor, surprised by my question.
“Because he’s being attacked and not doing too well. He thought he was superior, had advantages . . .” Nick laughed, but was kicked in his ribs. He coughed blood at my feet. “He’s desperate . . .”
Matthew glared at him as he stepped on his bleeding knee; Nick screeched in agony.
“Stop!” I yelled. The sight of torture was unbearable.
“Why did he challenge me?” Matthew asked as he put more pressure on Nick’s leg.
“I don’t know!” I repeated honestly.
“That’s not good enough, Alexia. Maybe his blood on your hands will trigger your memory. Or will it take more deaths and bodies? Please tell me now so I can accommodate your need.” Matthew’s tone was sadistic, and a tormented smile ran across his face.
Matthew took a knife from one of his soldiers and glided his finger along its clean blade. He pulled Nick up and held the knife against his throat. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had to do something, anything!
“Last chance, Alexia. What’s so important to The Shadows that they are willing to challenge me? Your words for his head. A fair price.” Matthew’s purple eyes were blazing.
“I–I . . .”
“Three seconds and we move onto some lucky guy named Sebastian,” announced Matthew. He started to slowly count down, and I panicked.
“I don’t know!” I cried. “I haven’t been there for a year! What do you want me to say?” I couldn’t breathe anymore.
“Tell me why they came!” Matthew’s face was bright red like a rose in bloom. He pressed the barrel of the gun against Nick’s chest, next to his heart, still holding onto the blade, suggesting there was more to fear. “Two . . .”
“They wanted your plans! They’d heard of the major attack you planned for April and are trying to prevent it from happening,” I blurted out the first lie that came to mind.
Matthew paused. He bought it and relief settled my heart as he stopped counting. Matthew then pulled the knife across Nick’s cheek and threw him to a soldier to haul him out.
“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Matthew held my wrists and glared at me. My heart raced. He took the blade and thrust it against my cheek, drawing blood. It stung, biting through the layers of skin.
“That’s a reminder that life rests in my hands and how you roll the dice when your friends’ lives are on the line.”
Matthew turned around and called in the doctor. Nothing could take away the wonderful feeling of having saved Nick’s life. I was in heaven for the moment.
“Prep her for the last procedure. I want it done in fifteen minutes,” said Matthew.
The doctor approached me, unstrapped my left arm, and pulled my sleeve up before refastening the lock. He then got a sterilizer and cleared my left hand before taking a permanent marker and drawing out a capital “M.” I panicked. Flashes of Maxime’s scarred hand whirled through my mind. I knew what the last procedure was: programming and rewiring my brain.
That was my limit. Matthew could beat me as much as he wanted, even skin me alive, lock me up, and tie me down, but he couldn’t take my memories away. He couldn’t cut that last string that tied me to life, to Maxime.
“Please, Matthew! I’ll train harder! I promise.” I tried to talk him out of it, but he just stood in the corner of the room, staring at my hand.
I begged and pleaded for the doctor to stop, but he wasn’t programmed to obey my orders.
“Matthew!” I screamed, but he didn’t even blink. “Why now? Just wait a little longer. I’ll do better. Please!”
“Why? Because you’ve reached the peak of your learning curve. You came back from The Shadows simply above average, but now, in theory, you’re undefeatable. And I need an heir. So, here we are, getting this done now.”
I started to fight the shackles that kept me still, but all it did was hurt me. Tears streamed down my face.
“Matthew, I’ve listened to you, I answered and obeyed. I don’t need a computer in my brain. Please! This is ridiculous. Come on!” I cried for him to put an end to it, but he laughed.
“No, you lied. Nick didn’t come for plans, because you’re the only one who knew of the plan. The rest of H.S.H.S. doesn’t even know, so he couldn’t have come to prevent an attack that he wasn’t warned of.”
I had trouble swallowing. “Then why did you let him live?” I was running on precarious grounds. There was always a reason for his choices, but this time it wasn’t logical, and I had run into the trap.
“So you can kill him yourself. It’ll be the perfect test to see if the program works. Trust me, this isn’t what I had planned.”
“Why rewire me? You’ve trained me, conditioned me. I’m barely human already!”
“I need your complete submission, total trust and loyalty, which come from control. You were supposed to understand that and be on my side with the upper hand, but don’t worry, I’ll get you there anyway. You’ll still think for yourself, only how I want you to act and what I want you to do.” He was insane, a psychopath, inhumane.
“Sir, we have a problem,” the intercom resonated around us. “They have taken a third of the ground, neutralized almost thirty percent of your men. Some are roaming the buildings, and I have lost video connection now. What are your orders, sir?” The voice was robotic, monotone, analytical.
“It’s only thirty percent. They can’t do much more. Keep your positions,” Matthew said confidently.
“Sir, we may have killed some of their men, but not even a fifth, and we are outnumbering them. They haven’t actually killed any of your men, but we have lost communication with them, and they are not responding to their usual programs. Sir, I think you need to call more men out.” The intercom was getting itself into more trouble. Matthew wasn’t the type to take orders.
“Call everyone! Annihilate them! Not one left, and no more survivors!” Matthew screamed. “What do they want?” He looked at me, his voice trembling with frustration.
“Your head,” I told him blankly.
Matthew turned and glared at me as everyone else cleared the room to fight outside. I had gained a few more hours of humanity. He slapped me across my face, scratching my eyebrow with his golden wedding ring.
“I’ll be back,” he announced and left quickly.
I was finally alone for the first time in over a year. I needed a way to free myself. I remembered my dagger in my boot from Sam, but had no access to it. I thought of squirming through the cuffs, shooting them, biting them, but everything was unrealistic and plain stupid. By the time I realized I was truly imprisoned, Matthew had returned.
He was furious, blinded by rage. He freed my right hand followed by my left. Relief ran through me. This was it—my one and only chance. I had to make a run for it. As soon as he bent over to unlock my feet, I pulled his gun from his belt. He immediately stepped back, shocked.
“Uncuff my ankles,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me go.” I held him at gunpoint. The temptation of pulling the trigger then and there was unbearable, but I couldn’t free myself. Only he had the key, and he was too far for me to take it from him.
When I could feel the blood circulating through my ankles I stood, but he punched me in the jaw, then kneed me in the stomach. I dropped the gun.
Matthew laughed, then dove for the gun, but I kicked him away. For once, he was the prey. I ripped the dagger out of my boot. I cut him a couple of times—I wanted his blood, his head, his life. I wanted revenge. I wanted him to suffer. Nothing other than his slow and painful death would quench my thirst.
He threw me against the wall, bashing my skull, and a steady, thin stream of blood trickled down my brow and filled my lips. I spun back and kicked him, followed by a few other strikes before he pounded on me. I ran the dagger across his arms, his hands, his chest, anywhere that I could reach. I pinned him to the wall and brought the blade to his throat. His purple eyes glimmered with fear and desperation, as his lips slowly let out quivering breaths. He was losing. This was my chance, to end his life. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt a smile creep onto my face.
Finally, he fell to his knees, defeated, surrendering to fear. I looked at his bloodied body. I hated him, and the idea of slicing his throat boiled in my veins. I slowly, calmly walked up to him, determined to finish him, to take his life, until he spoke.
“You can’t kill your father . . . not the man who gave you life,” he muttered in a deep voice.
I froze. My father? I didn’t believe him. He was lying. He was trying to save his neck. He couldn’t be my father. A father was supposed to love his child, take care of his child, help his child, but all he’d ever done was torture and kill. We couldn’t share the same blood. I refused to be his daughter.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he laughed. “Think about it—your eyes, your hair . . . You don’t know your last name or your parents. I was against giving you the C.I. Pill. You’re my heir. I can tell you everything you’ve ever wondered about.”