The Destroyed Girl

Chapter 19: The Boy

RHEA'S POV
The kids are all talking in the berg. I stand in the corner as Teresa rides the berg.

Andrew spots me. He's got Ava's eyes. I wave him over. He comes.

"We need to talk," I say slowly, really taking in his features for the first time, now that we're up close.

He's got a sharp jawline and nose, and he isn't short, though not as tall as me. Yet. I'm a few inches taller. His skin is fair like mine. His hair must have come from his father, like how mine came from mine. Which is good, because I've always hated Ava's blonde hair.

I lead him into a small room, labelled on the door as the Mini-Conference Room. There are two leather armchairs in there, each facing each other. Andrew sits on one and I sit on the other one, facing him, a coffee table between us.

"Is something wrong?" Andrew asks, frowning.

I run a hand through my hair, though it's tied up. "No, no. We're all safe now. The cure's been unleashed. I just... I didn't know till four days ago. And... well there's something you should know."

Andrew stiffens. "Yes?"

I lean back against the seat so that I can have a clear view of his reaction. My scar is almost non-visible to someone without sharp eyesight. I couldn't find another hoodie, but the strange thing is that I don't feel like hiding anymore. Especially now, when I want to see the world. This new world.

I finally look up at him, and he looks concerned, worried and fearful.

"You're my half Brother," I say slowly, and his eyes widen. "Your mother. Her name's Ava. You may know her as Chancellor Paige. She's... well, she gave birth to me as well."

Is it wrong, how easy it is for me to talk of her as if I didn't kill her with my own hands? Is it wrong for me to not feel any regret or pain?

"What-what are you saying?" Andrew asks slowly.

"I'm saying that we share the same mother. But we didn't have the same Father. No, our fathers are both dead," I say, chuckling a little darkly at the end.

Andrew shakes his head. "And- and Ava? How...?" A disbelieving laugh leaves him. "There's no way. Ava... I hate her. And she never told me. And she wanted to put me in the Maze. She isn't my Mother. You're lying. There's no way the devil could be my Mother."

I almost smile at the last sentence. "I'm not lying. I can prove it to you," I say, tapping my fingers against the armrests of the chair.

"Then prove it," Andrew says, fists clenched.

I sigh, reaching into the pocket of my jacket to take out a crumpled piece of paper. "Teresa took your blood last time. Me and you, we both made the cure," I say, carefully watching him for his reaction. "But I stole some of that blood and did a DNA test."

I unfold it and hand it to him.

His eyes skim the page and he shakes his head, his face growing paler. "No. No. Ava can't be my Mother. I hate her. I'm going to kill her."

I smirk a little at that. Well, maybe she passed on some gene to us. Or maybe she's just a horrible person to everyone who knows her. "Too bad, kid. I can't let you do that."

"Don't tell me you and Ava are close," Andrew's face contorts in disgust.

I scoff out an incredulous laugh. "No. We aren't. It's just that I've already done it."

Silence falls between us as Andrew gapes at me, as if seeing me in a new light. I worry for a second that maybe he thinks I'm a cold hearted murderer now, but in his eyes are... relief. A relief that echoes mine.