The End

Chapter 5

            Bracing myself for his answer, I asked the question I had been dreading.

            “How?”

            He smiled slowly, chuckling to himself. Standing from the couch, he pointed at me, indicating it was time for me to sit, which I did graciously. My knees shook as I sat on the couch, my nerves on fire. Pacing, Duke turned to stare at me.

            “Do you ever wonder where it comes from- the Sub-D?” he asked, eyes attentive, curiosity burning within them.

            “D-Dr. Stephens makes it—doesn’t he?” Suddenly, I began to question everything I had been told. I began to think of all of the lies he could have told me, no one there to stop him. After destroying me physically, why not emotionally and mentally as well?

            “Has he ever mentioned someone named Jason, or ‘the Chemist’?”

            Thinking back, the name sounded familiar.

            “Maybe, but what does this have to do with anything?” I asked, desperate for answers—desperate for the truth.

            “This has everything to do with it,” he laughed coolly. “Without him, you wouldn’t be here.”

            “How do you know?”

            “He’s my father,” he smiled obnoxiously. “I’ve known about you for years. Everything about you.”

            “Is that why you followed me?”

            “That’s why I followed you, why we have the same schedule, why we’re partners. You’re dangerous, Florence,” he added, smiling again.

            “You’re protecting everyone from me.” The realization hit me hard.

            “I’m protecting you from yourself.”

            He leisurely made his way over to where I sat. He lowered himself onto the cushion beside me, gingerly running his fingers over mine. Gently, carefully, he picked up my hand, fitting my fingers between his. Clasping them together, he looked at me, not through me. He knew everything, one of four people on Earth that truly knew everything: my creator, my provider, my guardian, and my destroyer, everyone was blissfully clueless.

            “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me where you take it.”

            I shook my head, not wanting to expose anymore of myself to him; he knew too much already.

            Cupping my cheek in his hand, he forced me to look at him.

            “Florence, it’s okay. Show me,” he urged.

            Taking a shaky breath, I complied, slowly moving to my feet. My fingers trembled as I grasped the denim waistband beneath my shirt. Moving the button to the side, I unzipped my jeans, pulling them over the site of destruction, one of many. Stepping forward, I left the fabric that masked my difference behind, revealing the degree of separation that my thighs depicted.

            He stared at my face before running his gaze over the entirety of my body, before landing on my thighs. His breath caught in his throat, releasing a choked gasp as he caught sight of the mutilated, repulsive legs.

            “Oh my G-“

            He breathed shakily, standing quickly, pulling me into him, tears welling and obscuring his vision.  Burying his face into my neck, he steadied himself.

            “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

            Finding myself unable to respond, I pulled him closer.

            “I won’t let them hurt you again,” he promised, his hands tangling lovingly in the black locks, which tumbled down my back. “I’ll save you.”

            “The only one you can save me from is myself,” I responded quietly.

            I did this. No one was to blame but me. If I didn’t give myself the injections, I wouldn’t destroy my body. If I didn’t give myself the injections, I wouldn’t be here.

            Slowly pulling back, he glanced down once more.

            “Where else?” his tone soft, now almost sympathetic compared to the earlier compassionless demanding.

            My fingers groped aimlessly for the hem of my shirt. As I moved to pull it over my head, I realized what I was doing and stopped. Duke picked up where I left off, gently tugging it over my head. My hair cascaded down, like a waterfall of black, acting as a curtain to keep me from being completely exposed.

            He disregarded my shirt, tossing it behind him haphazardly. I held my breath, eyes downcast. This was the closest I’d ever been to a human, in an emotional way. Dr. Stephens was so ashamed of what I’d become, I was lucky if he even punished me, that showing the slightest bit of interest. Never in my life had I been held the way Duke held me. True, it was out of pity and remorse, but even that was more than I’d ever been given. He was human. Though I may share similar feelings that were something I’d never be.

            Looking at him, I watched as the tears slid down his delicate cheeks. Raising his eyes from my caved-in stomach and prominent ribs, both riddled with the holes that gave me life, he connected them with mine.

            “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

            “So am I.”

            He stepped forward, moving my hair away, and examined my bony upper body. Apart from the two thin pieces of fabric, I was completely exposed, completely his.

            Walking behind me, he tossed my hair over my shoulder, examining each knobby protrusion of my spine. As I shivered, he gripped my shoulders, spinning me into him, catching me as I stumbled.  Trying to pull away, I struggled against him, but he drew me closer, smoothing his hands in my hair.

            “It’s okay. Shh—I won’t let you fall,” he murmured, reassuring tenderly.

            Cautiously, he scooped me into his arms, carrying me to the couch, where he placed me softly. Duke moved to sit on the floor, but I caught his before he could.

            “Stay with me,” I muttered.

            “Always.”

            Carefully, he crawled over me to lay behind my body, arms wrapping protectively around my waist. As his breathing slowed and his body relaxed against mine, I began to think things over.

            Dr. Stephens wasn’t the only that knew of me, he didn’t provide the vital substance my life depended on. He lied.

            Protectively, Duke tightened his grip, pulling me closer. I looked back at him, where his eyes fluttered open.

            “I’ll save you,” he whispered raspily.

            “What if you can’t?”

            “I’ll die trying.”

            He gently pressed his lips to my temple. His eyes drooped closed again, retreating into his mind.

            Repeating his action, I tenderly connected my lips with his forehead, a smile appearing on his. At that moment, I vowed to keep him from following through; but in order to save him I needed to save myself. If his life weren’t tethered to mine, I’m honestly not sure I’d bother trying.