Creators (Entangled Teen) Read online

  I dropped my hand and took a step away from the door. I wouldn’t interrupt their moment. I knew what it meant to have a person like Lockwood in your life. A person who was there for you and guided you, not out of some assumed family obligation, but because he wanted to be there.

  I walked into the night air. I walked and walked until I reached the border. I nodded to the guards, my father’s men, who patrolled. Unlike before, when we could go if we wanted, my father forbade anyone from leaving the community unless it was to report to one of the farms for work. I leaned against the gate and looked up at the stars.

  Somewhere, James was just as trapped as I was.

  I thought of the morning after we’d had sex. When it was over, we’d lain with each other, curled against one another, never beginning and never ending. We’d stayed like that till the sun began to rise.

  James had reached down and pulled me off the ground. He’d worn a satisfied grin on his face. “Someone is mighty proud of himself,” I teased.

  He’d laughed. It bounced through the forest, calling it awake. Readying it for the day. “I’m just insanely happy.”

  I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him gently on his scar. “I’m insanely happy too,” I whispered.

  James looked down at me, and I was lost all over again. I would never tire of looking into those mismatched eyes. They didn’t make him different. They made him him. He chuckled as he reached over and pulled a leaf from my tangled hair. “They’ll know just by looking at you that we’ve been up to no good.”

  “No good?” I said. “I thought it was very, very good.”

  James growled and lifted me up into the air. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he pressed his lips hungrily against mine. I moved my hands to his hair, curling my fingers into it, attaching myself to him. I never wanted to let go. Every part of me ached to be touched by him, and every part of me ached to touch him right back.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” he breathed into the base of my neck. His lips fluttered against my skin.

  I nodded, kissing the top of his head. “As much as I love you.”

  James slowly put my feet back on the ground. On the way down, I pressed my body against his. He cradled my face in his hands. “That will never change. No matter what.”

  I looked deep into his eyes. “I know.” Because I did. It was one of life’s few assurances. I would always love James.

  I pressed my lips once again to his scar. “I adore this,” I whispered, unable to hide the smile that seemed etched on my face all morning.

  “Only you would love a man’s fault.” He chuckled.

  “I love every part of you,” I replied, running my fingers down his chest.

  “You’re enough to drive a man crazy,” he said. The tremble in his voice caused my toes to curl. I wanted him again. And again. And again.

  My fingers traced the waist of his pants. “Tonight?” I said, knowing full well it was a promise I wouldn’t be able to keep.

  James grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. “Tonight,” he echoed.

  As the sun climb higher into the sky, I knew our moment was coming to an end. James reached down and placed his hand over my heart. “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion.

  “For everything.”

  As the memory slipped away, I looked back up at the night sky. Praying and hoping that James knew how much I wanted to thank him, too.

  For everything.

  Chapter 13

  Tess,

  The memories are slipping. They have always been what I clung to in those moments when the thought of never seeing you again seems like the only possible ending to our story.

  I flip through them like the pages of the books we used to share. I see you that day in the piano room. I remember how you played with such reckless abandon. I think I loved you even then. I loved the idea of you. So much passion within those delicate fingers as they pressed against the keys. You were already so different than what the council told me you would be. I saw it in the way you looked at me. An intelligence, a need that echoed mine in so many ways. The wish to be defiant.

  When I got past the idea of you, the projection of everything I was told would undo me but only made me, I was a goner. Because when I learned about the girl who sat on my bed with me, traveling to the worlds kept from us, I knew I would never love anyone else.

  I always imagined that when you went off to the community, you would love again. I would never blame you for seeking happiness. I want you to have it so badly. But just as I knew you would find it, I knew there was no other for me but you. I’m sure I sound like one of the characters from some long-ago-outlawed novel, but why not love like them? Why not love forever? I have always been told that love is a weakness, but I think it is my salvation.

  But they mean to take these memories from me.

  I have tried not to write about these moments. I have been worried what they will do to you if you ever read these letters. Only, I fear what these moments are doing to me. I try so hard to fight back, but the council, as you know, is strong. Their strength does not come in the way their armies move across the lands, though that in itself is a force to reckon with. Rather, it comes in the way they control our minds. I believe that is the true danger.

  So, I will write these dark moments here. In case I cannot fight them off. In case they take you from me. I want you to know I fought, and what they are capable of.

  They have abandoned the notion of trying to talk you out of my brain. They had even stopped showing me the propaganda videos. They have moved onto newer, more specialized tactics.

  These are the people who created me, Tess. They cooked me up in a lab like I was a three-course dinner. Kendall picked my hair color, my weight, and size. He played around with my brain to try and foster my ability. They molded me into a fighting machine. So, they will do what needs to be done to keep me.

  The creators are my God, and I am supposed to bow to them.

  Their methods are torturous. A few mornings ago, they tied me down to a gurney and wheeled me into one of the headquarters’ labs. Without any kind of sedation, they inserted a wire up through my nose. They shoved and shoved until the cord, which seemed to come alive on its own, attached to my brain.

  I know they wanted me to scream out, but I held it together. I thought back on you. I was saving you. At least the you that exists in my brain. So, I gritted my teeth and bore it. But that was only the beginning of the procedure.

  Two of the creators watched a tiny screen, which beeped and blipped at them. Somehow through the machine, they could read when I was thinking of you. Perhaps it was my accelerated heartbeat or some chemical being released, but every time I reached for you within my mind, the pain came.

  All kinds of pain. The first time it was an intense wave of nausea. It almost felt as if my stomach was turning in on itself. It was so strong I was sure I was going to vomit all over myself. Still, I did not cry out.

  I searched my mind for another memory of you. I thought of the first time we kissed. How you so hesitantly asked me if I wanted to kiss you. How long I had dreamed of the words. I never thought it would actually come true.

  As I thought of that bliss, that moment I will treasure as long as I am still me, they started the second round. This time it was as if my nose had been broken. I swear I even heard the crack. I couldn’t help it; I gasped out. One of the doctors smiled at me. The sight of his pleasure at my pain called forth what strength I had left inside.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I let every memory I had ever shared with you rush upon my mind. I lavished in them. Despite the pain in my nose, I couldn’t help but smile. The machine blared wildly, signaling that this would not be an easy battle for them.

  Then came the third round of pain. Slowly, they broke every bone in my body, snapping and splintering like trees caught in an angry storm. I managed to lift my head up to scope out my injuries. To my utt
er astonishment, every bone was perfectly fine.

  They had used the wire they attached to my brain to make me think I was feeling these things. The second I started to feel better, they began the process again. Nausea and broken bones.

  This went on for hours. Until it happened.

  I don’t even want to write it. I am so ashamed. I have betrayed you, Tess.

  The last time I went to think of you, I stopped myself. Your image came into my mind, and I shut you out. I forced you away. My body tensed and cringed, trying to shield itself from the pain they would fool it into feeling.

  But after I shut away thoughts of you, they stopped. They pulled the wire from my nose, and they were done with me.

  The next day I held out a little longer. I had spent the previous night preparing myself. But the day after that, I lasted a little less. And the next day, I gave in even quicker.

  This has gone on for one week. Today, I didn’t get past the nausea.

  Please forgive me.

  ~James

  Chapter 14

  “I see she’s dragged you into this as well,” Henry deadpanned.

  “Well, she needed a supplier, didn’t she?” Eric replied, pulling a jar of tannish liquid from his coat pocket.

  “Will you guys just come in already?” I asked. “You’re causing a scene.”

  Time was not on my side, and I needed answers. I had to know what my father’s plans were. Despite training for an hour with him every morning for weeks, I was no closer to the truth. And James was fading. Every morning I re-read all of his letters. His words, his pleas, were what kept me going. Any time I began to doubt what I was about to do, I clutched the letters to my chest, closed my eyes, and reminded myself exactly what I was fighting for.

  Cramped into the tiny hallway outside my room stood Eric, Lockwood, and Henry. I opened the door wider and ushered them in. “Where’s Stephanie?” I asked when Henry walked past me.

  “Oh, Stephanie’s coming? I didn’t know that,” he said, feigning ignorance. He had looked toward the stairs about a million times in the brief moments he stood outside my door. He had been the first to arrive, so we both made pathetic attempts at conversation to avoid entering the room we once had shared alone. Henry bunked with Lockwood now.

  I needed Stephanie for my plan. I had made sure she didn’t have duty, practically begging her to join us. Once I let it slip that Henry would be attending our small party as well, she couldn’t agree faster.

  Not that I had created some genius master plan. I’d simply thought back to the last time I had drank the community’s mystery liquor, and how easily words and truths slipped from my mouth. Like rain that had no choice but to fall from the sky and touch everything. I assumed that since Stephanie committed her life to the great cause, she was just as unused to the potent drink as Henry and I had been. If I could get her drunk enough, maybe she would spill information about my father’s plan.

  “You brought me here to drink?” Lockwood asked. His brow furrowed; he was clearly not impressed. It had taken forever to convince him to leave Louisa’s side, until Sharon volunteered to sit with her for a few hours. Despite giving birth only weeks before, she was back up on her feet, attending to the needs of everyone.

  “I think we could all use a little fun. One night, Lockwood. Think about the last month of our lives. It’s been pretty stressful, no?” I said.

  Lockwood sighed, a deep, soul-shaking sigh. His shoulders slumped as he released all the tension that he held inside. “Yeah. I guess I could use a night off. Not that staying with Louisa is a job. Because it isn’t. I didn’t mean it that—”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to explain. I understand.”

  “Are we going to sit here all night and rationalize every decision we make, or can we just damn drink already?” Eric said. “I, for one, prefer drinking. The best part about it is you won’t ever think of making decisions at all. This beautiful stuff makes them for you.” He brought the jar to his lips, then handed it to me. “Ladies first,” he said.

  “I’m not sure I would call you a lady, Eric. There are a few other words that might fit,” Lockwood said.

  “Let me rephrase. Ladies after stunningly macho men who could kick your ass,” Eric countered.

  I laughed and shook my head. I tipped back the jar and pretended to drink; I even made a face as I pulled the jar from my lips. Eric had made me practice my expression what felt like a hundred times earlier in the day. He didn’t think I was good at keeping my emotions in check. I tended to think he was right.

  There was a soft knock on the door. Henry, who had been sitting on the windowsill, shot up at the sound. “I’ll get it,” he chirped.

  “Wants and needs,” Eric muttered beside me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Stephanie said as she walked into the room. My mouth fell open.

  Stephanie was stunning. Gone was the tight ponytail and dirty uniform. Her black hair was free, cascading past her elbows. She wore a long pale blue skirt with a white blouse pulled tight enough to prove to anyone who wondered that she was all woman, not a girl. The sleeves of her blouse were shorter than what most women wore in the community, showcasing her tight and toned arms. She was the perfect mixture of toughness and beauty.

  I crossed my arms on my chest. Between worrying about Louisa and trying to spy on my father, it had been weeks since I had bathed. I was dirt and dust, tiredness and lost hope.

  I looked over at the other boys, who were also caught in the brightness that Stephanie brought with her into the room, entrapped as if all sense had been stolen from them. I cleared my throat. “You’re not late at all. We just got started,” I said, trying to keep a smile on my face.

  I walked over to where Stephanie stood and looped my arm around hers. I pulled her into the room and motioned for Henry to shut the door. “You’re up next,” I said to her, handing off the jar of shine.

  Stephanie hesitantly took it and brought it to her nose. She sniffed and made a face. “What is this?”

  “It’s the community’s finest water.” Eric beamed. “It would be rude not to at least try it.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that line from guys before,” Stephanie said. She rolled her eyes and took a sip. Once the liquid made its way down her throat, her cheeks flushed red. She coughed into her fist. “You might want to get your water source checked out,” she said.

  “Look, if you can’t handle it…” Eric began.

  “You’d be surprised what I can handle,” she retorted before taking a longer drink from the jar. If the second sip bothered her, she didn’t let it show. She turned to Henry and handed him the jar. “Your turn.”

  Henry glanced at me, and for a second I thought he knew I was up to something. I braced myself for his accusation. Instead, he brought the jar to his lips and drank.

  “Why do I feel like we’re all going to regret this in the morning?” Lockwood asked, shaking his head as Henry handed him the shine.

  …

  Two hours later, the shine had claimed its first victims. Lockwood lay on my bed. His head hung over the edge while his feet rested straight up against the wall. Between the blood rushing to his head and the effects of the alcohol, his face was the deepest red I had ever seen it.

  Henry and Stephanie sat on the windowsill. I watched as their arms and legs casually touched. Her shoulder would brush against his. His fingers would graze hers. Their limbs swayed like the breeze—all movement and no order.

  Eric and I sat on two wooden chairs in the center of the room. Neither one of us was drunk, and neither one of us was pretending any longer. The other three were so far gone that we were sure none of them would notice that we were completely and utterly sober.

  I nodded toward Eric. He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees. “So, Stephanie, how do you like the community? It has to be a lot different than what you grew up in. I mean, you did live in a compound, right?”

  Stephanie leaned her head lazily
against the window. “No. I didn’t come from a compound.” While Eric had been the one to ask her the question, she stared deeply into Henry’s eyes as she spoke.

  “What do you mean you didn’t grow up in a compound?” Henry asked her. He stared right back.

  “I was born in the woods,” she mused, a slight smile on her face.

  “You mean like another community?” I asked. “Another Isolationist outpost?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No. In the woods.”

  Henry laughed. “Like one of the creatures from that play Lockwood tried to get me to read.”

  “Midsummer Night’s Dream. That’s what he’s talking about,” Lockwood called from underneath his arm, which he had thrown over his face.

  Henry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Stephanie’s. “Are you a fairy?” he teased.

  Stephanie threw her head back and giggled, hitting Henry in the chest. “Hardly. My parents were resistance fighters just like me. They met on a mission. I was born on the move. Hell, I’ve always been on the move.”

  Her mother, like mine, was from the last generation to successfully carry children, but even they suffered more miscarriages than births. It was my generation, and every generation after me, that would suffer Emma’s fate. Unless they were like me. Was Louisa? I pushed her image out of my mind; I had work to do.

  “That couldn’t have been a very fun childhood,” I said sympathetically. I felt sorry for her. I couldn’t imagine constantly living my life on the run.

  “Don’t feel bad for her,” Henry scoffed. “She was free. No compound or community to tell her what to do. Growing up knowing that she would be part of the group that would take the council down…”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away. Of course that would be the life Henry would have preferred.

  “Free?” Eric asked, narrowing his eyes at Henry. “You said it yourself. She was born into it. What choice did she have? My people came here so they could be free.”