Under My Skin (9 page)

Silence filled the space, and I couldn’t shake the urge to curl into a protective ball. Until I heard the voice again.

“So much room in here for me to expand,”
he said.
“So much space.”

My eyes snapped shut. Images and words bounced around my head—the old man I’d seen in the cave. His promise for my torture to end. But now I was hearing voices.

Even worse, Rebecca and the enforcers hadn’t reacted to what he said. Nothing.

Why could I hear him and they couldn’t?

The voice continued to speak to me.
“Closing your eyes won’t get rid of me.”

I clenched my fists and prayed for silence. Maybe it was the pain medication or the shock like Rebecca had said.

“Shut up! You’re not real,” I whispered out loud. My voice barely carried beyond the creases of the pillow.

He laughed.
“Oh, but I am quite real. Would you like for me to be quiet? Will you cry if I don’t shut up?”

I tried to focus on the burgundy wallpaper. Compared to the white-washed walls of my home, this place was a dark dungeon.

All the while, I kept whispering to myself again and again, “He’s not there. He’s not real.”

“You keep talking to yourself like that and Rebecca might have to put you under for the night.”
His threat was icy.
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

When my lips quivered, my fingers crept over my mouth. The whole situation made the pain in my back spread to my forehead where a dull ache grew. My wound and concussion must have made my mind weak and tired, so I had to be hallucinating.

Rebecca stood. Even with my back to her, I could tell she stepped toward me, questioning my behavior. I held my breath. Sucked it deep into my chest to hold my biting words back.

Be quiet.
He’s just a part of your overactive imagination
.

But ignoring him was impossible. It was like trying to stop breathing or slow my heartbeat. He was chained to my head.

When nothing worked, I started at one hundred and counted backward. He mocked my progress once I whispered the numbers out loud. Almost as if he couldn’t hear me otherwise.

“You can’t be serious. A countdown to get rid of me? This’ll be interesting.”

“Sixty-five. Sixty-four. Sixty-three…”

The numbers soon blended together. I’d hoped he’d stop finding ways to torment me. Thankfully, sleep found me first.

The persistent beeps from the heart monitor woke me up. It was my heart racing from the voice of the man who wouldn’t shut up.

“About time you woke up,”
the man barked.
“It’s time for us to eat.”

My stomach grumbled painfully. I’d hoped to wake up and find out that it was simply a bad dream. The irritating voice in my head reminded me that it wasn’t.

“Tell Rebecca that we’re hungry and it’s time to eat. I’m hungry—you’re hungry.”

“Bite me.” I hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but the words snuck out of my mouth.

A series of machines at the side of the bed beeped. I turned in bed and glanced up to see Rebecca changing a bag of clear fluid. The guards were gone. I guessed she’d never left my side over the course of the day. From the lack of light peeking through the curtains, it had to be night time now. I’d slept all day. Had she sat there staring at me? Just another reason for me to find her creepy. While the old man’s voice grumbled, she inserted a needle into my arm to give me liquids from the bag. I flinched when she adjusted my pillows.

“Can you be quiet please?” I hissed as quietly as I could.

Rebecca’s face was blank. “I haven’t said anything to you.”

My mouth went dry, and I kept my gaze focused on the crimson bedspread. A series of beautiful, yet elaborate patterns should’ve captured my attention—if it hadn’t been for the pure embarrassment of my behavior. What was wrong with me? She couldn’t hear the voice, yet I could.

“I mixed that up,” I said. “I’m not quite awake. I meant to ask, can it be less quiet? It’s practically a tomb in here. Can you play some music?”

For a brief moment, Rebecca glanced at a set of restraints on the cart filled with the supplies. Her eyes darted from me back to them. Instead of making a remark about them, she offered me food. “Perhaps some beef broth and juice will help you
wake up
.”

“No, thank you.”

The concerned look on her face wasn’t hard to miss.

To make the situation even stranger, she didn’t force me to eat. She simply adjusted the medical monitors attached to me and changed the bag again. Once she finished, she changed the dressing on my back.

During this whole time, the man continued his taunts.
“Are you hearing things?”
he said.
“Have we gone over the deep end yet?”

It became rather difficult to concentrate when Rebecca spoke. “The wound is healing well. I’ll have the doctor come check it in an hour or two.”

“Tell Rebecca to make you eat. I’m getting tired of feeling hungry
,” the man barked.

“Are you sure you don’t you need anything while I’m up?” She gestured to a tray of food.

“I don’t eat meat.” I shook my head with a grimace. Even in liquid form, I didn’t eat meat. The thought of eating that broth made my stomach churn.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it. What’s the matter with you, girl?”
He continued to fume, but I ignored him with a smug grin. That is, until my fingers started twitching. The tingling sensation returned. I watched with widened eyes as the digits moved
on their own
.

“So you want to play today?”
he said softly. “
I think you need to know who’s in control here.”

He was trying to gesture for Rebecca’s attention. With my other hand, I covered my rebellious fingers with the blankets.

“Go ahead. Fight back now.”
He laughed.
“I love a good fight. But it won’t always be like this.”
His cold warning made me gulp as my stomach growled.

Part of me wanted to ask him what he wanted from me, but why would a sane person ask the imaginary voice in their head such a question. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I couldn’t bargain with a
hallucination
.

Instead of speaking to him, I settled back into the covers and closed my eyes. Some way—somehow, I’d ignore him and get some rest. Giving into the voice would just prolong my mental fatigue.

I’d survived a day without food. Another day wouldn’t hurt. In the middle of winter, when the ground turned to frost and our canned vegetables ran low, we didn’t eat as much. I’d survived back then. Even Zoe never complained much.

Tears threatened to flow again with the thought of Zoe, but I pushed them away. She had to be all right. For all I knew, Justina Helmquest just got hit with the most stubborn employee ever.

As much as I tried to lift my spirits, a part of me couldn’t shake the chill that flowed through the room. The nagging feeling that my own problem was more than mental fatigue. This feeling told me that even though early spring had come, I’d still experience the bitter cold of winter.

The sharp sounds of someone unfolding blankets drew me from slumber. I cracked an eye open to see the rays of sunlight filter through the tops of the heavy shade curtains. The whole place was so dark and gloomy, it seemed to suck what little optimism I had left. Pain radiated down my back as I shifted to see who’d arrived.

For once, Rebecca’s seat was empty.

My head was quiet as well. Perhaps a good night’s sleep was all I’d needed.

My visitor today was the shorter woman from earlier. When I craned my neck to peek at her, she addressed me. “You awake?”

I managed a nod. She had a friendly enough face. The crisp sheets cracked again as she flicked them in the air.

“You’ve slept for a long time. Do you want something to eat?”

I waited for my hallucination to make an appearance, but he remained silent. No itching sensation, nothing to indicate the side effects from my concussion had reared its ugly head.

Right beside her, sat a wheelchair and a rolling tray with a covered plate. I suspected the meal—like all the meals they’d offered me, was suited to the tastes of a nonvegetarian household. Late last night, Rebecca had offered me French onion soup with steak. The smell wafted down the hallway and filled the room with its rich and buttery scent. All of it was disgusting. Every part of this room boasted the wealth beyond those double doors. The Guild member who owned this place most likely had the finest chefs at his disposal. But all those seasonings and fancy presentations didn’t matter when I didn’t want what was offered on the plate.

“I’m Desdemona. Most folks call me Des. Your name’s Tate, right?”

I nodded again. Her full name sounded musical to my ears. I’d never heard of it before, but I liked it.

“Here,” she reached into the pocket of her blood-red dress and pulled out an apple. Shiny and green, the fruit filled her palm. “Miss Rebecca always tries to give people too much food before they’re ready to eat. I say, just a bit here and they’ll be fine. Simple food.”

I took a generous bite of the apple. The juicy taste burst in my mouth and I couldn’t help take several more bites. I’d waited far too long to eat again. By the time I sat up in the bed, I’d eaten the apple down to the core.

“Do you need me to get up?” I asked.

“Yes, but food first.” She came to the side of the bed with a plate. “Just a piece of bread here and some jam.”

The smell of the freshly baked bread made my mouth water. She must have seen my eyes light up when I saw the strawberry jam on the side.

“A girl like you doesn’t look like the type to eat all of those soups and such.”

I dove into the bread with glee. The thick strawberry jam dripped off the bread and stuck to my fingers. It was sweet and the taste reminded me of home.

“This is very good.” I licked my fingers. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up with fresh clothes and linens.”

Desdemona had gentle hands. Before she moved me to the wheelchair, she changed the dressing on my back.

I couldn’t see behind me, only feel the pain from the wound.

“Looks like the healing is coming along nicely. You had us scared for a while there. Are you in pain?”

“Not too bad.” I winced when she removed the dressing. I swung my legs off the side of the bed. For the first time, my toes touched the carpet’s soft surface. With Desdemona’s help, I eventually sat in the wheelchair. At first, I was relieved and hopeful for a shower. It had been far too long since I’d bathed, but the second the cushioned seat enveloped me, unease settled into me. The seat wasn’t brand new. Someone else had sat here before. Many times.

“Is this my employer’s seat?”

She didn’t look at me while she put my feet into the foot rests. “Everything here belongs to the Master.”

I was too weak to go anywhere on my own. I had no choice but to sit here.

While I took care of personal business in the bathroom, Des fluttered over me like my mom did when I was little. At first, I found it rather irritating—but I hadn’t expected to get tired from washing my face and brushing my teeth. The surroundings made the experience far more enjoyable. My bathroom at the Training Facility was dwarfed by this place. I washed my hands in a sink where I could see my reflection in the porcelain. Everything was so clean.

Curious about my appearance, I shifted my gaze to the mirror above the sink and gasped. The haunted dark circles under my eyes made my scar all the more prominent. My thick hair had tangled in a few places. I sucked in a deep breath. Was I dying? Was this what the walking dead looked like?

Des leaned around me and pushed a towel into my hands and I wiped them. As I did so, I noticed something was different about me. It was the bar code on my wrist. My permanent identification card to the world didn’t have the same set of lines and spacing.

I rubbed the spot twice in case my eyes had lost focus. Touched the marks over my pulse point. Everything was all wrong.

“Des, did someone change my bar code?”

Just like Rebecca, Des’s face reflected concern. “Why would someone change it?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “But this is wrong.”

I thrust my arm toward her. “There should be two thick lines, then a space, then three larger lines...”

She brushed her hand against my cheek as if to placate me. “That’s what I see, Tate. You must be seeing things.”

She was wrong.
I’d seen my bar code millions of times. It was required to access certain comm-console features, receive medical care from hospitals, and verify my identity to the enforcers. I knew what my bar code looked like and this new pattern wasn’t
mine
.

I stared at her for a few seconds before I took a step back. The urge for water hit my suddenly dry throat, but all the water in the room wouldn’t quench it.

“I’m not seeing things...” I croaked.

“You’ve been through a great deal. Perhaps I’ve gotten you out of bed too soon.”

One thing I knew for certain—I’d been shot. But I had strong doubts my concussion was affecting my vision. Things just didn’t fit right.

To get my mind off my troubles, Des led me back to the chair. With a smile, she wheeled me out of the master suite into a grand hallway. “How about we find something fun for you? Maybe a puzzle you can work on.”

The two enforcers were waiting right outside the door. It was hard to ignore them, but I managed to focus on everything around me. Des and I went down the hall and they shadowed us. With Des pushing my chair, I tried to forget about the sour feeling that returned. Had they always been standing outside my door? Were they watching me to make sure I didn’t attack the General? I was a new member of the household after all.

The extravagance around me drew my attention away from the shadowing guards, in particular to the furniture and wall hangings. They boasted wealth. Every few feet, a set of tall windows stretched high above my head. All of them covered with those death-shroud drapes. In between the windows, I stared at paintings of strangers. I expected them to resemble each other—to tell the tale of a family’s heritage, but they didn’t. Both men and women of every shade and physical feature stared back me. Their regal bearing should’ve kept my attention, but the stands in the hallway couldn’t be missed. The hallway was now peppered with stands that had vases of flowers on them. A few black wreaths as well.