Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(19)

“I’m much better because of you. Thank you.” He reaches out a hand, then seems to think better of it and drops it to the floor. “You said you went to your Therapist. Why do you see one?”

“I said that?”

He nods.

I caress the charm, grateful for it as always. “I don’t know. I assume it’s because of my condition. I’m … forgetful.” I pleat the hem of my skirt again, and then adjust it, so it’s covering my knees.

He’s watching my movements carefully, as if afraid I might have another relapse. “What do you do there?” he asks.

“We just talk. About my flowers, my books. Violin lessons. Things like that. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.” I blink at the detached tone to my voice. It doesn’t sound like me at all. “That sounded a little odd.”

“Everything you’ve said since you got here has been weird.”

“It has?” I glance around. The Guards are back to whatever game they’re playing with little rectangles of cardboard.

“Yes,” he says, drawing my attention back to him. “You’ve been trying to find out how I got in. Don’t you remember?”

I hold a hand to my head as flashes come to me, but only vaguely. Like a dream. “No. Not really.”

He scoots closer and bends down to peer into my eyes. “What else happens at these appointments? Do you remember?”

“Just what I said. He listens while I talk and we have a good conversation. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.” I frown again at how different that last sentence sounded.

He adjusts his posture and there’s excitement in it as he leans closer. He’s mere inches from me, but I don’t back away. “Do they give you anything while you’re there? Do you drink anything? Eat anything?”

“No. We just…” I trail off when I remember the medicine Mother insists the Maids give me every morning. “Mother does sometimes.”

He smirks. “I knew it,” he whispers.

“Knew what?”

He leans forward so his mouth is almost next to my ear. His breath washes over my neck and I tremble. My body fights itself as half wants to pull away and the other strains to move closer.

“I think they’re brainwashing you. It’s the only explanation. Why you’re constantly repeating things. Why you’re a bit … strange.”

I slide away slightly, so I can think properly. The only thing I can think about is how it’s against the law to touch him, but how nice it feels when he touches me. “What’s brainwashing?” I whisper, my pulse still skittering around my veins.

He pulls back and gives me a curious look. “It’s a process that … persuades others to conform to the wishes of someone else.”

“You mean Conditioning?” I ask. Conditioning isn’t exactly that, but it sounds close. It’s how we train the Enforcers. To get their bodies to learn the complicated maneuvers, to follow Mother’s orders unequivocally, and to shut down their emotions so they won’t interfere.

His eyes light up. “Yes. Exactly. That’s what they called it during the War. Conditioning.”

I shake my head. “They don’t do that to me. Only Enforcers.” However, my heart beats a little faster.

His eyes widen and his mouth works for a minute before he finally asks, “You Condition the Enforcers?”

“Certainly. How else would you train a three-year-old girl to be an Enforcer?” I ask.





CHAPTER SIX



It is a privilege and an honor to serve as an Enforcer, Elysium’s most prestigious designation … Conditioning is the ideal training method as it is safe, quick, and painless.





—EXCERPT FROM SO YOUR DAUGHTER HAS BEEN CHOSEN TO BE AN ENFORCER. CONGRATULATIONS! PAMPHLET





Gavin’s jaw drops and his hands fall to his side. “That little girl was three when they started training her to kill people?”

“Yes. That’s the age we all get our designations. And it’s the perfect age to start Conditioning. The body is still adjusting itself to everything around it. The bones are still pliable and the muscles still developing. Mother tried other ages, but the candidates always failed.”

“That’s … that’s awful.” He reaches a hand out again, but glances at the Guards and lets it drop. “And you’re sure they haven’t done this to you?”

“Yes.” My answer comes immediately, without question. As soon as it does, it feels wrong on my tongue. I rush to explain more, but I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. “Anyway, none of the Enforcers remember anything from before the age of ten. It’s part of the process. That’s the age when they start their duties. Before that is inconsequential.”

“But how do they remember their training?”

“That’s part of the Conditioning,” I say. “They remember … only what they need to remember.” What they let them remember.

Perhaps it feels wrong because that has been one of my fears. That I was—am—Conditioned. It’s truly the only thing that explains … everything. How Gavin claims I’ve said things that I don’t remember saying. How I’m always forgetting things I know I did.