Unforgotten(66)

Cody squints, staring skeptically at the various items in my hand. “Wait. What?”

“It’s a technology that hasn’t been invented yet. They call it re-cognization.” I repeat the exact words Zen used when he first put the receptors on me. The memory of that day slices through me like a knife.

I indicate the small cube. “This hard drive will essentially become an extension of your mind. All you have to do is ask the right questions and the answers will come to you.”

He tenses slightly as I place the first disk behind his left ear, then the second at the base of his neck, and the third behind his right ear. I swipe my thumb across the surface of the drive, causing it to glow green. Cody jolts at the sight of it.

“I don’t understand,” he says, “what exactly is stored on that drive?”

I offer him a tender smile, seeing my own confusion from months ago mirrored in his anxious face. “All of my memories.”





38

PROCESS



Cody’s eyes remain closed for a long time. I observe his reaction carefully, trying to figure out which memory he’s watching at any given time. When he flinches, I wonder if he’s seeing the moment when Mrs. Pattinson called me a witch in front of the entire courtroom. When his face twists with grief, I wonder if he’s witnessing the time Zen first told me who I was and where I really came from. And when his face softens and a faint smile makes its way onto his lips, I wonder if he’s remembering the way Zen always managed to make me feel safe.

I don’t know how much information he receives, in what order he accesses it, or which memories he triggers with his questions. All I know is that everything is on that drive. The last six months of my life.

The truth about who I am. What I can do. Why we escaped.

The wreckage of a plane that I was never on. The family that welcomed me into their home. The boy who found me and helped me remember.

The city that discovered my secret. Called me a witch. Set me on fire.

The artificial memories that are encrypted in my mind. Leading me somewhere. A place Diotech wants to find.

The young man with the aquamarine eyes. Who is like me. Who is out there searching.

The scientist who died in front of my eyes. And the one who impatiently awaits my return.

Kaelen stole it all. Except for the last one. The one that brought me here. To Cody.

That one I keep for myself.

I don’t know which memory finally causes Cody’s expression to turn dark and grim, his eyes to flash open, and his hands to scratch restlessly at the receptors attached to his head, ripping them off and tossing them onto his desk.

I don’t know which of the countless horrid truths finally shoved him over the edge but he abruptly rises to his feet and, without another word to me, stalks out of the room. I listen intently for the front door, praying I won’t hear it open and close. I can’t afford to have Cody leave. Not now. But I also know better than to follow him.

He needs time to process everything. Just as I did when I first learned the truth.

Thankfully, the front door remains closed. Which means Cody is still somewhere in the house. Dealing with the unsettling reality of my life in whatever way he needs to. It’s a lot of information to learn all at once.

I will give him that time.

With a deep breath, I settle back in my chair. The rush of my own fatigue hits me like a stone wall. At first I fight it, refusing to let my eyes close even for a second. But after a while it becomes too much and I give in to the undertow of exhaustion.

I spend the next half hour dozing in and out of sleep in the chair.

When I’m awake my eyes are glued to Zen and the monitors next to his bed. There’s a soft beep that rings out every second, reassuring me that he’s still alive. That he’s still with me.

And yet every single silence that falls between is more tormenting than the last. Waiting for that next beep, that next sign of life, is like waiting for an eternity to pass. It’s like falling off a cliff over and over again. Every empty second that goes by without a beep is gravity pulling me to my death.

When I’m asleep I dream of Kaelen. His ocean eyes staring at me. I gaze into them, finding beautiful relief. Finding escape from this monstrous reality that I’m living.

He slowly reaches out to touch my face. I hold my breath, anticipating his touch. The warmth I know it will bring. The serenity that I know will follow.

But I wake before it ever gets there, a thousand tiny needles stabbed into my heart. The shame I feel for wanting him to touch me—even in my dream—smothers me like a thick, itchy blanket that scratches my skin raw.

I’m suddenly irritable and angry.

Angry that I can’t keep him out of my thoughts.

Angry that when I’m asleep, when his face is in my mind, I don’t want to wake.