Tears From My Broken Past

Chapter 2

Dear Dr. Coldwater,

Memories to me are like aliens: we know that they're there, but they remain illusive.  I have one memory of my family: the day they sold me to the doctor that lived in the mansion, you.  I have more from inside the mansion, mostly from when they injected me with the black liquid but some from inside my cage, where I slept on the metal floor with Aaron. 

Many nights I have tried to understand what they did to my.  Between piecing Aaron's, Beowulf's, and my memories together, I have come to the conclusion that you preformed some kind of scientific testing on us.  To this day I'm not sure what you did; all I know is that you've created seven people that you would kill anyone to get back. 

"What are you doing, Vesper?" a voice spoke softly in my ear.  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I knew exactly who it was. 

"Aaron," I said softly.  He began to read the letter I was writing, his long brown hair a thin veil between my face and his. 

"Can you not let go of the past?" he asked, looking up from the letter.  His voice pleaded with me in a way that his words never would, begging for me to forget the past and move on. 

"Aaron, my parents sold me to someone they didn't know, who then preformed scientific testing on me.  After seven years of torture, I finally escaped, and that was only a few days ago.  That's not something I can forget."  I turned my head to look at him, looking him directly in the eye. 

"Vesper.  Listen to me.  There are some things that you just have to forget about, and that is one of them."

"What is your problem?"  I shouted at him, standing up and backing away for emphasis.  This wasn't something that we could, or should, forget about.  They almost killed me, for Christ's sake. 

"My problem?  You.  Why can't you just live and let die?" 

I shook my head, and walked away from him, desperate for some air.  I can't believe that after all we've been through, the hours of torture with the black blood running though me, the feverish conversation of escape, and everything else that we shared together.  In my head, I finished the letter I had been writing to the illusive Dr. Coldwater, the man I had been trying to hunt down since my escape.  

I know that it's been a year since I escaped, and eight since I saw my parents.  Even still, the rage that they instilled in me is still a fire, hungry for blood.  I don't know where you are, but I know that I will find you.  Nowhere is safe from me.