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I shake my head and try to refocus. Poisons. This knowledge could be a great advantage for me. It could also help me get to my mark without leaving a bloody trail behind. Is there a poison that can make him feel the same pain I've felt growing up without my parents? The same pain I feel when I wake up fighting every night because of what happened to me without them. The same pain I feel when I close my eyes and see a bullet go through my father's head, then my mother's.
It would need to be a poison that worked fast but didn't leave much of a trace. If he was able to notify anyone, there's a chance it might not work. Cyanide and Ricin leave a trace and are messy, they would both point to murder too quickly. Curare could work but the amount that would be needed and the method to deliver it would be tricky. Not to mention the second he became paralyzed the antidote would likely be available to him. Maitotoxin is a good idea though.
It mimics food poisoning and is a known toxin in seafood. If I could find a way to make sure he had a seafood dish and slip the toxin into that, it would all look like an accident. However, it can take a while to work up to heart failure and there are enough supportive therapies for it to be managed if the dose isn't instantly lethal. A dose that high would look suspicious though.
My brain starts going in circles with all the options. No plan seems to work that also has me walking away without questions. I could drop the poison and disappear before anyone could get to me. My identity doesn't matter to me at this point so escaping and disappearing would be fairly easy. I could run my uncle's organization and sit in the background.
For nine years I’ve been willing to give up anything and everything for my revenge. Yet, all of a sudden, I don't really want to give it all up. I want to live a life I can enjoy. I want to go on vacation and meet someone and maybe even have a family one day. There's no way that could happen while trying to stay hidden.
“Why do you look like you're in pain?” Laney asks me, pulling me from my thoughts.
“What?” I ask her with a little too much bite behind it.
She quirks her eyebrow at me. “It was just a question,” she sighs. “Look, I'm just trying to be a friend. If you want me to go and leave you alone then that's fine. You just have to tell me. But this attitude thing, it's not cool.”
I'm slightly taken aback by her forwardness, but at the same time it's refreshing. Maybe she has a little more backbone than I thought.
“Sorry,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “I’ve never really had a friend before so I don't really know what I'm doing.” I decide being honest is the only way this could really move forward. I don't know much about friends, but I feel it's a fairly gold standard not to lie to people. I can't tell her everything, but I can be nicer and make more of an effort.
“You’ve never had a friend before?” she asks dramatically, pretending to jolt backward.
A small laugh escapes me. “Yeah, where I grew up, I was surrounded by adults all the time, and even when I went to boarding school I had my own room. My whole focus was getting out of there. So instead of going to parties or making friends, I studied and took exams early.”
I look down at my book, realizing how sad that must sound now that I've said it out loud. “I was able to graduate at fifteen and go on to start doing something I actually enjoyed.”
Laney sits there in stunned silence with her mouth hanging open. “You had no friends, and you were practically a kid genius. What could you have possibly wanted so badly that you would be willing to sacrifice the last bits of your childhood?”
Well, that was forward. I'm not really surprised though. Seeing how all of these kids grew up, even in crime families, is vastly different from how I did. “I guess I just…” I stumble with my words. How do I say that in order to enact revenge on my parents' murderer, I had to get through school as fast as possible so that I could train at the compound with my uncle, without giving too much away?
“I wanted to be allowed to make my own choices,” I say and Laney nods, slowly willing me to go on. “In order to do that I had to graduate, and to me, it wasn't worth sitting around for three extra years just to have a social life.”
She considers that for a moment. “I have a feeling that when it comes to you that I'm never going to get the full story. So, instead of half-truths and walk-around conversations, let's make a deal. When we hang out we talk about the here and now. Life on Elysium, classes, maybe even bits of the future. We don't talk about the past or families or anything off of the island. Can that work for you?”
I definitely underestimated her. She may be someone who can talk your head off, hunt down the brightest shade of pink in all of her clothing, and touch me way too much, but she sensed my discomfort and found a way for us to meet in the middle. Is this what friends do? Have I been missing out?
I let out a breath and give her a genuine smile. “I like that idea. Thanks, Laney.'' I tuck my hair behind my ear and try to get back to studying. My mind is in a haze though, and I can't seem to shake it. I slam the book shut, making Laney jolt in surprise.
“I can't focus on another damn word. Want to go on a run?” I ask.
“Um, I don't really run. How far do you plan to go?”
“Probably just one of the outer island loops, about eight miles.”
“Yeah, I would die if I tried that,” she laughs under her breath, and I find myself smiling again.
“Want to do the inner one-mile loop around the runway with me, then I can go on to the outer loop while you head back to the suite and shower?” I ask, trying to meet her halfway. If she is willing to help work with me, I want to do the same for her.
“Sure!” she beams, getting up and packing her stuff.
We go back to the suit to change. I grab some black leggings and strap my blades to the outside, then throw on a black hoodie that says “Nobody cares, Work harder”.
Laney walks out of her room with a neon pink sports bra and matching shorts as she begins to pull her long blonde hair up. “Alright, no judging me,” she says, not knowing that I already am.
“You have your judgy eyes on, Ev, I like pink. Get over it,” she tells me, flipping her hair and turning to put her shoes on with me. Maybe I'm not as good at hiding my facial expressions as I thought. I'm also loving this little attitude Laney has when she's not afraid I'm going to throw a blade at her.
“I just think it's funny,” I tell her as we start to walk out the door. “I definitely had you pegged for a bratty pretty girl who was just here to make her daddy proud.” Her body seems to freeze as I lock the door behind us. “But now, I’m starting to see there's a lot more to you than the pink outfits and chatty exterior.”
We walk outside into the fresh evening air before we start stretching. “When people first see me,” Laney starts without looking at me, “they always think they know me. They see the pink clothes and my extroverted personality, and they assume I wear my heart on my sleeve, that I'll be easy to manipulate.”
