Enna
I collapse onto the couch, dizzy with soreness and the memory of hallucinations. After Sam scolded me for the whole sword thing, I found myself spiraling into the same hallucination. This time, I fought hard to avoid the Voice, following my instructions of commanding the creatures. Their roars and jeers still fill my ears.
The silver stairs loudly echo my mother's footsteps as she descends them, and I jump from surprise. She still looks sick as ever, though her eyes light up in joyful recognition at the sight of me.
"Mom."
"Oh, Enna. I thought I'd never see you again." I almost cringe at the sound of her croaking voice, but instead I stand and hug her. I can feel her hands trembling weakly.
"What happened to you? Why are you still here?"
"They didn't give me a job to do. I'm too sick." My stomach jolts painfully when I realize that this is my fault. I'm the one who entered the Base in the first place.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my voice catching in the middle of the sentence. I can feel warm tears gathering behind my eyes.
"Stop saying that," Mom says, her tone hardened. She pulls away from the hug. "You have nothing to do with my sickness or this situation. All you tried to do was help people, which is more than any of us can say."
"You tried to help me," I point out quietly. "Matthew tried to help me." She doesn't have a reply to that. Just then, the door in the entryway slams open and I turn to face a very sweaty--and slimy-- Matthew. I don't know whether the look on his face makes me want to laugh or back away.
"What happened to you? You look awful!"
Matthew grumbles and mutters imperceptibly under his breath as he passes by, eventually closing himself inside the bedroom.
"Nice," my mom says. I roll my eyes, suddenly very tired. My mouth opens in an involuntary yawn.
"What did you do today?" She asks seriously. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It's just..." Realizing that I can't come up with the words to describe what Sam had put me through, I shrug. "They asked a bunch of questions and I answered them. Nothing exciting."
My stomach utters a monstrous growl, interrupting our conversation. My mother laughs shortly, taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen.
"When's the last time you ate?" She rasps. "You look like a straw." I sigh.
"The last time I ate period, or the last time I ate anything I wanted to eat?" I leave it at that. As Mom goes to prepare some soup on the stove, Ariel lightly descends the stairs and stares up at me, looking worn out.
"Enna?" She whispers.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I'm hungry..."
"Come in here, Ariel. I'm making some soup!" My mother shouts.
Ariel dashes into the kitchen, her droopy demeanor brightening instantly at the mention of food. Sorrow drops heavily into the pit of my stomach when I see how skinny the little girl is. I push my next thought out of my consciousness and head into the living room, plopping onto the couch in exhaustion.
After thinking long and hard about my testing, I start to grow cold with worry. It would be one thing if Sam had performed physical experiments on me: that way, I could guess what he wanted me for. But mental tests? The odd scenarios keep playing through my mind; terrifying, murky possibilities swirling into a confusing mess. I subconsciously brush my fingers over the stitches on my neck. If I'm forced to lead an army of enemies, won't I just be going against the people I care about?
I don't realize how much time goes by, but soon my mother calls out that the soup is ready. I don't realize how hungry I am until the warm, salty goodness courses down my throat. I finish the entire bowl in five minutes.
"So good," I moan. Ariel nods eagerly in agreement, her own bowl completely empty. I turn around to look at my mother, watch her stir the last bit of soup on the stove. I've never seen her look so... motherly. Even with the sickness that deepens and darkens her features. Longing for something I never knew crackles down my spine.
Just then, the bedroom door swings open and Matthew steps out. I promptly make a double take. His face is smooth, his hair is short, and his skin seems to glisten with lack of dirt. Embarrassed for staring so long, I bite my lip and utter a laugh that sounds forced and disconnected, rising from the kitchen table and crossing to the couch in the living room.
"What?" He asks sarcastically, eyes wide. He searches behind him. I shake my head.
"What happened to you?"
"That shower. Honestly, I don't know how you managed to look at me before."
"I usually close my eyes." Smiling, he leaves the doorway and sits next to me on the couch. I breathe in something sweet and heavy as I lean against his chest.
"So what really happened?" I whisper.
"It doesn't matter." I look back and raise my eyebrows skeptically. Matthew puts his hands up. "Honestly! It was just... maintenance."
I'm smart enough to know that average maintenance doesn't cause someone to look like they've been sneezed all over, but I let the subject slide, having my own worries to think about. I don't want to spend my time with Matthew distressing.
"So what happened to you today?" He asks carefully. I pause, considering my answer. Eventually I resign myself to telling the truth.
"It was Sam again. He strapped me down to a table and injected me with this... stuff." I feel Matthew's muscles tighten. "It sent me into this hallucination. But..." I struggle with what to say next.
"What?" Matthew holds my waist, and to my horror I feel hot tears come to my eyes.
"You won't think I'm crazy, right?" I whisper, hoping against hope that he can't hear my voice trembling.
"Never. Why? What's going on?" I take a deep breath, surprised at how hard this is for me.
"In the visions, or whatever, I keep hearing these voices, telling me what to do. Two of them. One that they want me to listen to, and one they don't know about."
"Oh."
"Matthew... Which one do I listen to?" I almost cringe at the pleading tone of my voice. This is way too much to ask of someone. Matthew is silent for a long time, and I start thinking that he doesn't have an answer.
"That's for you to decide, isn't it?" He whispers. "But I'll help in any way that I can. I'll help you get through this, whatever it is."
"But that's the thing. What if we're not meant to get through this? What if they already have what they want, and we're just a game to them?"
"Shhh, Enna. Don't talk like that." Matthew starts to rub my neck with his soft hands, and then his fingers slow down, feeling my skin. I feel my heart rate pick up speed.
"Enna?"
"Yes?"
"Why do you have stitches?"
"What?" My mouth dries instantly and my whole body tenses.
"What the hell did they do to you?" He demands, his voice growing louder and louder with anger. Realizing that I'll have to tell him the truth, I sit up and turn around.
"Matthew, please don't yell. There are people in the next room--"
"I don't care! Why wouldn't you tell me this?" My cheeks heat up.
"It was the first day and they were doing some testing on me, alright? I was tired and messed up. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" His voice is quiet now and I realize that it upsets me more than the yelling. He shakes his head. "Enna..."
"I'm sorry." I whisper. "I should have told you about it."
"Where else did they... experiment on you?"
"Everywhere, I guess..."
"I guess? Didn't you feel it? Doesn't it hurt?"
"No. They use some other kind of surgery..." I sigh. "I don't know, okay? It's over with and I'm tired and I'm already stressed enough."
There's a moment of staring at Matthew's hard eyes before they soften. "I don't want people touching you like that. Anyone."
"Matthew, it wasn't--"
"I don't care, Enna. The moment you forget your own worth is the moment you give up. And right here, right now, we can't afford to give up. Because if that happens, nothing we've been through is worth it. Not even us." When he says us, I know he's talking about me and him. I feel a heaviness weighing down on my heart. He's right. I've been losing my will to go on, forgetting what really matters in the long run. Matthew gently holds my waist and whispers in my ear.
"I love you."
Then, "I love you, Enna Price."
Those three words that I've never heard before ring throughout my head, echoing inside my skull. Shocked and confused, I stay silent, rising and falling with Matthew's rib cage when he breathes. As time goes on the pressure grows to find something to say; all the while, my fullness and warmth struggle to send me to sleep.
"I'm glad you came back for me," I finally whisper. After falling asleep some moments later, I feel the sensation of being carried into the bedroom and set down on the mattress, then a pair of lips on my cheek before the light is turned out.