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“The reprograming makes her like you.”
Her mouth falls open. Prior experience with her type tells me she’s offended. I have to make a quick recovery. But not too quick. “Is that so bad?”
“No. Not at all,” I promise like a confession. “Unless you’re wanting millennials to join the church.” I take a deep breath and hold it. This is going to hurt. Logic often does. “When is the last time you wanted to be like your parents?”
Her eyes narrow. “Um, never.”
“According to my research, the last thing millennials want is to be like the generation that came before. Which means we have to lure them in with something different. Melanie is different. Before we change her, we should use her.”
I watch as she does a double-take. People often first balk at solutions before they accept them. “Well, it certainly seems to have worked on you, hasn’t it?”
“Just talk to Mark about it, would you? See what he thinks.”
I know Beth will never let on that a good idea wasn’t hers.
“I will,” she promises. I open the car door for her. Once she’s in, she pauses and looks up at me. “In the meantime, you have any other grand ideas?”
“Nope,” I force a smile. “Now that we know how to increase the numbers, I’m fresh out.”
Chapter Seventeen
Melanie
Mrs. Elizabeth assures me I didn’t kill Vanessa. And yet, I haven’t seen her, so there’s really no proof. I haven’t killed anyone before, but I’ve not ruled it out either. Interestingly enough, this religion, if that’s what you want to call it, allows for it in their doctrine. Never fear harming another with just cause.
They won’t let us room together. I asked. Which is a good thing probably. I’m afraid I would rectify the situation. Given the chance, I might murder Vanessa with my own bare hands for what she made me do. In fact, I’ve been busy contemplating the ways I might go about it. In here t
here’s not much else to do but think.
If only she wouldn’t have been so self-sacrificing.
There’s pleasure in being taken beyond our limits. That’s what Mrs. Elizabeth says. Maybe Vanessa already knows this. Whatever the case, without a doubt, I know she knew the answers to those questions.
She wanted to make me suffer.
She wanted to test my limits.
Sure, I could waste my abundance of time asking myself why. But I don’t care enough for that. People do what they do. Everyone else spends so much time on the cause. They want a motive. They want answers. Pick any of the twelve billion news outlets and tune in. All they talk about is why. Name the latest tragedy and watch how much time they spend dissecting it. It’s insane. But it’s simple: sometimes people do bad things because it makes them feel good. Sometimes they do them to make themselves feel better. Sometimes they are just plain evil. It’s not rocket science. Too many people believe that just because they’re good, everyone else is.
But that’s not the way the world works. There’s too much history to prove otherwise.
People forget how good humans are at rationalizing their behavior.
I may be young by some standards, but I’ve seen enough to know. The real horrors of this world are other people.
To prove a point, after the shock therapy, I was given an assignment to write a letter to someone to show the pain I have caused. I could have chosen Tom. But he’s the one who put me in this place, and I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable where he is concerned. So, I chose my parents instead. I will be in need of a place to go once they let me out of here.
* * *
Dear Mother and Dad: Since you forced me from the nest, I have been remiss in writing, and I am sorry for my thoughtlessness in not having written sooner. I will bring you up to date now, but before you read on, please sit down. You are not to read any further unless you are sitting down, okay?
* * *
Well, then, I am getting along pretty well now. The skull fracture and the horrible burns I sustained when I jumped out of the window of my hotel when it caught on fire shortly after my arrival are pretty well healed. I only spent two weeks in the hospital, my vision has almost returned to normal, and thankfully, I’m only getting those terrible headaches once a day.
* * *
Fortunately, the fire in the hotel and my jump was witnessed by a man on the street near the hotel, and he was the one who called 9-1-1. He visited me in the hospital, and since I had nowhere to live because of the burned-out hotel, he was kind enough to invite me to share his home with him. In actuality, it’s a shrine to his dead wife, but it’s kind of endearing. He is a very fine man, and we have fallen deeply in love and are now married. I realize you might have appreciated an invite to your only daughter’s wedding, but it had to take place before the pregnancy began to show. Yes, Mother and Dad, a real shotgun wedding in the family. I could hardly believe it myself. At any rate, I know how much you are looking forward to being grandparents, and I know you will welcome the baby and give it the same love and devotion and tender care you gave me when I was a child.
