Chapter 4: Mom and Dad

I wake in another medical bed, only this one is a little bit more comfy. Its sheets hug my body, which has been dressed in loose clothes. A soft cotton shirt and short shorts dress me—a stark contract to the paper gowns and nakedness I’ve been living in these past few days. I have another IV in my hand and a clamp around my finger. I waggle it and huff, tired of being hooked up to machines.

The room I’m in is small. The bed and medical cabinet take up most of the space. There’s one door, which is locked, and a window. I press my face to the cold tinted glass and peer outside. I long for a breath of fresh air. The last time I was outside was on the boat.

The sky is grey and gloomy. The grassy patch outside is heavy with fresh rain. I’m on a high floor of a black building that looks heavily armored. Men with weapons and thick vests march up and down the gravel paths outside. I can’t see much of what’s in the distance but a row of fog-thick trees. Silhouettes of towering buildings peek out through the haze, but not enough to tell if they’re real. When a guard looks up and spots me, I inch away from the window and settle back on the edge of my bed.

I puff my chest out with a heavy huff, and by the time I exhale my door opens. A nurse who isn’t Lucy comes in. She doesn’t speak, and keeps her head down as she rests a food tray on the cabinet. She leaves in a rush, dragging a cart with other trays on it. I lunge to ask her how long I’ll be locked away, but she’s gone before I get the chance.

Breakfast is light. It always is. A small portion of meat, an even smaller portion of bread, and a single cup of oatmeal. There are strawberries in it today. I nearly cry when the fruit touches my tongue. I haven’t had strawberries in so long. Something about them sparks another memory on the backs of my eyelids. Strawberry picking, summer sun, mosquito bites, and homemade vanilla ice cream. I try to hold on to the memory for a minute longer, but it slips through my fingers like trying to hold water in my hands.

The door opens again after I swallow the last berry. I turn, expecting another nurse, but instead a strange man stands in the doorway. He’s tall and lean with beige blonde hair that sits in short waves on his head. His features are sharp, and his skin is smooth. With thin wire glasses on his nose, he’d be the spitting image of attraction, but his myriad of piercings disrupts the aesthetic. Tiny copper-colored balls and barbells cover his cheeks, eyebrows, lips, nose, and ears. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more stuck in hidden places I can’t see yet. He stares at me, his jade green eyes wide with shock. I inch back, feeling small in my skin, but he advances.

“Emma?” He asks.

I still. I glance around, but of course I’m the only one here.

The man laughs. As I suspected, there’s another piercing in his tongue. He turns around and says to a figure in the hall, “It’s her, Cat.”

He steps inside and invites a woman in with him. She’s taller than he is, with long, slender legs and a perfectly thin frame. She looks like a supermodel with sharp cheekbones and plump lips. Her eyes are dark and sharp like daggers, and her hair falls in loose, dark brown curls just past her shoulders. She gapes when she sees me.

“We thought we lost you,” the man says. He laughs as he speaks, as if utterly astonished.

When he gets closer, I back away until I’m pinned against the window. “Who are you?”

The man smiles. “Doctor Wentzler said this might happen. Your memories are weak and broken. Don’t worry, kiddo. We haven’t forgotten you.”

My mouth goes dry. I glance between the man and the woman. I can see some similarities between us, though my hair is darker and my skin is paler. Still, familiarity takes over me, pouring tears down my cheeks.

“You’re my parents,” I say, swallowing a sob.

The man—my father—runs up to embrace me. I bubble with laughter when he scoops up my hips and brings me to the bed. He settles me on his lap and kisses my cheek. His lip piercings feel strange against my skin. His knee digs into my still sensitive privates, and I fight the urge to grind my clit against his bone.

“My name is Emma?” I ask.

Dad wraps my arms over his shoulders. He nods and scoops up my butt to keep me from sliding. “That’s right. Named after my mother. It was a shock when you grew up to look like her, too.”

Mom threads her fingers through my long hair. She twists her lips with uncertainty. “This has gotten long.”

I shrug. “I like it this way.”

“You didn’t use to,” Mom says. She pulls out the key to the cabinet and rifles through its drawers for a brush.

“We can give her a trim before she’s replicated,” Dad says, helping pull my locks back for Mom to brush them. Her technique is rough and she tugs at my roots. But my hair feels thick and tough, so it handles the harshness with only minimal pain.

“Not today,” Mom says, almost snapping. “We have a schedule.”

Dad nods solemnly, then turns back to me with a grin. “Have you eaten yet?”

I motion to the empty tray. I’ve gotten good at eating my portions in one sitting now. I almost wish they’d give me more.

“Are you gonna take me home?” I ask.

Mom laughs without thinking. Dad flashes her a sharp glare to get her to quiet down.

“No, sweetie...” Dad says softly. He waves Mom away so he can have me to himself. He pulls me off of his lap and settles me on the bed. “This is your home now.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. I thought...”

Wait, what did I think? Do I even have a clue what I’m doing here? What’s my purpose? What am I?

“It’s too dangerous to take you out of the facility now,” Dad says. He pushes Mom out of the way toward the cabinet. Inside, he disinfects his hands and snaps on a pair of black latex gloves. His fingers wiggle inside, ensuring a proper fit. “Your brain is broken, sweetie, and your fate is sealed.”

“What is my fate? What happened to me?”

“You were kidnapped,” Mom says. She sits on the edge of the bed and teases the hem of my shorts until a small sliver of my pussy is out on display. Her eyes sparkle at the sight of it.

“I remember that,” I say. The public bathroom. The cracked mirror. Men. Hands. Humiliation. Then cold, quiet nothingness for hours afterward.

“That was three years ago,” Dad says. He gathers items from the cabinet, but with his back turned to me, I can’t tell what he’s getting. “We didn’t know what had happened to you. But we had a few guesses.”

Mom nods. “The facility often swipes extra bodies here and there around the world to pad out their overstock. That’s how I lost my brother.”

“And the neighbor,” Dad adds. He pulls a plastic basket over and sits it on the edge of the bed. I recognize the sterile spray and leather restraints, but everything else is nothing more than faint shapes that some part of my subconsciousness struggles to recall. “Undesirables, they’re called. You were taken by mistake, in the back of a diner on a school field trip.”

“I remember it was a bathroom,” I say.

“That’s what I said. A diner bathroom. Don’t interrupt,” Dad snaps.

“Sorry...”

Mom rubs my back as she crawls onto the bed behind me. She makes me sit on my knees while she throws my hair into a loose braid.

“Cagers aren’t catalogued,” Mom continues. “Not unless they’re brought here, to the institute, but that’s extremely rare.”

“Those who are chosen specifically for this extraordinary facility are a very special breed. When we got the call that you were picked, we dropped everything to rush over.” Dad sits at the opposite end of the mattress, facing me. He tilts my chin up and peels my lip down, though I don’t know why. He’s looking at my teeth, maybe. His brow twitches with curiosity.