He's Just a Kid

I Just Can't

The bad feeling that stayed with me as I went home that night ate away at me until I was barely a shell of myself when I got there.

I had never seen my dad that angry before in my life. It was when I woke up the next morning when I knew he found out. He was shutting down my capsule, yanking me off of the anchor connected to my chip and beat the crap out of me. I remember looking up at him from the cold concrete floor, clutching my throbbing stomach and trying to blink the fuzziness out of my vision.

The pure rage that I saw in my father's eyes will forever haunt me.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET YOURSELF GET DISTRACTED!" he bellowed. "I TOLD YOU TO LET HER GO, MARCUS!"

So I went to school numb, trying to forget everything that happened the night before. But I couldn't. I still remembered the look in her eyes when I told her how I felt, I still remembered the gleam in her gaze right before she kissed me, the tenderness of her touch, the sweetness in the kiss, how she fit inside my arms.

And I was about to lose all of it.

And there she was, prancing up to me with a look of pure child-like joy on her face, her blond curls bouncing as she ran. Gosh, why can't I keep you?

"Hey, Marcus!" the happiness in her voice made everything so much more painful. "How did you sleep?"

Her gaze flitted to my aching jaw for a moment and her smile faltered. Oh no, I worried. Do I have a bruise?

Abby's eyes met mine and I wanted to die. I wanted to die because of the sadness reflected in them. I wanted to die because I saw how much she cared, how much she cared about me. Me, of all people. Me, the one who was going to end up capturing her friends in the future.

She cared about me.

"Marcus, what happened?" A knowing look crossed her features.

"Nothing, it's nothing," I lied, trying my best to fake a smile. "I tripped on the way home last night, it's fine."

"Marcus, I'm not stupid."

Something in my gut wrenched. My dad was right. She was making me feel things. Some good, some bad. And, to be honest, most of the time it was amazing. But right now, right now it was not good. It felt really, really bad.

I didn't like emotions. I hated feeling that. I wanted it to stop.

But while she was there I couldn't make it stop.

"It's really fine," I insisted. "I don't really want to talk about it anyway."

I tried to walk past her to class, but I felt her hand close over my wrist, sending a chill across the entirety of my body. I didn't know why she was having such an affect on me, but I didn't want it to stop no matter how much I knew it needed to. Maybe if I cut off the feelings here, he would let her live---

"Your dad caught you, didn't he?"

I froze. Slowly, I turned around to face her. Her eyes were trained on mine and it was like I was watching myself. The understanding that was all over her face . . .

I squinted my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to see it. I wouldn't be able to speak if I looked at that face for much longer.

I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. "He really doesn't like us being together," I admitted, my voice so quiet that no one else would have been able to hear.

"So he's just going to hit you because of it?" Abby's voice was starting to rise with the anger she was clearly feeling.

"Abby---"

"No, Marcus. That's not cool." She finally let go of my hand and stepped closer to me. Her eyes were no longer angry. They were . . . I don't know what they were. 

"Do you need me to call someone?" she asked. "Do you need help?"

I don't know why I shook my head when I really wanted to scream "yes! Help me, please! I can't do this anymore!". I don't know why I wished her well and just went to class without a second glance when I really wanted to collapse into her arms. I don't know why I walked away when I really wanted to run away with her, somewhere far where she could be safe from my dad. I don't know why I looked away when I really wanted to tear my eyes out just so we could spend time together without my dad watching our every move.

I don't know why I left her standing there in the school lobby alone.

Chase came running up to me on the way to lunch. "Hey, Marcus! You okay? I haven't seen you this down before and I just wanted to check in on you."

It annoyed me that he was so nice. After all, I needed to hand him over to my dad. His likeable personality was going to make this so much harder than it needed to be.

Why do you care? I scolded myself.

He's my brother.

Wonderful. As if things couldn't get any more complicated, I suddenly started to care more about my siblings. 

Abby was changing me. But was it for better or for worse?

"I'm okay," I told him, trying my best to seem reassuring. "It's no big deal. I just didn't get enough sleep last night, is all."

In all actuality---as you can probably guess---the image of my father brutally murdering Abby kept haunting me. He said he was going to remove her from the equation, but he didn't say how and that scared me.

I faltered and Chase gave me a weird look. I wasn't focusing on him though, I was focusing on what I had just realized. I was scared. I knew what fear felt like. I was scared of what my dad would do to Abby, I was scared of what might happen to her, I was scared I would never see her again.

I hated having emotions. I wanted to go back to the way I was before Abby.

But that meant I would have to give her up, didn't it?

I groaned aloud. "Chase, I don't know what to do."

Chase blinked at me, gripping the straps of his backpack. "What do you mean?"

"Would you give up someone you cared about just so you could prevent something bad that could potentially happen in the future?"

I didn't know why I was telling him all of these things. I didn't know why I was being so open about it. This was not part of the plan, this was not how my mission was supposed to go. I wasn't supposed to be having a heart-to-heart with the guy who's supposed to be my enemy. But at the same time this was Chase. He was my brother. Might as well talk to him about more deep things while we had the time, right?

Oh, my dad is going to kill me.

"I think," Chase began, "there is always a third option."

I looked at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There's always another choice to situations like these," he explained. "You might not know what the third choice is right now, but it could possibly be the right one. At least in my experience that's the way it goes."

He was right. I knew he was right. Maybe there could be a way to save Abby and still get to be with her.