Unforgotten(117)

My life belongs to him now.

It takes Alixter a few stunned moments to react. But then he snaps his fingers and points toward me. The guard closest to me responds, wielding his Modifier as he approaches.

I don’t run. I don’t move. I breathe in. I breathe out. The air comes easily. Without a fight.

It feels good not to fight.

The cold metal prongs jab against my skin, just at the base of my ear. And I welcome the darkness.





67

GRAYED



The table is cold and hard against my bare back, causing me to shiver in the chilly room. I open my eyes and gaze into the blinding white light above my head.

I try to move, but it is pointless. My wrists and ankles are cuffed to the table with large, steel clamps. My head is restrained by a strip of metal stretching across my forehead, keeping me from struggling.

A man in a lab coat appears above me. His eyes are gray and emotionless. Like a robot’s. I wonder if he is one.

My throat is parched and scratchy, making it impossible for me to speak. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to ask what is happening.

I knew when I agreed to stay that this was what my future held.

They will rebuild my brain.

They will make me docile. Compliant. Agreeable.

And they will take everything.

But I know it’s the only way I will be able to survive. The only way I will be able to live with my decision.

When Zen is completely erased from my memories. When there is nothing left to remind me.

He is safe. And that’s all I need to know before he is stolen forever.

“Don’t worry,” the man reassures me in a completely unreassuring voice. “This won’t hurt. And you won’t remember a thing.”

That’s what I’m hoping for.

I watch him prepare a long, sharp needle. Drawing up an unknown substance.

I feel the sharp prick as the needle settles into my arm. The mysterious fluid works fast. Clouding over everything in my vision. Turning my world to a dreary, colorless gray.

I focus my thoughts on Zen’s face. His vibrant, deep brown eyes. His perfect crooked smile. The soft urgency of his lips against mine. The way one strand of his hair would curl down his forehead when it got wet.

The gentle warmth of his touch on my forehead as he whispers in my ear.

“Yes. Always yes.”

I hold on to all of that. Clenching it tightly as my mind is infiltrated. Gripping it desperately as my thoughts are seized. Keeping him alive in my memory for as long as I humanly can.