Gregory looked right at me like he saw it all, devastation etched across his face. “Then never let them find out.”
The Pod came to a stop, the doors opening. “You said they are always a step ahead.”
“I did.”
“So if they are, won’t they find out?”
“Most likely.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Only you can answer that.”
“What would you do?”
Gregory gestured to his blue suit. “There is nothing I will not do, little sister.”
“Do you love her?” I asked.
Gregory laughed, seeped in sorrow as he twisted the gold band he wore as the Pod stopped. “There is not a word I know for what I feel for her. She is”—Gregory swallowed, shaking his head as he stared at the stars—“everything, everywhere. The stars, the earth, the very air. She is everything. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
I wanted to know how it had happened, but I didn’t ask. I stepped off the Pod as Gregory reached for the stars. The man who claimed he was a horrible person. He let them call him horrible names and acted the part, all for feelings he could not act on, all to protect someone he could not have. He might have been the most honorable person I had ever met, and no one would ever know.
I knew my next steps, but I didn’t know their ramifications. My hand flew to the door, holding it open.
“What is it?” Gregory asked, coming to sit.
“You aren’t a horrible person, Gregory.” Our eyes met. I released the doors before he could respond, and the Pod took off.
My plan took shape with each step to my living quarters. I thrust my arm under my scanner before I made my way to my wardrobe.
My colorful gowns overtook the gray, all neatly hung up. I had been happy to see them every day. I had carefully displayed each one, the coordinating shoes and clutch neatly aligned with the dress. I treated them like sacred tokens from their beautiful world. They weren’t sacred. They were guises, used to distract us from the horrors they committed.
I ripped off the beaded gown, desperate to be free of it—tearing at the neck until it came free, falling heavily to the floor, the beads scattering. There was a stain on the hem of the gown. My chest cracked open.
The man’s blood had stained my gown. Hot tears of anger and despair filled my eyes, threatening to spill over. I wiped wildly at them, refusing to let them fall. My lens shifted.
I raised my hand to my left eye and unceremoniously removed the lens. I flicked it to the floor. I hung the gown beside the others. It wasn’t a token. This gown was a beacon guiding me, pushing me toward this next step. I tossed on my gray shirt and threw myself onto my bed.
In my body’s stillness my thoughts became mutinous as they tore apart my conditioning. Frenzied and crazed, those thoughts devoured the things that had left me okay with doing nothing.
Follow the Illum’s protocol, abide by the rules of the Minor Defect population, and constantly seek self-improvement, and you will rise, fulfilling your use for the Greater Good.
I couldn’t. My plan was dangerous. I ran my fingers over the chip hidden in my wrist. They would know where I was going. Maybe I would find one of those cuffs Hal had had before the Illum discovered me. Maybe I wouldn’t. Somehow that should have given me pause. Collin had told me that if the Illum took notice, he would only be able to do so much.
The truth was I had enjoyed being with Collin. I had enjoyed the way his mouth felt against mine, the way he held me. I had wanted him to be different—to be that man in my immature dream of being twirled in a beautiful gown. I had wanted to be saved.
I’m not foolish enough to ask for something no longer obtainable.
I had ignored the viciousness and power that were always there. I had ignored what he was. He had killed that man, put Gregory in blue, and addressed the Elite in a way that left me feeling like the fool.
Collin hadn’t been the only one to choose wrong.
I was the property of the Illum. I had no one to blame but myself and my desperate need for more, a foolish want that had sealed my fate. My self-pity greedily swallowed me whole.
Hal had been right, and I had pushed him away, spewed horrible things at him. I owed him an apology, but more, he needed to know that his people were in danger.
I had the day off. I didn’t intend to waste it. The consequences be damned.
