I wasn’t on the tile in my childhood home. I was held against a warm chest, gentle strokes of fingertips skating up and down my spine. Ollie tucked my head under his chin.
“Would you believe Jack said Miranda had the same reaction? That he almost passed out when I broke the news to him? That I did unspeakable things when I learned the truth for myself?”
Curiosity broke through the fear and tears; surface level internet searches were pathetically vague compared to what he told me.
“MirandaandJack?”
He hummed, the vibration through his throat and chest further calming me. “They’re like us too. Same lab, same lies.”
His body heat turned me into liquid, exhaustion rolling through me as the initial shock of it began to settle.
“You learned first?”
“Yea, I found most of it in my mom’s mind, some of it from-” He paused, swallowing hard. “From my dad. It was advertised to them as an affordable trial under the name, Merit Institute,” he explained. My fists unfurled like the rest of me, piece by piece, breaking down under the cold, callous facts.
“Why?” I whimpered. “Why make us like this?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. My eyes burned again. As if sensing the oncoming tears, he squeezed me. “But I’ll find out.”
14
Ollie
Hersnifflestaperedoffthe longer she remained in my lap. I leaned back against the couch from our seat on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from her; I was convinced she knew her origins and mine too, but that hadn’t been the case.
I wasn’t wanted.
The pain in her voice was a jagged edge of murky glass reflecting our ghosts.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking we could use a drink.”
A startled little snort escaped her. It tugged the corners of my lips up.
“All I have is nasty vodka.”
I cocked a brow. Bloodshot eyes, upper lip glistening and cheeks blotchy- her vulnerability was tragically beautiful. I skimmed my thumb under her eye, her lashes fluttering.
“I can handle nasty vodka if it stops these tears.”
She sucked her lower lip in. “No promises.”
I hummed, letting my thumb follow the path of another tear down her cheek. She rubbed her nose and snuck a glance at me.
“Sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?” I asked.
She gestured at my chest. “I just had a mental breakdown, ruined your shirt and got snot on you. It’s gross.”
I smiled. “As the one who triggered the breakdown, I’m pretty sure I’ll live.”
She rolled her swollen eyes and blew out a sigh. “Let me get the vodka.”
Reluctantly, I released her, though I couldn’t be bothered to move while my mind cycled through endless questions.
Courtney plopped beside me, lips pressed to the bottle as she knocked it back. With a grimace, she swallowed and passed it to me. I followed suit, relishing the burn.
