"Are you okay?" The gentle voice fills the room. I turn to face a delicate full-length mirror. A dark-haired girl peers out at me, tiny freckles scattered across a face that looks worried enough to be real.
"I stayed myself. Then I lost myself. Now I do not know who I am," is all I can say.
"I see," the girl says softly. Well. Not a girl. An artificial intelligence.
"You didn't like to frighten them, did you?" she inquires.
"Part of me did. The other half did not."
"As long as you didn't mean it. The children were under my protection. Several of them died. I failed," she concludes, demoralized.
I cast my eyes downward, feeling- what is that? Oh, yes- shame.
"I know you," she says suddenly. "You once asked me to bypass some safety features on the training tritezas. You wanted to practice as if you were in a true battle. You were always a skilled fighter.
Some piece of memory surfaces, only as clear as a shadow beneath a murky lake. I cannot claim it. The water slips through my hands.
"Do... Do you remember anything else?"
"I remember everything," she says pleasantly. "It's all stored in my hardware."
"Could you tell me more?" I ask desperately, hoping to clear the murk away.
"Yes," she says gently. "You had two best friends. The other girl was a dedicated rule follower. The boy didn't mind bending them, so long as he was with you."
"Michael," I whisper, pain thrumming behind my dry eyes.
"Do you need me to stop?" she asks, apparently concerned. "This seems to be causing you distress."
"NO!!!!!" I yell, suddenly angry, lunging towards the mirror. I find myself yanking it off the wall, laughing, planning to smash it against the floor. But as I heft the glass into the air, Michael's face flashes in my mind. I gasp as if drenched in frigid water. My arms slowly lower the mirror to the floor. As soon as the glass rests on the floor, I run away from it, flinging myself into a corner and crumpling to the ground.
I wrap my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth crying or laughing or both. I fluctuate between two people, the killer they made me into and the grieving girl they thought they killed. Who knows how long it persists; I only know that I hear the fighting in the halls lull.
"You aren't well, are you?" a tentative voice emanates from the mirror. I drag myself across the splintered planks, ignoring the scratches and abrasions my hands and knees suffer. I look down. The concerned face gazes up.
"No," I laugh without humor. "I'm not."
"What do you require from me?" she asks. "I am programmed to help as best as I can."
I have nothing to say. I only stare with dull eyes at the reflective surface.
"Would you like me to continue?" she offers. "Maybe remembering will aid in your recovery."
"Please."
So she speaks to me.
_____________________________________
The artificial intelligence retreats to a corner of the mirror, filling the rest of the surface with video taken from the surveillance cameras.
Then I can see it: the favorite haunt of three teenagers. Michael. Lia. Me. The sparring ring.
YOU ARE READING
The Darker Side of Me
TerrorJenna Laosky was five years old when she watched her mother shot down in cold blood. Fourteen years later, she's a highly trained, intelligent fighter for justice. She also happens to a be a prisoner. Captured by the most devious commander in the Un...
