One For The Road

35: Reflection, Part 1

How the tables had turned.

I loved Annie to death, and it sure as hell didn't take an expert to figure out that the poor girl was miserable. I was an expert at that, though, and if there was anyone in the world qualified to offer help, it was me.

Step one was to get her to admit it to herself. That was still a work in progress, but with the way she was acting, it wouldn't be too hard to get her to figure it out. Step two was to get her out of the house and on her way to living her dreams. Overall, it was a simple plan, and as long as she cooperated with me, we could have her on the second step by the end of the day.

She slept in the next morning since she was probably hungover as fuck. Josiah always claimed that Annie never drank until I came around, and even though it was definitely a little bit of an exaggeration, at the heart of the issue, there was some truth to it.

Somebody like Josiah—hell, even someone like me—could never be good enough for her. She was everything anyone could ever want for humanity: caring, kind, and a genuine soul. And if I could convince her of that, for once, I'd accomplish something important.

There was still nothing to do, and I needed Annie to get up before every last drop of sanity seeped out my mind. In the living room, all of the clocks ticked in their typical coordinated fashion, and as I sat on the couch, the off-white walls inched closer to me with every second that passed.

Just as my phone started to ring, a pair of footsteps creaked closer to the living room. With Drake and Josiah in the garage, there was only one person they could have belonged to. I ignored the call without even looking to see who it was. They could wait.

"Good morning," I said as she walked by.

"No." Annie picked one of the clocks from the perimeter of the display off the wall and looked at her reflection in the face of it. Then she let it fall to the ground.

She was pissed. I smiled. She was pissed, and I fucking loved it.

"Staying behind when the rest of you went to Cleveland was the most liberating thing in the entire world. I just did what I wanted, and no one yelled at me." She kept her eyes on the clock at her feet. It didn't look broken, but that wasn't the point. "And when are you guys leaving next? Who knows. We put all of our eggs into this stupid robot basket, and it's not going to go anywhere. There's nothing."

"Trust me, the nothingness is killing me too," I said. "Unless someone gives me something to drive, I'm just going to drive myself insane."

"Well, I'm glad that they're taking you into consideration too." Every word that came from her mouth dripped with a brutal bitterness that I didn't even know she had in her.

I hadn't even thought about that, either. They knew damn well I needed something to destroy unless I wanted to do it to myself. The whole reason I ever fell into their hands was that I already did it once.

What the hell was worse, getting constantly shit on by RTR or by Sacrilege?

Roger Truscott was probably worse, but—

Annie's tone softened. "Maybe it's just this goddamn headache, but I don't know how much more I can take. I honestly don't."

"You don't have to keep it up. You're smart and talented, and you deserve to be somewhere where people recognize it and make you feel useful," I said.

Even if I explained it to her, she'd probably never get that I had been there. Of course, Drake always made me feel talented and useful, but—

Just as he crossed my mind, Drake called my name, but I pretended I didn't hear. Annie wanted to talk, and with all the time I spent around deafening engines, it was believable.