Broken

.2.

Ami'la looked at me with large, vibrantly blue eyes. They were the same colour as the electricity in plasma balls. They even shared the same pink colour around her pupils. I glanced down, her suit was pressed perfectly and her black hair pulled back from her face. Her mocha coloured skin, as always, was flawless even with the tiny lines that branched out from the corners of her eyes and mouth. She didn't have any seven years ago but dealing with my case I understood why she had gained them. I was quite a difficult and stressful person to work with.

"Liviya Burch." She let out a sigh and there was a soft look to her face. "Your hair's too long, I should cut it off." Silence fell after the slightly teasing words and I felt a small smile cross my face as I watched as a small smile crossed hers as well. A crack in the professional exterior she wore.

I felt accomplished, relishing the small smile. Not because I believed it would help me at all. No, I relished it because it was nice to see someone smile. I had been getting sympathetic looks or outright stares since my birthday. Watching that small smile as it crossed her face made it feel like any other day.

"Did you know that, that could be that last time you ever say those words to me?" I tilted my head at her and she raised an eyebrow at me. There were two things I knew Ami'la didn't like about me. The length of my hair and my morbid, sarcastic sense of humour I had cultivated carefully and lovingly since my eighteenth birthday.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "You get more morbid every time I see you, Liviya. It's not healthy." She let out a heavy sigh, suddenly the air felt oppressive. I shifted in my chair slightly, uncomfortable at the sudden heaviness. "You are the most difficult case I have ever had. I have never experienced such issues with a human before. It is as if your soul is rejecting any form of attachment. We have tried bonding, intimacy therapy, behaviour therapy, and every other therapy we thought could help you. We are out of options, Liv." I frowned at the use of my nickname. Ami'la never used my nickname and I felt a familiar tiredness enter my bones.

"You are aware that if this bonding doesn't work, that if you cannot form an attachment, you will be slated for recycling immediately, are you not?" Her words were soft and I gave a short nod. There was no need to drag the process out. "Liv, you could pretend." Her words surprised me and I looked at her, my eyes narrowing in confusion but her expression was sincere. "No one can tell if a human is mated properly or not because a child will result no matter the circumstances. Humans are incredibly fertile." Her gaze wavered slightly as she pressed her lips together.

"They don't test for anything else. No one would know." She said the last words softly, swallowing hard. I knew this was hard on her, we had spent quite a bit of time together in the past seven years. I was her only repeat customer, as she affectionately called me many times before. We were friends and I wanted to hug her as I told her it would be alright but I knew it would be pointless.

"I would know, Ami'la. It's okay. If this doesn't work, I've made peace with what will happen." I gave her a small smile and she appeared to try her best to force her expression to be professional but the sadness still lingered at the edges.

"I wish there was another way, Liv. I truly do." Regret and despondency mixed together in her voice and her eyes showed the sincerity of the words.

I tilted my head as I looked at her. "Oh, so there is no option of living under a bridge like a troll, scaring children with my horridly ugly face?" It was a familiar attempt at humour that wasn't lost on her and I watched the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. The familiarity seemed to lighten the atmosphere in the room and I felt like I could breathe again.

"Sadly, you don't qualify for that program." Her eyes were kind as she stood up.

I made a slight face. "Damn it all! I practised scary faces all night for nothing." I gave a small chuckle as I stood up, waiting for her to lead the way to my fifty-fourth chance at life. It was time to go. Time for my last chance.