Mortal - Chapter 15

Premise: In this young-adult dystopian novel, people can no longer die. But they still feel pain, and suffer--and it's maddening. Because of the chaos that ensued, the US Government created a program to figure out how to kill people. When Garrett, a teenager, falls into a coma for weeks as a result of an experiment, the Program sets its malicious sights on him.

This is the fifteenth chapter of the novel, Mortal. Click here for the beginning of the story.

The hot water is searing as it runs down my body and drags the crusted blood with it down the drain. Hot water…has there ever been such a thing? A creation of pleasure and comfort, and not of pain? I press my hands against the tiled wall, inclining my head to the shower of water. I finally remember that there did use to be hot showers…when I was younger, before my parents went insane when we could afford it.

Bern instructed me to clean myself off and get some rest before I tell Project Eden’s secrets to Edward Gild. He was certainly upset about the wait. Gild’s reaction to Bern was a combination of begging and threatening, but eventually he agreed.

Edward wants me to live here in the magazine’s building. He doesn’t want to risk me going to his loft every night. He had the shower installed for the all-nighters before publication deadlines, and the couch in the upper lobby is a pull-out bed. Before I went off to the shower, he sent Lucy to the store to get necessary supplies for my comfort. I knew Edward would take good care of his story.

I shut the water off with a reluctant jerk of my hand, and step out of shower, grabbing the fresh towel off the rack and drying myself. It’s been the first time in a while that I actually feel…clean. I search the clothes on the counter that Edward lent me. Most of his clothing consists of suits, so I pick the t-shirt and sweats that are suppose to act as his pajamas. The pants are a little long, and the shirt is too big for my apparently starved body—that didn’t occur to me before until I saw the outline of ribs in my flesh—but I know it doesn’t matter. I know I am certainly not going anywhere, and these clothes are not much different from my Eden ones, anyway.

I flinch away from my reflection, not wanting to relive past torments through my face and leave the bathroom, heading back to the lobby.

Bern sits in one of the chairs. He peers through the cracks in the blinds and through the window. His whole body is rigid, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. Is he worried that he’ll be punished for helping me? I shake my head. That doesn’t seem right. He joined Gild’s magazine, he knew what he was getting himself into.

I can’t stand the thought of silence at a time like this so I clear my throat, and his dark eyes shift to me, and I ask, “Where’s Gild and Lucy?”

Bern rubs his nose, “I sent them home. I told Gild he could question you in the morning.”

“And you were successful?” I raise an eyebrow.

He laughs dryly, “Successful enough.”

I smile slightly and take a seat opposite of him. I look through the blinds and notice that it’s night— the sky is dark, but the buildings below it are bright with light.

“Here,” Bern says, and he pushes a glass of water across the coffee table towards me. He holds out his fist, and I give him my hand as he drops a small pill in my hand. My whole body tenses as I look up at him, wary. I’ve learned from countless experiences to never trust medication of any sort.

Bern raises his eyebrows at me, “It’s just a painkiller…not poison.”

I have no reason to doubt Bern, but I also had no reason to doubt the old lady on the train. I move my hand, and the pill slips between my fingers, bouncing against the table. “I’m fine,” I say.

“Alright,” he sighs, leaning against the back of his chair, “It will still be there if you change your mind.”

I won’t.

I rest my elbows on my knees and ask, “Why are you still here?” I frown when I realize I must have sounded irritated. I’m not sure how I feel about this doctor, or if I will ever change my mind about him. He’s tried to kill people, just like the scientists at Eden, but is it different if the patients approved? I’m not sure if it is.

“Just making sure you’re settled,” he raises his hands in surrender, “I’m not your enemy.” He watches me hesitantly, and my chest tightens at his expression. It is the same expression the doctors wore when my mentality snapped.

Bern reaches towards the corner of the room and pulls out a plastic bag and hands it to me. Inside are a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb… I look back up at him.

“Lucy brought that over a few minutes before you came out,” he says, “She didn’t know your sizes, so if we need to, I’m sure we can figure out some clothing later.”

I nod slowly, and Bern rises from his seat. “In the conference room, there’s food in the fridge,” Bern stuffs his hand in his pockets, “Have whatever you want.”

I press my hand into my face as he heads for the elevator, but he suddenly stops and turns to face me again. “Don’t feel like you have to do it,” he says to me.

I know that he is talking about telling Gild everything I know about Project Eden. I glare at him, clenching my fists. “Just how you felt you had to try to kill all those people?” My stomach tightens as I begin to see the prominent similarities of him and the Eden scientists. And the Secretary.

Bern blinks at me. I can see the muscles in his arms tensing. “Look, I obviously don’t know anything about Project Eden, but the last thing you want is to feel like you have to share something that—“

“Yes, you obviously don’t know a thing about Eden, or you would know how disgusted I am with you! What makes you think you have the right to murder someone?” I cock my head at him. “Oh, is it their permission? Do you think that means anything anymore when everyone’s lost their minds?” I am wondering if I have too.

His eyes are cold now, and I can see his temple pulse. It looks like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him, “You don’t think I should feel like I have to do this? They try to kill dozens of people every day! I was tortured for months!” I swallow hard, trying to push back the lump forming in the hollow of my neck, “And people are still being tortured. So yes, Bern, I have to do this.”

Bern takes a few steps towards me, his face stony. “Garrett…” his voice trails and he returns to his seat uneasily. “I had no idea.”

I look to my shoes, thankful he didn’t apologize. That should be me. I clench down hard on my teeth. I am afraid that I am losing myself to this pain, and begin to wonder if I ever had myself in the first place. Is it understandable that I should act this way with what I’ve been through? I don’t know, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “I’m sorry, Bern…I don’t know why—“

“Garrett, it’s fine,” he says with a slight smile, “It’s obvious you’ve been through a lot. But the point is, you need to think about yourself first, that’s what I meant. I was thinking about others when patients of mine asked me to help them, and I ended up losing my medical license. And these guys seem a lot more frightening than a medical board.”

I frown, “I can’t think of myself when people, my friends, are suffering. This is the only way I know how to save them.”

He smiles at me, and it only makes me feel worse. “You do what you have to,” he says and he gets up from his chair, “I just wanted to let you know, you have other choices. And I don’t want Edward Gild to take advantage of you.”

I nod, “Thank you.”

“Get some rest, Garrett.” He leaves.

I stand up and walk over to the couch before I fall on top of it, not bothering to turn it into a bed, and not bothering to think anymore.

Though it is difficult to ignore the pain. I believe I have mistaken the throb in my stomach as my heart beat, and images of Therese and Abel never wander far from my mind. I’m helping them. I am. It’s hard to agree when I realize where they are, and where they will always be if I fail. Where I’ll be.

I turn on my side, digging the leather of couch into my wound. I settle on that pain, for it is much easier to bear, and I soon slip into a haze.

She’s here. With the black tears, and the tangled dark hair. She stares at me with quivering eyes. Her back is hunched and she looks like a cornered animal. There’s a twinge of pity in my gut as I watch her…until I see the gun that she holds with her limp arm.

“Do…do you know who I am?” she asks like she’s nervous.

I don’t respond, and I can’t seem to lift my gaze to her face, and away from the gun. But I do manage to lift my eyes slightly, high enough to see the tattoo on her wrist.

The girl of my mares is a Corpse.

The gun rises in her grip, and I follow it with my eyes, up to her face, and her back straightens. I see her shake her head, “You never did…”

The sound of thunder throws me awake.

I slide off the couch and turn on the floor lamp near the elevator. I have to blink rapidly to adjust to the light. The girl with the gun worked for VitCorp. But how do I know if this girl is even real? I don’t think there’s any way to find out…besides finding out. And even if she doesn’t exist I can’t shake off the coincidence of running into the Corpse yesterday—it’s about two in the morning right now—and can’t help but feel like something is wrong.

It’s a good thing Edward Gild has so many connections.

Thank you so much for reading! I'll see you soon! xoxo, Liv