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“Fuckers! Cowards!” Zeki is cursing up a storm in her little cell. My core crew all know she’s here now. They know what she did. And the only reason they haven’t killed her themselves is they know what we are going to do to her next.
She’s done part of the job for us already by changing her hair color. Zeki looks different with her hair dyed brown. She looks calmer. Saner. She’s neither of those things. She’s absolutely furious that I haven’t simply agreed to become her mate. She was deluded into thinking she just had to prove her viciousness, cunning, and strength to me. All she ended up truly showing me was how desperately unhinged she is. She still believes, even now, that I will choose her. It is sad, and it is painful for her. What we plan to do will relieve her of a burden, and us likewise.
“This is the last chance to say no, Malik,” I tell him as we watch her on camera. She’s raging at the interior of her cell, cursing to the heavens, demanding to be let out. But she’s blown her spot all the way up. We know her secrets now, her connections, the lies she told, the confidences she betrayed. We have become stronger from the wounds she inflicted, though those wounds will always be there.
Malik shakes his head. “She’s not the person I thought I knew. But she is my sister, and at least this way she gets to survive.”
Two of the crew go into her cell. Zeki tries to attack them, but they are prepared for her aggression. Malik curses and turns away. He doesn’t want to watch this. Neither do I.
I want to be there to make sure it happens.
* * *
“Get in the chair, Zeki.”
There was a brief moment of relief for her when I walked into the room. She thought I was going to save her. I guess, in a way, I am. But not in the way she wants to be saved.
“Why are you doing this, Shah!?”
She has the absolute fucking nerve to be shocked that there are consequences for her actions. She expected to be forgiven. Tears are running down her face, but they’re not tears of sadness. They’re tears of outrage. She can’t believe she’s not getting what she wanted.
“Because the alternative is putting a fucking bullet in your brain. Get in the chair. Now.”
“They’re going to brain wipe me. They’re going to make me a moron.”
“They’re going to make you compliant, obedient, and useful,” I tell her. “Should be a novel experience for you.”
In spite of everything, there is a small part of me that feels sorry for her. It’s a very small part. I should never have let her come with us that day Malik defected. I should have left her at home to become the scheming, conniving Elite bride she was born to be. She would have made some factory owner terribly unhappy.
“Shah! Just tell me why! You want stupid and compliant? Will you want me once they scramble my brains? Is that it? You can only get hard if you fuck a brainless idiot?”
“I want loving and giving,” I tell her. “I want brave and selfless. I do not want a plotting, scheming liability who tried to have me killed, and who did get my friends killed. You deserve this Zeki. Now get in the fucking chair.”
Zeki’s eyes are venomous. “Fine,” she spits. “I’ll get in the fucking chair. But this won’t work. I’m stronger than you. You’re weak, Shah. You’re a pathetic…”
“Can we gag her?”
We can, and we do.
14
Dreamy
I am walking to work. It is morning, and I am a good worker, moving with a steady stream of other good workers. We file through the streets, breaking off into columns at various buildings. I go into the box factory with my cohort. From there, we split up again, lines of us going to various stations. This is all how it should be. Pleasingly orderly. Absolutely correct. I am part of this bigness, and it is all I need to satisfy me.
I…
What?
I…
Huh.
There is someone at my station, someone folding box corners with great efficiency. I am momentarily confused. My room unlocked at 5:46 am. I arrived here, at work, in time to start my 6:00 am shift. But there is already someone doing my 6:00 am shift. Someone who looks a lot like me. A girl with brown hair and dark eyes.
“Excuse me,” I say, tapping her shoulder.
She doesn’t turn around. She can’t. To fold a thousand boxes an hour, you cannot take even a single break.
