I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. All words, all breath have abandoned me. I can only stare, wide-eyed, as the man who I was tortured and maimed by grins at me cynically.
"What is it, Elizabeth?" Hatchman asks, mocking concern. "Do you not think it rude to stare at someone you haven't seen in a while like that?"
"You should be dead," I hiss, lip curling into a snarl.
"Is that what you thought?" he sneers back. Then his hand connects with my cheek. "Well, you were wrong, girl. I am here, I am very much alive."
My cheek stings and I will away the tears that instinctively urge to fill my eyes. "You must think of yourself as very noble, hitting a girl who cannot defend herself."
"Are you wondering how I'm alive, Elizabeth?" he completely ignores my jibe.
"I have many questions, Hatchman," I retort. "Your involvement with the Red Movement being one of them."
Hatchman flashes me his signature sardonic grin. "What do you wish to know about it, Elizabeth?"
"I think you know." My eyes narrow. "How long have you been with them?"
Usually, his grin would broaden further. But this time, it does the exact opposite and drops entirely. My palms begin to sweat as the sudden change in character from him fairly unnerves me.
"Longer than you ever possibly thought." Hatchman pauses, the corner of his lip twitches. "We are not all that different, Elizabeth, you and I."
My hands clench into fists so tightly that the too-long fingernails dig into the flesh of my palms. "We are nothing alike," I spit, fighting the trembling anger that quickly surges up my throat.
Hatchman simply shakes his head. Then, to my surprise, he presses a button on the wall above my head and with a sharp click, the metal restraints holding me in place lift away. Bewildered, I can only lay there, trying to process the seemingly significant action that Hatchman is scarcely batting an eyelash to.
"Well, sit up," he snaps suddenly. Bristling indignantly, I push myself up and stretch out my stiff limbs, relishing the feeling of blood flowing more freely around my body.
"Would you like to know the true reason I am so determined to find the cure for the Drown, Elizabeth?" Hatchman asks. He peers at me intently through his icy eyes, studying my reactions carefully.
The question leaves me momentarily shaken. A question was asked to me in a very similar way by Lord Sneya so many months ago when he asked if I wanted to know some of his secrets. "Would you like to know some of my secrets, Elizabeth?" he had said. Instead of icy eyes, it was green eyes. Like Ruben's.
"I suppose you are not going to give me much of a choice in reality, right, Hatchman?"
"Brooker."
"Sorry?"
"Brooker," he says. "Nicholas Brooker."
I gape at him until I realise how wide my mouth is hanging and snap it shut. "Oh my God."
"My name is Nicholas Brooker."
"Oh my God," I say again. It feels as though the room has suddenly gotten smaller. I gasp. "Brooker. Are you related to my friend Killian Brooker?"
His eyes widen and his jaw tightens. "Yes. He is my nephew."
"What?"
"That's right. His mother is my sister," Hatchman begins, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "When we were in our late teens, she 17 and myself 19, our mother and father both contracted the disease, the Drown. At the time, it was not Arthur Sneya who ruled the Floodgates, but his father Amos Sneya. He was a man who was deeply focused on keeping the Concaves alive whilst simultaneously pretending to everyone that the disease had been completely eradicated of. He pretended that it was no longer a threat, even though there was still the rumour of it in the River. He gave the disease no chances, and anyone who contracted the disease wasn't given any chance as well. He swiftly, mercilessly banished my parents from the Floodgates."
Hatchman pauses and tilts his head to the side, regarding me. "See? We are not so different after all."
I don't respond. I simply continue to stare, waiting for him to go on.
"It was my sister, Killian's mother, who wanted revenge for the injustice. She wanted to find a cure. But I was too afraid, too quiet. Despite my protests, Eleanor, already a very clever science student at her school, began to research a cure for the disease. She was up at all hours, tenaciously doing everything to learn about the virus, and how to stop it. She was at it for years, at least three. There was a time when she was getting somewhere with her research. It was around that time that I met her. Lillian. You see, when I went to school, I was nobody, invisible. I never spoke and no one paid me any notice, ever. But she was different. She saw me. Soon after she began talking to me, we became friends. 'You do not always have to hide, Nicholas' she would say. 'You can be seen.' She had red hair, like yours."
Hatchman shifts in his seat as he says the last part, as though he could possibly be nervous.
"Two terrible things happened in the space of a week, one week in the summer that was nearing Arthur's crowning. The first, one of Eleanor's classmates caught her in the midst of research, they tattled on her and not long after, Amos found out. She was executed. Shot in front of the Concaves, treated as a traitor. Her son, Killian, had only been born days before."
My hand flies to my mouth. "Holy shit." I think of Killian. He never got to know his mother.
"Later that week Lillian started coughing. She became sick. I refused to report her, as you were supposed to. I desperately tried looking through Eleanor's research to see if there was anything I could do, anything. But of course, there was nothing. I watched as the disease overtook my beautiful Lillian. I could do nothing as her lungs were destroyed by the virus and she drowned in her own blood."
That is the first moment ever that I see a slither of Hatchman's humanity slip through. How? This man has the capability to torture and humiliate a girl, and yet, he had such a terrible, terrible past. He was once filled with love but his past destroyed it as the ones he cared for most were taken away from him.
"When they found her body, they knew that I had not reported her," Hatchman continues, interrupting my thoughts. "The very next day, I, too, was banished from the Floodgates."
He pauses again, allowing those words to sink in.
"Many people who are banished soon perish. But not me. I refused. I made it across the lake and started walking. And I didn't stop, I didn't look back. I wanted nothing more than to avenge the deaths of all those I loved. That was when I swore that one day I would find a cure for the Drown. And I was going to use any means to do so. When I stumbled across the Red Movement building, I was more than willing to be given the opportunity to do just that. I changed my name, stripped away as much of Nicholas Brooker and channelled all my anger and grief into finding the cure. I was soon implanted back into the Floodgates, not long after Arthur was crowned the new Lord. My job was to work closely to Sneya, to seek out the Red Leaves, like yourself. You, Elizabeth, were the first immune. You were the first Red Leaf that I had ever found in all those years of searching. That is how rare you are."
"But I thought that Sneya came up with the nickname for me, did he not?"
"He thought he did. I only prompted him with the idea," Hatchman grins, at last appearing like himself again.
I am silent for a while, allowing all that Hatchman said to wash over me, to sink into my pores. "I suppose it makes sense," I muse, at last. "Every cruel, horrible thing you have done, Hatchman, did, in fact, have a very human explanation. Not that it is any excuse."
He opens his mouth to respond but I don't give him the chance to speak.
"Your hatred for Ruben also makes sense. He is the descendant of the man who brought you so much pain."
Again, whatever Hatchman was going to say is interrupted. Edward Mallory walks back into the room, the scar over his eye appears more prominent in the bright lighting. He is followed closely by two burly guards.
"Have you two had a good catch up?" Edward grins, eyes staring into my own.
"What do you want, Edward?" I ask, fairly disgusted by his presence.
"I need to teach you a little lesson, Elizabeth," he says. "All I ask is that you comply with me. Do you think you can do that?"
My muscles immediately tense, hands clenching into fists again. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"See, I do not like it when my subjects betray me by trying to leave my complex. Therefore, I must take measures to ensure that they do not disobey me again."
At once, I glance frantically around the room, desperately trying to scope out an escape. There are no windows. The only exit is the one directly behind Edward and the two guards. I know it is fruitless. I know I will fail. But damn me if I will not try with every bit of strength I have. I jump to my feet and throw myself forward. The guards must have expected this; however, it still takes them a few precious moments for their reflexes to catch up with me. I manage to elbow Edward in the ribs and skirt past the guards. I fling the door open and leap into the hallway.
"For God's sake, chase her!" Edward growls, the sound echoing after me, urging me onwards.
Nurses and scientists throw themselves against the walls, spurred to the side by my desperation. I must look a wild mess: hair flying around my face, dressed in only a thin gown and barefoot.
All at once, I hear shouts behind me, heavy boots slapping against the linoleum floor as the guards begin the chase. Instinctively, I push my legs harder, faster. I skid around corners and tear down corridors. I do not know where I am going, only that I must get away, that I must get out. The doors to the cafeteria suddenly appear in front of me and I throw them open. My abrupt entrance sends heads turning in my direction. But I ignore them. I run onwards, desperate to get to the other side. I do not even weave my way through the tables, instead, I leap on top of them, jumping from table top to table top.
"Someone stop her!"
I can hear the guards gaining on me. But I am close to the doors on the other side of the cafeteria. If only I can just reach it. A pair of hands suddenly grabs my ankles, yanking me sharply from the table. I crash down, head scarcely missing the corner of a seat as I hit the floor. More hands grab at me and I thrash and writhe, determined to make this as difficult as possible. But I am only one person against two large men, and now, they have the upper-hand. I am dragged, kicking and screaming, back to the cafeteria and through the hallways that I came. When we reach the room again, Edward is still there. He is clutching his side where my elbow got him, nursing the bruise that I no doubt will have given him. Good. Hatchman is still there too. He sits passively on the seat where he was before, watching silently as I am hauled into the room and pressed back onto the bench. The cold, metal restraints are snapped down and I can no longer move.
"Fuck you," I hiss, still determined to put up a fight.
"Nice try, Elizabeth," Edward muses. He then busies himself at the bench on the other side of the room. He comes back moments later with an object that looks suspiciously like a small gun.
"This will implant the tracking device in your neck," Edward explains, holding the object up for me to see. My skin crawls. "From your dramatic performance of moments previous, the need for this is imperative."
Edward then proceeds to place a small round, marble-like object in the gun. The tracker. He pulls the safety off and loads the tracker into the barrel. Initially, I think that he is going to implant it into my arm or my ankle. But then, Edward presses the barrel of the small gun to the side of my neck. At once panic surges through me and I work up a wad of saliva and spit it into his face. He gasps, barking out a curse. He angrily wipes it away with a cloth.
"That was not clever, Elizabeth," Edward snaps.
Then there is a horrible click, followed by a searing pain in the side of my neck. I cry out as the tracker embeds itself into my flesh, the pain seemingly spreading in all directions. Gritting my teeth, I determinedly focus on steadying my breathing.
"There," Edwards says. "Now, you can be tracked. Everything you do, I will know about. Every time you eat, sleep, speak, I will be able to see it. You are completely, irrevocably mine."
****
Thank you so much for reading! I did struggle a lot with this chapter, but I did really enjoy writing it once I finally got into it. So I do hope you liked it too! Let me know what you think :3
~ Emma