Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(20)

My fingers reach for the pendant again.

The concrete floor is almost unbearably uncomfortable and I adjust myself so I’m sitting on the floor with my legs crossed at the ankle in front of me. It’s impossible to keep the fabric covering my knees, but comfort outweighs modesty at the moment.

Gavin watches the movement and follows the hem of my skirt up my legs before turning his attention to the laces in his shoes. “Do you remember everything?” From the way he asks, I know he knows I don’t.

I look down at the ground. “No.”

“But you still think they’re not Conditioning you now?”

Hoped. Knew otherwise. Forgot.

I don’t say any of these things.

“I’m the Daughter of the People.”

He looks for a moment like he wants to ask more, but instead he asks, “How did you get to be Daughter of the People? Is Mother your real mom? Somehow I don’t think so.”

He is entirely too observant. I shake my head. “Mother … adopted me. She’s been waiting for the perfect genetic candidate. So, she made me her daughter, and gave me everything I could possibly want. My only requirement is to be a Breeder—to couple,” I say when I see the confusion on his face. “And it is an honor to fulfill my duty and ensure only the best are born in Elysium. We must continue my genetic legacy. There is no reason for mind control. I barely leave the Palace Wing, and when I do, the Guards are with me.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes. The room is silent, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s not like when I’m with Mother and the clock keeps ticking the time away.

“What about this coupling thing?” he says, and I jump. “Sorry.” He chuckles.

“It is an honor to fulfill my duty and ensure only the best are born in Elysium.” I frown. Why does that sound so strange when I say it? It sounds right when I think it.

He smiles as if to prove my point. “And what about this? With me? I’m sure your mother wouldn’t be happy you’re not finding out anything about me.”

I purse my lips, then say, “I’m not happy I’m not finding out anything about you.” I look up to meet his eyes. “But that’s for another reason altogether.”

He grins. “Do you remember any of our conversation from earlier?”

No, I think. And that’s the worst. That’s always the worst. Not knowing what I’ve said. Or done. I chew on my lip before forcing myself to stop.

“Bits and pieces,” I say finally.

But again he seems to know what I haven’t said. “This has happened before, hasn’t it? Isn’t it always the same?”

I don’t answer. It is the same. He continues to watch me and I finally understand what he’s trying to tell me.

“I understand what you’re saying.” I know I shouldn’t ask this, but I can’t help it. I have to know. “And you think … it’s a bad thing.”

He looks astonished, the way his mouth hangs open. “Well, yeah. They’re erasing your past! How can you even know who you are, if you can’t remember who you’ve been?”

My own mouth drops open, but before I can say anything he’s continuing. “And just a few minutes ago, you were so confused you didn’t know where you were or what you’ve said. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like that?”

I shake my head. “So … what would I do? To stop it?”

He taps his fingers on his knees. “How often do you go to the Therapist?”

“Only when Mother feels I should have someone to talk to. It’s supposed to be every day but…” I touch the pendant again. “Lately, she hasn’t been enforcing it.”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know.” I glance up at him. “I can’t always remember being at his office or anything directly before or after, but it’s been less and less lately.”

“So, she only says you need to see the Therapist at certain times. Interesting. Probably has something to do with your behavior or something you do, then.” His fingers stop tapping and he stares into space. “I’ll bet it’s whenever they see something they don’t want to, and then they fix it.” His eyes slash to mine. “Just don’t let on that things are different. We can’t let them Condition you anymore.”

“Why do you care?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“You think it’ll help you escape.” It’s not a question. I already know the answer.

He blinks and his eyes give away how surprised he is that I guessed the truth, before he stares at his legs.

I smile at him. “It’s all right. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. If I came from where you came from, I probably wouldn’t trust anyone, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“The Surface.” I point up. “All that war, and fighting … I don’t know how you could trust anyone.”

“As opposed to here, you mean.”

I nod.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve gotten a real warm welcome here.”

“I admit you’ve gotten a bad first impression. The turret killing your friend, and being locked up here, but—”

He cuts me off. “What I find stranger than that is the fact that you do trust anyone living down here.”