1 | The Terrible Dreamer

Chapter 16

WISH

I awake up crying. Tears run down my cheeks, hot and fresh. It's too much. Not even a dream can stop my thoughts from running wild—can't stop me from thinking about Kusanagi Sensei. Her death is burned into my skull, every time I close my eyes, I see her dead in my arms.

Will this guilt ever pass? I fear it won't.

It takes me fifteen minutes to crawl out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. The water is cold on my palms, stinging my skin as I splash my face, but it wakes me up. Today, is a new day. For a moment there is peace and quiet. Until I finish doing my morning routine and get dressed. My mind starts to wander, again, to yesterday.

Meditation is an option. It would help me hone my senses and tune myself to Mother Nature's presence. Yet, it's not enough. Today, I just need to relax, find another distraction that will not only take my mind off things, but help me find an answer. There has to be a way to stop Vear without anyone else dying and without handing him the butterfly.

I grab my quilt blanket off the beanie chair and head for the living room. The house is quiet this morning. Mom still isn't back from the Andreatte's Main House. We didn't speak to each other last night. Better to start over with a calm state of mind the next day, then get into an argument at the heat of the moment. That's how my family has always functioned.

Our living room is like the rest of the house, comfortable and homey, different from the Main House and our office. Here we can be ourselves. Pictures of my childhood line the fireplace mantel, along with pictures of my parents as young as me. The couch is old, a relic from my middle school years. The chenille material is worn down, pilling around the edges where the shaver can't reach. It's perfect. I've slept on this couch so many times, it feels like I'm back in bed.

I turn on the TV. The news is already rolling, airing out of schedule as it seems to at least once a day. The words "Breaking News" scroll across the bottom of the screen. The anchorman is handsome, a prerequisite for the job it seems, with his hair slick back, parted off to the side, and wearing a suit that Aiya would approve of. There's a tablet lying flat on the desk beside him. He clasps his fingers together as a picture of the woman I just helped last week appears in the corner of the screen.

"Erica Wells, the founder of Second Chances, was found dead last night in her home in New York City. Her death is being ruled as a suicide. An investigation is on-going. Second Chances is most known for their robotic AI Prosthetics. They've served over 300,000 people since 2060 and continue to serve through their outreach programs in third world countries. Arnold Croft, Chief Operator, has offered his condolences, stating, 'Wells was a pioneer. Her ambition to help others surpassed Second Chances. She leaves behind a legacy that will be seen for generations to come."

I can't believe it. That woman and her red purse.

They must have tracked her movements. Who knows how long.

I drop my forehead onto my arm and try not to think about it, but the emotions come anyway. I could've done something. I should've done something. I should've told her to ditch that purse. It painted a target on her back. Now she's dead, just like Kusanagi Sensei. And that prick Arnold Croft is running free, just like Vear.

Choices have consequences. Both of mine ended in two deaths.

The news continues on, never pausing for a brief moment, always spewing negativity after negativity. I can't even remember why I thought turning the TV on was a good idea. To what? Find a distraction. Well, look where that got me. I reach for the remote as a picture of Mars' Settlement displays behind the anchorman.