We hold each other’s gaze before I curl up on my side, my hands tucked under my cheek. “Someone got to me,” I whisper. “They found me and they got to me. She scared me, Marcella.” My voice cracks. “I’m always scared.”
I don’t mean to, but I start crying. One of the most difficult aspects of the aftermath of the academy is the helplessness. The feeling of never, ever being safe again.
Marcella puts her hand on my arm and then lies next to me, letting me cry on her shoulder.
This isn’t the first time I’ve broken down. We’ve all done it since leaving the academy—moments where our emotions were uncontainable. So we agreed not to hold them in, especially after Annalise pointed out that controlling our emotions was one of the ways the academy manipulated us.
A hysterical girl is easy to discredit, in their eyes. Annalise believes it’s the opposite: Deeply felt emotions are our power. Our ability to feel is just as important as our ability to think.
But … I haven’t been completely honest with the girls. And even now, I can’t bring myself to completely fall apart. I’m scared of losing myself in my fear.
Because that’s the thing: I’mscaredin the most debilitating way. I’m so scared that I wake up multiple times a nightto check the lock on my bedroom door. I’m so scared that I sleep with the lights on, leading Sydney to room with Annalise instead.
I’m so scared … that it was my idea to shut everyone out of our lives.No new friends.I promise myself it’ll be different when this is all over. That we’ll get to live.
But that’s not true. This may never be over.
“You don’t have to be alone, Mena,” Marcella whispers. She pets back my hair, continuing to study me with a sympathetic gaze. “You can’t keep going like this,” she adds.
“Like what?” I say, wiping the tears off my cheeks.
“Alone.”
I swallow hard, lowering my eyes. She’s right. I’ve been withdrawn. I used to find comfort in the girls, in our closeness. It’s still there, of course. But I’ve shut out the world. I distrust it. Resent it. But the isolation is starting to eat away at me.
Every day, I become a little less human.
“I know you’re scared,” Marcella says in a quiet voice. “And that’s why I want you to give Raven a chance.”
“What?” I ask, stunned. “Raven? But we don’t even know her.”
“You need help. We all do.”
I’m offended that she thinks a hacker can solve the problems that society created with a simple tweak. Like we’re the problem and not the abusive men who created us.
“So what do you want her to do?” I ask. “Stick an ice pick in my eye and reprogram me? Download my consciousness?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, what?” I ask. “What can she possibly do that wouldn’t make us more vulnerable?”
“Her firewall idea,” Marcella says. “If she can really do that, really lock people out, then they can never reprogram us without our consent.”
“It’s not worth the risk,” I say, although it’s not a terrible idea in theory.
Marcella groans, frustrated. “I disagree,” she says. “It could have been any of us who answered that call. And I’m going to be really honest—you need to get checked over. Who knows what that woman did to you when she was in there. Look at what happened to Imogene.”
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling exposed.
I don’t think I’ve been changed, but she tried. She tried hard enough to make my head hurt for hours after.
“She didn’t get in,” I assure her.
“Maybe not this time. But if it really was an EMP, if this woman and whoever she’s working with are actually nearby … can we take that chance?”
I put my hand over my forehead, rubbing it gently.
“You don’t have tojustbe scared,” Marcella says. “And you don’t have tojustbe angry. You can be careful, and loving, and pissed off … all at the same time.”
