Chapter 6
“He’s cute, but I don’t trust him.”
Gemma didn’t know who Charlie was talking about. Right now, she was trying to keep down the bowl of oatmeal she’d been given for breakfast. Even the oats were artificial.
She was still feeling the effects of yesterday’s tranquilizers. She’d slept through the whole afternoon and the night, waking up this morning with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt as dry as the landscape outside the rec-room window.
Charlie prattled on, and Gemma managed to catch a few words here and there and to interpret their meaning. She thought the new doctor was cute, but she didn’t like the way he’d treated her little brother on the playground last week. Charlie’s sentences were often more difficult to parse, filtered as they were through her fellow inmate’s progressive dementia.
Gemma realized then that they had new doctors. What had happened to the ones before? Timmermann, Greensleeves, Rickson. They seemed to have vanished, these new doctors taking their place. Yet she didn’t remember any announcement of the staffing change.
Not that she would remember necessarily. It depended on whether the input was received and properly classified.
There are thirty-seven artificial raisins in this oatmeal. My spoon is made from recycled reinforced aluminum. Charlie’s voice rises an octave when she catches sight of the new male doctor.
These were just some of the thoughts racing through her mind, along with thousands of others. Even with the lingering effects of the tranquilizer, it was still too much, too fast.
The new chief of staff passed their table, his eyes skirting past her but locking onto Charlie for longer.Perhaps the attraction isn’t one sided, Gemma thought.
To be able to feel attraction? Now there was a blessing. Just one of the many her savior provided. Calm and peace and understanding. And a fire that burned its way through her body until she was begging to be consumed by it.
Gemma had never felt any sexual interest in another person before. Reality was too distracting. Arousal didn’t lend itself to hyper-focus. When she should be thinking about how much she wanted her partner, chances were she’d instead be counting the hairs in their eyebrows while recalling every reference that ever mentioned his name. She couldn’t concentrate on one sensation when the world was always pressing in on every side.
Besides, not being able to string together complete sentences didn’t help her chances of finding a guy actually interested in her. How could she pick someone up when she couldn’t even land the simplest of pickup lines?
It had never really bothered her before, but then again, she’d never had a clear enough head to allow herself to feel attraction. Her savior had given her that.
He was also the only man she’d ever recognized as a sexual being. Another one of his blessings. Perhaps a sensual awakening would be a part of what he set off in her. He was a magical creature, so handsome, so refined. Capable of anything, including bringing her out of the blur that held her consciousness restrained to join the rest of the world.
Gemma registered the exact moment when his brother walked in the room. It hadn’t taken long to confirm their relationship, nor learn their names and even his condition. James had anger issues.
His expression gave truth to diagnosis, a stern scowl inhabiting his face. He headed to the beverage station to procure a cup of coffee, then found a table nearby. Taking a drink, he grimaced. The coffee, like everything else in this place, was artificial.
Before she could get distracted by recalling the history of coffee in the galaxy, Gemma stood up and made a beeline for the new resident. She blocked out Charlie’s gasp, forced herself not to count her steps on the way toward him, and covered her ears to diminish possible streams of input. Reaching his table, she stared down at him, slowly removing her hands from her ears.
“Brother,” she said, trying not to count the scars she saw exposed on his skin. One on his forearm, one under his chin. A small cut in his eyebrow.
Focus
“Eyes?”
James just stared at her, and Gemma felt frustration hit her like a wave, throwing her off balance.
“I think she’s asking about the other gentleman that was with you,” Charlie said, coming up alongside Gemma. “She said ‘eyes’ about him yesterday.”
“He’s my brother,” James said, setting the coffee cup down and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “He tends to have this effect on females.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, sitting down across from him and leaning on her elbows. “I have a brother too. He’s twelve, three years younger than me, give or take.”
Gemma held her focus well enough to see the look of disbelief on the male’s face. “You’re fifteen?”
Charlie shrugged. “I’ll be sixteen next month.”
In reality, those months had passed years ago. Gemma estimated Charlie’s age at somewhere around twenty-five. But her condition had regressed her a decade, and it was gradually getting worse. James hadn’t been around long enough to realize.
“So what school do you go to?” Charlie asked, popping a piece of chewing gum into her mouth.
“Eyes!” Gemma wasn’t interested in their inane chatter. If she didn’t get her point across now, she’d soon lose the ability to communicate at all. “Safe!”
