I thought I got off lightly.
As I followed my mother back into the event room, straight into the relentless gushing of Dr Watson, she didn't say a word. Sandwiched between my parents in the cab home, neither of them mentioned it. And when I stumbled in my shoes on our gravel driveway, it was my dad who put an arm out to steady me.
Things were looking positive.
Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. The moment the click of the door echoed across the hallway, I was heading for the staircase, eager to scrub the flaking black make-up from my eyes and find a plaster for my foot. I would've been three stairs up had my mother's voice not stopped me in my tracks.
"Where do you think you're going?"
I paused, slowly turning back to face her. "Uh... to bed?"
"Not happening." She gestured toward the opposite door. "Kitchen. Now."
The two of them took the lead, and I was left with little choice but to follow their footsteps. My shoes sounded far too obtrusive on the kitchen tile, and my feet ached in protest, but the extra few inches seemed like a potential advantage in a face-off with my parents. Assuming that was what this was: with only my mother's tone to go on, I wasn't quite sure what to brace myself for.
The lights in the kitchen switched on automatically, and the sudden brightness seemed like an assault on the senses. When both my parents rounded one side of the breakfast bar, I took this as my cue to take the other – it was pretty clear we were on opposing sides.
Sitting on one of the stools felt a little too vulnerable, so I stayed standing, even if it meant I had to ignore the shooting pain coming from the balls of my feet.
All I wanted was for them to say something. Apparently, though, they were big on suspenseful silence.
"What?" I said eventually. "You want to tell me what's going on here?"
Mum glanced at Dad, who sighed. Only then did I notice how tired he looked: the direct overhead light was not flattering on his dark circles, and the lines of his forehead were etched deeper than ever before. "Astrid," he said. "Did you not understand the importance of tonight? I thought we had this conversation before we left."
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, I think what I walked in on earlier said otherwise," my mother pointed out.
It was hard not to roll my eyes, but I had a feeling that wasn't a good move. "That? Oh, come on. That wasn't anything. There's no need to overreact about it."
"You know, I couldn't believe it when I heard," Dad said. "I thought your mother was joking. I didn't realise that you could be so stupid."
The irritation flickered inside me: a single spark that I had to stop from catching. "Stupid?" I echoed. "Really?"
"Jace Snowdon," Dad said, like I needed reminding. "Jace Snowdon. You do realise he's probably one of the most dangerous people we could associate with right now?"
"Oh, come on. Give me a little more credit than that. I didn't tell him anything."
"That's what you think," he said, which made not rolling my eyes that little bit harder to resist. "People like him are trained to weasel out information without anybody realising. Especially now he's part of BioNeutral. It's way too dangerous."
"I didn't tell him anything," I said again. "I'm not that stupid."
"Then what were you talking about?" Mum's accusing look probably would've caused me to shrink backward, had I not had so much experience with it already. If anyone could consider themselves an expert, it was me – and maybe Nova. "You seemed pretty deep in conversation when I walked in."
My mouth opened, but the comeback I was hoping for couldn't quite make the pace. I could play the entire exchange over in my head like a film, but even unlimited loops weren't enough to find what I was looking for. The entire ten minutes we'd been talking now seemed like some kind of odd dream, tinged with a fuzz that made everything slightly blurry at the edges. Even the image of him felt surreal: the gelled dark hair, glasses thick enough to rival milk bottles, upright posture that was anything but natural.
I wasn't sure why I kept thinking about him. But I did.
"We just..." If there was a right answer to the question, I couldn't find it, and the satisfaction was written all over Mum's face. "We were just talking. Not about anything in particular."
Really, it was the worst explanation I could've given. And this became obvious with one look at them.
"You need to start taking this more seriously," Dad said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure you understand the danger of the whole situation. The fact that there's even a need for an organisation like BioNeutral to exist in the first place... well, that alone should be enough to scare you."
"It does scare me," I told him. "Don't patronise me by making it sound like I haven't got the faintest idea what's going on. I'm not a child."
"Then prove it."
The spark was flickering more insistently now. I was having to curl my fingernails right into the skin of my palm to stop myself from going too far. Even a momentary lapse of control was dangerous – one slip-up, and I could be headed down exactly the same path as before.
"What part of you could think I might even be the slightest bit complacent about this?" I asked indignantly. "This is my entire life we're talking about. You're acting like I'd just throw it away without thinking."
"Well, sometimes that's what we're seeing."
"No, you're not!"
"We're just trying to get you to understand how serious all this is," my mother cut in. "One wrong move, Astrid – that's all it could be to have you ending up like Nova."
All of a sudden, I froze. A sheet of ice had formed over the entire kitchen; I could feel the biting cold against my skin. The atmosphere had dipped well below the wintery temperature outside, and standing somewhere outside the patio doors probably would've been more pleasant. It was the first time I'd heard either of them say Nova's name aloud for two years, and this alone was enough to startle me. Hearing the word in anything other than my own voice was its own trigger.
But this wasn't right. The context in which it was being used was entirely skewed, miles away from the type of acknowledgement I wanted from either of them. This wasn't genuine concern. This, right here, was emotional blackmail – an explicit threat to get me to conform.
A worst-case scenario. The embodiment of what I was supposed to avoid.
Be careful, or else you'll end up like Nova. Wouldn't that be a shame?
Her tone was callous; every note made me feel sick to my stomach. She was talking about her daughter, and yet nobody would think she was anything more than a textbook example. Somebody who'd gone about everything in the wrong way. Somebody who'd taken too many risks, and who was now paying the price for it. Somebody whose actions you wanted to avoid at all costs.
"I can't believe you," was all I managed to force out.
"We're just trying to help you, Astrid. Why is it so hard for you to see that?"
"That's your own daughter you're talking about!" I said, leaving no room to regret the rise in the volume of my voice. "How the hell can you call yourself a mother? The first time I've heard you talk about her for two years, and it's just to scare me into behaving?"
"I just want to make you understand."
"Do you even care about what happened to her?" I was past the realm of staying calm; my voice came out so loud it seemed to bounce off every inch of kitchen tile, so the painful echo hit us over and over again. "I'm starting to wonder if you're even concerned about us with all this BioNeutral stuff. Seems to me like you might just be covering your own tracks."
Mum looked like I'd slapped her in the face. If only it was anywhere near as satisfying. "How dare you."
"Well, it's true," I continued, gesturing wildly. "That's the first time you've mentioned her since she disappeared. The fact that she's not here anymore doesn't even seem to upset you. What else am I supposed to think?"
I was growing steadily more furious, already beyond the point of no return. Pushing any further was inching into the danger zone, but stopping myself seemed impossible. The hours I'd already endured that evening were just adding fuel to the fire. What if the only reason I was under such strict instruction, to do everything in my power to keep under the radar, was for the protection of my parents? After all, it was them who'd gone through with the BioPlus procedure in the first place; the option of a perfectly natural baby had always been available. It was them who'd given into the temptation of surpassing nature, like whatever they could produce wasn't quite enough. My entire being was borne out of a single decision, and I didn't get a choice in the matter.
But that was part of the problem. Whatever I thought, whatever my opinions were about the process... my side was already set in stone. There could be no room for disagreement when I stood as the living embodiment of the BioPlus cause.
I had to calm down. Whether that meant removing myself from the room, or sitting down and succumbing to everything they had to throw at me, I had to do something to dissipate the fury boiling inside me. This was what happened last time. Leave it much longer, and I'd soon be slipping out of control.
Mum looked at me, the lines of her face twisted into something I'd never seen before. "You're completely out of line."
I was out of line. Me, who'd done nothing more sinister than exchange a few words with a boy I bumped into. Me, who showed more than a sliver of concern about the fact her sister had been missing for two years. Me, the one who was only in this mess in the first place because my genes were seen as subpar from day zero.
Me.
And then I snapped.
I could almost hear the click somewhere inside my head, like two neurones joining that never should have touched. My entire field of vision clouded with red, or at least that was what my brain was insisting. The physical reaction was building, sending my every muscle into a shaking frenzy, and I didn't need to look in the mirror to know my eyes were a dead giveaway.
I rounded the breakfast bar, lunging for my mother. Or at least that was what I assumed happened, because everything seemed to black out somewhere in the middle. It was the most plausible explanation once my dad's grip forced me back into reality. He had grabbed both my arms, yanking me back from Mum, whose eyes were widened in pure shock.
In the next few moments of resounding silence, all I could hear were my heaving breaths.
"Harrison." Mum's voice had never sounded more terrified, each shaking note resonating in my ears. "It's happening to her."
I didn't need to ask what she meant; it was obvious enough. But that didn't stop me wrestling against my dad's grip anyway.
"I'm fine. Let go of me."
Before I could do anything else, my arms were forced behind my back, stopping any further struggle. Never before had my dad handled me like this, where fear was keeping him holding on. I wondered how it felt to be so terrified of your daughter that physical force was necessary.
With me totally restrained, Mum felt safe enough to move closer, staring right into my eyes. "They've changed," she said, panicked. "Oh my God, Harrison, they've done exactly the same thing."
"No." Dad's defiant tone was unnaturally close to my ear. "It can't be."
"Do you want to stop talking about me like I'm not even here?" I yelled, angrier than necessary. It wasn't exactly helping my case for being let go, but I couldn't help it. "Tell me what's going on."
It was like they couldn't even hear me; their gazes didn't break from each other, fragments glued together by sheer panic. "Look at her eyes," Mum whispered. "It's just like before."
I wasn't expecting Dad to twist me toward him so suddenly, and the movement sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder. Some of my hair had got caught in his grip, and it hurt to move my head too far, which only made me feel more trapped. I refused to meet his gaze, but his face ended up so close to mine I could feel his breath on my cheek, and he got enough of a look at my eyes anyway.
Though he didn't say anything, the silence spoke louder than any answer.
When I managed to move my head, Mum was still looking at him with a fixation that also hinted being scared to look anywhere in my direction. "What are we going to do?" she asked shakily.
"I think there's only one thing we can do."
"Again," I cut in. "I'm right here. Do you want to start speaking like I'm actually in the room?"
"You think we should take her in?"
"I don't think we've got a choice." I felt his grip on my wrists loosen, like he was finally permitting me some wiggle room. Maybe this was all I'd earned. "If anybody will have answers, it'll be BioPlus."
***
OXFORD RESIDENCE: MAIN PHONE
VOICEMAIL MESSAGE (1) OF (2): RECEIVED 04:46A.M.
"Harrison? It's Patrick. Patrick Glover. I'm sorry I missed your call earlier. It came as a bit of a shock. You see, I suppose maybe it didn't get back to you, but I don't... I don't work for BioPlus anymore. A few things went on, and, well, I thought it might be better for my health if I moved away from the city. I've been here for a few years now, and it's a lot calmer than I'm used to. As for your concern – I think it might be best if you took it to HQ. There should be somebody there you can speak to. Just... not me. Sorry."
OXFORD RESIDENCE: MAIN PHONE
VOICEMAIL MESSAGE (2) OF (2): RECEIVED 4:52A.M.
"It's me again. I hate to be so abrupt, but... I was thinking. It's probably best if you don't contact me about this anymore. I need to be on the safe side – you know, for my health. Sorry. Best of luck – with everything."