Cognitive Deviance

79. Point of No Return

The Multi Man brought Psychwatch to its knees in less than a year. All in the span of the employment and institutionalization of one Margo Sandoval. Twenty three years old. Empath and Neutralizer. Diagnosed with depression and paranoid schizophrenia. Lying on a table in a cold, pitch-black room, unaware of what day it was. How much time had passed since she'd nearly died fighting the Multi Man.

Plenty of time for sure, she realized. She could bend her fingers despite the Man breaking them during their last encounter. Her elbow could bend without any pain despite a knife tearing into it long ago. Her arms didn't feel like patchwork wearing away. No fresh cuts, no bruises. Even her face felt untouched, as if she'd never received that laceration from the Man's dagger.

I'm dead, she thought, which sent goosebumps rippling across her skin. Or Psychwatch lost, and I've been held hostage for a long time since then. So I'm still dead. Or I will be. And everyone I cared about.

You didn't care about anyone.

Margo's muscles tensed. That wasn't her voice. It was a thought that belonged to her, but the words came from someone else.

You're a Sandoval, said the voice. That's what we do. We look out for ourselves.

"Ellie," Margo whispered.

Margo held her breath as a hand reached around her neck, pressing a dagger to her throat.

And it all comes full circle, said the voice. We cared only about ourselves, and now that's all we have left. Ourselves.

Margo lowered her eyes and exhaled slowly, a tear slipping through and sliding down her cheek. She repeated the voice beneath her breath, "That's all we have left."

"Open your eyes," rumbled a voice like the shattering of Earth's crust.

"That's all we have left," she whispered again.

"I said open your eyes."

This is your worst psychotic episode yet, Margo thought, though she hardly felt relief. You just have to outlive it like all the others.

"You have no idea," the Multi Man said, "how hard it is for me to restrain myself from killing you. After all the opportunities I gave you to bring an end to Psychwatch's downfall. You had your Fatemaker to my head, and you still did nothing. You have no idea what that just cost you."

Yeah? This is probably the better outcome compared to what would've happened if I'd just shot you then and there. Your blood was cold.

Fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead, Margo's closed eyes rendering it a dim white haze to her.

"I can tell when you're lost in your thoughts, Margo," he said. "I know you. You've been getting lost on purpose lately. You've spent so much time with a ThoughtControl in your ear, you assume we can all hear your thoughts, and you're right. I've yet to meet someone more predictable than you."

I could say the same thing about you, Margo thought, though the other voices nearly scrambled everything up. Every time we meet, nothing but speeches and lectures. You're not my father. He would've killed me without even saying anything.

"If I'm predictable," Margo spoke, her voice alarmingly rough, "why do you keep giving me choices? You know what I'll say. You know what I'll do. If you want me and Psychwatch dead, why don't you just get it over with?"

"I already did."

Yep, you were right, said Ellie's voice. You're dead. This is Hell. 

"For God's sake, open your fucking eyes already," the Multi Man said, and he moved the blade away from Margo's throat, resting its tip against her carotid artery.