Cognitive Deviance

69. Spotless Mind

March 25, 2037 - 5:25 PM

Fifteen-year-old Margo Sandoval rested against the wall of the Psychwatch hallway, pondering how she'd say goodbye to her old world.

Almost two weeks had passed since her near-death at the hands of her father, and the days couldn't go any slower. If time healed all wounds, then time also possessed a sadistic streak, picking at scabs so they could never heal. The more it picked, the more other people could see the scar that would take the place of the wound.

Margo wondered how much the process would repress. They called it Erase-and-Replace in articles online. It would convert traumatic experiences into new, modified memories, like tampered evidence in a crime scene. She wondered if the process could convince her that her dad was a gentle individual who died tragically young rather than a violent abuser who deserved to be gunned down. Maybe when she'd wake up, she'd be rich and popular and charismatic and confident. Maybe when she'd wake up...

Margo grabbed her head, feeling faint. On paper, it should've been a miracle. Go to sleep, then awaken with a mind devoid of trauma, like a pleasant dream immune to reality's shattering blows. But she wasn't tearing out pages and forcing them through a shredder. She was tossing the entire book into the flames, from the first chapter to the very last. Perhaps there were some pages worth keeping, worth another review.

Hmm, she thought, but nothing came to mind. Especially with the ruckus beyond the door.

Margo leaned in closer and heard three voices. The loudest was her mother's, laced with frustrations buried for far too long, finally making their way out like worms from soil. There were two other voices, both of them male. One was gravelly, precise, yet harboring a layer of impatience more subtle than her mother, as he did his best to let her down carefully. As for the other, words only left his tongue once every twenty to thirty seconds, but his voice was softer and attentive, offering his deepest sympathies only when he was sure he could follow through on the implications of his cordial words and gestures.

I'm sorry, Miss Sandoval. My deepest apologies, Miss Sandoval. I wish we could do more for you and your daughter, Miss Sandoval. It was always the same thing along those lines. Maybe she and her mother weren't pathetic enough to warrant Psychwatch's services entirely, Margo thought. The doctor-cops saw worse situations. This was nothing. Why waste time, money, medications, and the technology of the future on them?

One of Margo's classmates told her something equivalent not too long ago, a girl her age named Alexa. "I hope you know no one gives a shit about you. Your dad could've killed you that day. No one would've cared. The teachers aren't getting paid enough to give a shit. You tell the counselors what they want to hear, and they leave you alone. See? So just disappear already."

Margo wasn't a fighter. Not yet. Any attempts at throwing or blocking a punch would've broken something. Or they'd might as well. She'd fought back before, and each time they'd laugh in her face and tell her those hits were nothing. Only gusts of wind. They said very little after she'd grabbed Alexa by her hair and yanked with all her might.

Margo didn't regret standing up for herself, but of all the images catalogued in her memory, the sight of blood trickling down Alexa's scalp and nose, the oozy sensation of the red fluid on her fingertips, Alexa's shrieking, she wouldn't miss a single one of them.

She tensed up in her seat, her eyes burning into the wall opposing her, when footsteps sounded through the hall. Until then, the headquarters were for her and no one else, loads of space for her to sulk uninterrupted. Now she was alone in the hallway with Carl.

The officer froze, the two of them wondering who'd move a muscle first, utter the first word. What would they even say? Greetings? Condolences? Pointless small talk? Hell, some of the most powerful interactions between individuals happened without a single word. So they remained quiet, even as Carl took the seat next to her.