Page 33 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he says, chuckling. “But I can fix that. I can fix you, Sadie. I can take the parts they own and set them free. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Maybe you’re just one more really bad guy and I should leave all of you behind and find my own way in the world.”

“That’s one option, for sure. But if you stick it out with me we can rip the world apart and put it back together. Make it new, Sadie. Make it ours.”

“You realize you sound like a madman, right? This calm demeanor isn’t fooling me one bit.”

“I’m quite mad, yes. But not any more than the people who control you.”

“I’m not on your side,” I say.

“You can be on your own side. What a novel idea, right?”

“Why were you in that hospital?” I ask. There’s something really wrong with this man. Really wrong.

“They… compromised me. A few months back. When the cell towers were blown up. I have a unique body chemistry that requires careful manipulation.”

“Your mentalist capabilities?”

“Exactly. But they compromised my friends. One of them shot me with a drug that disrupted my brain chemistry. I went… a little mad. And then they had me locked up. It was the perfect opportunity for them to try to get the upper hand.”

“Who?” I ask. “Who did all this?”

“Yasmine, I think. But I’m not sure.”

“The doctor?”

“Her. And others I haven’t identified yet. You see, there are two sides to this story. Us and them. But both sides are trying to do the same thing. Albeit for very different reasons.”

“Why do you want me?”

“Because you’re special, Sadie. So obviously special.” His hand comes up to my cheek, petting it. The way he—whoever—was petting my hair last night. It was him. I’m sure of it. Thomas Brooks drugged me and touched me, then tried to pass it off as a nightmare.

“Don’t,” I say, slapping his hand away. “Don’t do that. I know what you did.”

He pulls his hand back. Chastised. “I’m just trying to give you options.”

“By taking off all my clothes and tying me up? By… violating me?”

“What?” He laughs. This time the smile is different. Real. Not on the verge of diabolic. “I didn’t tie you up. When the fuck would I have done that? You were sleeping for twelve hours.”

“While I was sleeping,” I say, angry at his manipulation. “You touched me.”

His eyebrows knit together as he squints at me. “Touched you… where?”

Asshole.

But I stay silent. I’m not going to describe what happened last night and give him a thrill. I refuse.

“It was a nightmare, Sadie. I’m sure those things probably did happen at some point in our past, but I wasn’t the one who did them.”

Could it be true? I have no idea. Was it him? Was it just a sad, lost memory floating to the surface under trauma?

The fact that I’m considering this—that I’m so confused about it—leads me to believe him when he says the Prodigy people are cruel and mean. I know that, just as I know the few other things about myself without actually remembering them.

Could my experience have happened in my head last night, and nowhere else? Am I nothing more than the residual effects of my life that came before Thomas?

I decide to change the subject. “Why was I at the hospital?”