"What happened?" Boze asked as she rushed into the infirmary, pulling on her jacket.
Boze had woken up to a notification on her phone, simply reading Atomic is hurt. She'd barely given herself enough time to get dressed before rushing to the infirmary, her heart pounding, hating how vague the message was. Was she seriously hurt or barely injured? There was no way for her to tell without seeing Atomic for herself.
"We don't know," Medic replied. "Raven found her on the floor of the bathroom this morning, clutching her hand. From the looks of it, she punched the mirror, though we don't know why."
The infirmary was probably the most touched-up room in the Compound. The walls had been painted white, and cabinets had been installed for holding medicine and medical equipment. A table surrounded by chairs sat in the middle of the room, with laptops strewn on its surface. Labcoats hung on hooks on the wall, though they weren't needed anymore; Mercy and Transfusion had been killed by Blade. Medic was the only one left.
Separating the room into two was a large wall made of one-way glass. Opposite the side Boze was standing was the patient area, with a hospital bed lying under a heavy light. Sitting on that bed was Atomic, her right hand wrapped in blood-soaked gauze that she kept picking at. Boze's breath hitched at the sight of her.
"Is it safe to see her?" she asked.
Medic tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. "She hasn't been displaying any violent tendencies, so I don't see a reason why not."
Boze grabbed a set of keys off the table and ran to the door, opening it quickly. Atomic looked up as she came in and sat next to her on the bed.
"Hey, are you okay?" Boze asked worriedly. Self-harm wasn't a good sign. She wanted Atomic dead, sure, but not if it killed Mari too.
"Yeah," Atomic sighed. "Just... tired."
"Why'd you do this?" she grabbed Atomic's wrist and examined her wound. The gauze was wrapped securely around her knuckles, but not so much that she couldn't move her fingers. Her skin was peppered with small bleeding scabs, no doubt from Medic pulling out small shards of glass that had embedded themselves in her skin.
"I got angry," Atomic replied. "At my reflection. So I punched it."
"What was wrong with your reflection?" Boze asked.
In response, Atomic pulled back her hair, giving Boze a good look at the burn marks on the side of her forehead. "I can't remember how I got these. I keep trying to, but I can't."
Boze reached out and stroked her skin. She couldn't tell her the truth, of course; she'd never accept it. At least, not yet.
"Do you know who did this to me?" she asked, sounding desperate.
"No," Boze lied. "I'm sorry, I don't."
Mari let her hair fall back into place with a sigh. "I feel like it has something to do with my memory loss."
"Memory loss?" Boze prodded. That was a good sign. If Atomic was doubting her history, then she could take advantage of that. "What do you mean?"
"There are gaps in my memory," Atomic explained. "Big ones. Important dates that I can't remember. I didn't even remember my best friend until recently, and aspects of my relationship with Silver... they're missing. A lot is missing, and I don't know how to get it back. That's why I punched the mirror. I'm confused, and that makes me angry."
Boze smiled and patted her back. The way Atomic had just spoken was unlike her. Was Mari already starting to slip back in? She sure hoped so. "I'm sure that they'll come back."
"I'm not," Atomic replied. "I don't think they ever will."
"Only time will tell," Boze stood up. "Tell Wrath that I give you permission to sit out of training today. Medic will give you some painkillers."
"Okay," Atomic sighed, pulling her hair over her left shoulder with her good hand. "Thank you."
"Don't hurt yourself again, okay?" Boze asked her. "Silver wouldn't have wanted you to. Promise me that you won't."
"I know he wouldn't have," Atomic paused. "I promise."
"Good," Boze kissed her forehead. "Take care of yourself, Atomic."
"I will," Atomic replied. Boze smiled at her one last time before going back into the main room. Medic was waiting for her, writing furiously on her clipboard. There was a microphone in the patient room; she'd probably been listening in, recording observations of their conversation. Medic only had training in physical medicine, but she was anxious to learn more. Boze had seen psychology books on her bed.
They said their goodbyes before Boze headed back to her room, giddy. She hadn't expected to get this far along yet. If Atomic was already doubting herself to the point of self-harm, then things were working out perfectly. The next step might go over even better than Boze thought it would.
But that was later. Right now, she wanted to get some more sleep. Leading a girl-gang with 856 members wasn't easy work. There were two hours left before breakfast, and she'd be damned if she didn't get her well deserved rest.
• • •
She spent most of the day talking to Poison and Antidote, fine-tuning the details of their alliance and the mission that would commence two days from now. Thankfully, they were nothing like Silver, and were actually enjoyable to work with.
Honestly, she could see why Isabelle Lynn cheated on him. If she had been his girlfriend, she would've been looking for other options too. That man had been insufferable.
After dinner, she tracked down Mayhem. The black-haired woman had been sitting with her friends, most of whom were also in delivery. Most of her girls hung out with their co-workers. You'd only rarely ever see a brawler sitting with a bloodhound.
Before she had the chance to follow the group to the game room, Boze had pulled her aside. "Mayhem, I need to talk to you."
"Oh, okay," she'd replied, pulling some of her hair away from her face and shooting her boss a friendly smile. "Is it about Atomic?"
"Indirectly," Boze responded. "Come with me."
She took Mayhem back up to her room and let her in. Boze sat in her rollable chair and moved so she'd be opposite her guest, who was sitting on her bed, seeing as there was only one chair in the room.
Normally, she would've used the meeting room, but this was a conversation that she didn't want any of her girls overhearing. She poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to Mayhem, who took it.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" Mayhem asked, crossing her legs.
"Well, it's more of a favour, really," Boze replied, leaning back into her chair. "I need you to do something for me."
"I'll do anything," Mayhem took a sip of her wine, bring her legs up onto the bed so she was sitting sideways. She really was beautiful, which was annoyingly distracting at the moment.
Boze pulled out her cell phone and dropped it on Mayhem's lap. "I need you to call your brother."
Mayhem almost spat out her wine.
There were a few seconds where Mayhem coughed wildly, bending over and bringing her hand to her mouth. In order to stop herself from spitting wine all over Boze's bed and floor, she'd had to swallow it, and it seemed like a fair portion had gone down her windpipe. Boze drank some of her wine as she watched.
Eventually, Mayhem composed herself and sat up straight. Boze could hear her breaths, which were heavy and frantic with panic. "I don't have a brother."
"Are you seriously going to try and lie to me?" Boze sighed. Mayhem had been with her for three years; she should know that Boze knew everything about her girls by now. "I know who you are, Mayhem. You have a brother and a sister, your parents are divorced, you grew up in Texas... do I have to go on?"
"We aren't... we aren't on speaking terms," she muttered, placing her wine on the floor to stop it spilling from how much her hand was shaking. There was a panicked look in her eyes, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Are you sure about that?" Boze asked, grinning. "Because last time I checked, he's been trying to make contact with you for the past five years."
"He thinks- he thinks I'm dead!" Mayhem sputtered. "My entire family does! Half of them are happy about it! I carefully planned it that way! They're from my past life; my life before you, before this. I don't want to go back to it."
"I'm not asking you too," Boze replied nonchalantly with a shrug, as if they were talking about the weather. "I'm asking you to help me out."
"He won't come unless he's guaranteed that he'll get to talk to me," Mayhem cried. "And then he'll know where I am, and he'll get our sister and parents, and then they'll all come crashing back into my life when I don't want them too!"
"We'll have a transportation girl take him in a windowless jet, here and back," Boze assured her. "He won't know where you are."
"How many abandoned malls are there in L.A?" Mayhem asked. "He's not an idiot. He'll figure it out!"
"Why would he know that he was in L.A?" Boze raised an eyebrow.
"He lives here!" Mayhem argued.
"Your brother hasn't lived here for the past three months," Boze replied. "He moved back to Texas, which was why it was such a hassle to get him the first time."
"Please, Vixen," there were tears in her eyes now. "Please don't make me."
"You said you'd do anything," Boze replied as she took a sip of her wine.
"Not this," Mayhem stood up and placed the phone on the bed. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."
She started making her way to the door, almost tripping over herself in the process, tears splashing onto the ground in front of her. Boze finished her wine.
"Whitney," she demanded, her voice low and dark. "Call. Your. Brother."
Mayhem stopped in her tracks, looking like Boze had slapped her. She might as well have. Here, using someone's birth name without their consent was the biggest insult you could throw their way. Girls had killed each other over it before.
And with the tone she used, Mayhem instantly got the message. The black-haired girl turned and started walking back towards her, shaking. When Boze handed her the phone, she almost dropped it.
She sat down on the bed and hugged herself, her fingers hovering over the screen. "I don't know his number."
"Yes you do," Boze replied, seeing through her act. "He hasn't changed his SIM card."
Mayhem took a deep breath and started typing the numbers, painfully slowly. Once she was done, she started wiping some of her tears off her face, but it was no use. There was no way she was going to be able to stop herself from crying now.
"Put him on speaker," Boze instructed. Mayhem nodded and pressed the button.
For a few seconds, all you could hear in the room was the sound of ringing, echoing off the walls. He didn't have a voicemail recorded, so they were soon met with the automatic voice of a woman telling them to leave a message. Mayhem looked relieved, as if she thought this was an excuse to get out of the situation.
"Call him again," Boze demanded, wiping Mayhem's smile straight off her face.
Mayhem did as instructed. This time, he picked up. "Who is this?"
His voice was staticky, but Boze could still recognize it, from the time she'd heard him scream in the back of her truck; and from the way that Mayhem's face paled, she knew that she recognized it too. She brought the phone up to her mouth, her expression clearly telling Boze that she'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Eugene?" her voice cracked. "It's- it's Whitney."