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I collapse back in the chair, hoping for Doc to protest, but we both know it’s true. There’s not much room for art on Godspeed; I’m superfluous at best. People like Kayleigh or Luthor will be able to find a productive way to contribute to the ship. People like me or Bartie will be able to do nothing more than provide some amusement for the real workers.

Luthor’s more important than me, because his skills can aid the ship. A song is nothing compared to productivity.

I laugh, a bitter, cracked sound damaged by Luthor’s chokehold on me last night.

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sp; I can’t even sing, not now. One day—soon, if Doc’s right—my vocal chords will heal.

But could I ever really sing again? If Luthor says I can only ever sing for him, and he can do whatever he wants on this ship that values people based on what labor or skills they can provide, dare I ever make music?

“I ’ll start Luthor on hormone suppressants, ” Doc says in the silence. “That should stop his . . . urges. ”

But not his hands, his big, strong hands that choked the sound out of me, that popped the head off his sculpture, that held the razor-sharp scalpels he used to carve into clay, that he could use to carve into me.

8.

“ We’ll protect you,” Victria says. Kayleigh, sitting on my bed, nods her head. “If Doc won’t protect you, we will. ”

“ What can you do?” I ask with a feeble laugh.

Kayleigh and Victria exchange glances. “The boys will help,” Kayleigh says. “Harley and Bartie. ”

“They don’t know me that well. ”

“They’ll still help. ”

I can see it now: a lifetime where I’m always watched by at least one of them. Before, I had thought of Kayleigh as a sometime friend and Victria as an occasional companion. Harley and Bartie were always in the background of my mind. But I know—I can see it in the earnest looks both girls are giving me—that here is a chance for me to become something more to them all.

Not friend. Ward.

“I can’t ask that of you, of any of you,” I say.

Victria shakes her head. “We can’t let that happen to you again. ”

She looks at my neck, but she can’t see the wounds I’ve hidden behind my clothes.

“You can’t protect me all day, every day. ”

“You can move into my room,” Kayleigh says.

“ Or mine,” Victria adds.

I stare out the window.

“ Selene?” Kayleigh asks. Something in her voice draws my attention to her. “You forgot to take your pill,” she says. She holds out the little blue-and-white capsule that holds the drugs that keep me conscious, aware of the world.

I hadn’t forgotten it.

“ Silly me,” I mutter, taking the pill. Kayleigh watches me carefully as I put it on my tongue and pretend to swallow.

But I don’t.

After a while, I plead a headache, and the two girls leave. They don’t go far; I can hear them talking, guarding my room. They shout at Luthor when he gets too close; I can hear him denying their accusations, their voices raising until Doc comes out and silences everyone.

I spit the blue-and-white pill out of my mouth and into the toilet, then flush it away.

Kayleigh said the pills made you nothing, and nothing seems like a pretty good thing to be right now.

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