Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(39)
My head whips up and the tears vanish. “No,” I cry. “You made a deal.”
“So did you, daughter,” he spats. “And I allowed it because I thought your blood would be different. You would be different. Slutting yourself around for show is one thing. That’s a Raven trademark you’ll have to uphold at this point. But this betrayal is unacceptable. Did you think you could get away? Test my reach and maybe next time, make a run for it?”
“No, I—”
“Shut up! You can tease and sleaze all you want inside Rogen Tower and discreet, approved venues. You will not, I repeat, will not attempt to go off the grid. For this or anything else. Do you hear me?”
Anger boils in my veins. Just like before, the urge to fight back rises swiftly and irrationally. I felt it with Taylor and her incessant, mindless chattering about how everyone is beneath her and therefore deserving off less. I felt it when Melanie died and Titus rolled his eyes as he watched. I feel it now—a life force of its own.
I don’t even realize I’ve raised my arm until Titus bats it away and lifts his own. There is a poison coating his expression, a mask of complete malice and I know this time will hurt a lot worse than a few moments ago.
Even though I see it coming, I don’t move.
It’s a way out. As twisted and painful as it might be, I take it.
Maybe if I let him do this, he will leave Linc alone.
With that hope in mind, I let him hit me and the world disappears.
Chapter Twelve
My heartbeat pounds between my temples. It sends shockwaves of pain down my skull and out the tips of my limbs. Even my fingertips seem to tremor against the blankets with each echoing pulse. I can’t move without wincing in pain. The migraine is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I vow to make it the last time I stand and let Titus hit me.
Maria has been in and out with food for two days, but I haven’t touched anything beyond water. Titus came in again sometime during the early morning, but it hurt too badly to open my eyes. I felt his eyes on me for a while and then he left without a word. Just as well. I had nothing to say in return that wouldn’t get me killed.
Someone, Josephine I think, took my blood on the first day but no one said why.
The one thing that keeps me awake is the thought of Linc. I don’t know where he is or what has happened to him. None of the guards have come close enough for me to ask. Alton poked his head in after Maria earlier but he didn’t stay and I couldn’t make my tongue form the words inside my aching mouth.
Everything hurts. My head. My body. My heart.
If Titus has done something to harm him, I …
Nothing I can imagine is fitting. The thought is still unfinished when my bedroom door opens and Maria arrives with two white pills and a glass of water.
“From Dr. Josephine,” she says.
I place them inside my mouth and swallow without asking what they are. Maria waits patiently while I drink. Her gaze is strangely interested, but I am far too exhausted inside and out to care. I ignore the feeling of my jaw moving as I swallow. The right side of my face feels deformed and too large for the skin that covers it.
When I’m finished, Maria takes the glass. Without a word, she turns to go. I let her, unwilling to answer her questions or worse, pretend there aren’t any questions to ask. I settle back against my pillow as she leaves, hating how sleep is already overtaking me and I haven’t done a single thing to save Linc. Or anyone else.
I am more asleep than awake once the pills kick in. My dreams are vivid yet untouchable. I can’t seem to grasp the meaning of the abstract pictures and trails of color that coat my subconscious yet vanish the moment my eyes blink open. Soft yellows and pale whites—the images are faces without names set in places I’ve never visited. I try to find a meaning but exhaustion overtakes me before I can speculate too deeply.
What sort of drugs are these? That is my final thought as I succumb to yet another round of hazy, faceless dreams.
The woman from the picture beckons me. Her stiff arms are held hostage in the constraining threads of her too-small dress. I want to ask her why she’s wearing a garment made for a child, but no words come. I walk closer and closer until I’m standing outside the frame itself. She reaches a hand toward me and I raise my own tentatively closer to the surface of the photo in front of me.
The woman’s lips move. Ven, she seems to say. Nothing else. Just Ven.
I come awake suddenly, sitting straight up. Dizziness washes over me as I struggle to identify who or what disturbed me. My bedcovers glow with the faintest sliver of moonlight slanting through the thin gap between my curtains. It is enough to see my room is empty. With quiet breaths, I listen for noise beyond my closed door.
The remnant of a girl’s scream cuts through the stillness. It echoes up as if through the floor, though I can’t be sure through the distortion my dizziness has caused. My pulse speeds from erratic pulsing to a panicked hum inside my head. I hold my breath and listen, praying it was my imagination, a leftover from my drug-induced dreams.
The second scream is louder than the first followed by a muffled baritone yell. I throw the covers back and swing my legs over. I can’t just lie here. Not anymore.
My door is unlocked and unguarded. I’m not sure if this is normal now that Alton has taken over—they can just as easily monitor me via the cameras that wink at me in the darkness overhead—or if the commotion coming from the floor below has drawn everyone else before me. Either way, I’m glad for it.