Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter One

Enna

Chained to a cold, rough wall, I watch in silent horror as a cloaked figure murders my mother.
    I can feel my mouth opening, the scream ripping through my throat, but all sound and movement slows ten-fold. The cloaked suspect backs away from the lifeless body, slowly lowering their hood. And then... I turn to face myself, grinning wickedly. The outlines of tears are drawn over my cheeks in shimmering blood.
    With a breathtaking jolt of panic, I sit up and shout, fingers clawing at my wet cheeks, my sweaty neck.
    "Mom! Mom, I'm sorry!" Pasty sweat covers my neck and back, plastering a gray t-shirt to my spine. Trembles overcome my body in waves.
    A light on the other side of the bed flicks on immediately, illuminating the cozy room that surrounds me. Soft red curtains part around a wide window that lets me view the sky, now dark and dense with cotton ball clouds. A black television screen hangs secured on the wall across from the bed. Matthew narrows his eyes against the lamp's glare, holding up a hand.
His jet black hair sticks up in a few odd places, disturbed by sleep; his hazel eyes, narrowed to avoid blindness, gleam golden under the light of the lamp.
    "Enna, what's wrong?" He takes my hands, holding them hostage. My face stings and I realize that I'd scratched the skin with my fingernails. Taking shuddering breaths, I stare at his eyes as my own fill with tears.
    "I just..." My voice breaks and I stop talking, embarrassed.
    "Was it another dream?" Matthew whispers, eyebrows drawn inward. After a moment, I nod slowly. He lets out a long breath and holds my waist, sliding me towards him. My head perfectly fits into the space beneath his chin. Disappointed, I close my eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of his t-shirt.
This has been the fifth time that I've been woken by a nightmare since a week ago, when I first saw Fake Enna on TV. Each time I manage to put the memory out of my mind, I realize how upset it makes me that someone else is out there posing as me, laying out the legacy that will trail my name until death. The only people I can trust are Victoria, Gale, and the person beside me.
    "You know, you shouldn't worry," Matthew whispers against my ear.
    "Shouldn't I?"
    "Nope."
    "Why not?"
    "Because I said so." I shake my head and the first real laugh I've experienced in a while rises from my stomach.
    "I wish it were that easy." Matthew presses his lips to my neck and I close my eyes again as comforting warmth slowly spills through my body. Goosebumps rise on my arms.
    "Matthew... Don't distract me," I moan, realizing how good it feels to be lying here with him. It almost scares me when I think about how much I don't want it to end, because I know it has to.
    "Distract you?" He stops kissing me, and I can hear his breaths beside my ear. "What are you talking about?"
    "You know what I have to do," I mutter, grabbing his hands and removing them from my waist. "If we don't stop, I don't think I'll ever have the will to do it."
    We lie in relative silence: only the sound of our breathing mingles with the constant whirring of the Mothership, flying high over the ground. A pain pierces my brain as I remember the odd video, the odd moment where I viewed myself on a screen. Well, another version of myself. That wasn't me.
    Was it?
    "Do you really think the scientists have learned to clone people?" I ask, distraught.
    "So what if they have?" Matthew replies. "It's not the same you."
    "I know that..." But do I? Who's to say that this clone doesn't have my same memories, my same personality, my same... everything?
    "Enna, I think you've forgotten that you're not alone," he mutters. "You don't have to do everything on your own. Everyone has their own strengths."
    "Funny. That's what my mom used to say before she died." The comment bursts from my mouth before I can help it, and I regret it as soon as it does. Even though I'd barely managed to move on from the death of my mother and two close friends, their memory still leaves a gaping hole in my spirit, painful to examine. And not to mention the fact that Matthew had come as close to dying as was possible. The fear of losing anyone else scares me more than anything.
    "I'm not going to die, Enna." Matthew's low, soft voice startles me out of my period of self-scrutiny. "Not for a long time, okay?"
    "I didn't mean that--"
    "I know what you meant. I'm just saying that you can rely on me, alright?"
    Throat constricting, I nod, grabbing his arms and pulling them tightly around my waist.