Death's Exception

Chapter Nine

I gasp and stumble backwards. My vision focuses on his face trying to recollect a memory that is no longer there. I suddenly long for the tracheostomy. I long for that little tube that helped me breathe; because right now I cannot. I start to waver, and my knees buckle. I stumble backwards, and trip over myself. The screen that holds this man's face seems to surround me, and I cannot get away from it. My head cries out in anguish at the memory that is supposed to be there. I hit the ground, and my arms hit the ground. I stare up at the face and tears are now rushing to my eyes as I try to breathe.

"I loved her." His voice seems angry as he is yelling at Dr. Finley. His eyes are still wide with horror, but his throat is raw with anger. An anger that quakes his body. He stares at me, trying to maintain his professional stance. He needs to shut up. He needs to go away. He needs to be fake. He needs to be a figment of Dr. Finley's cruel nightmare serum. I need to wake up from this terrible nightmare. My vision funnels around his face, and I start to breathe heavily. My head aches. It aches. It aches. It aches. I force my eyes to close. I shut them tightly, scared of what hovered outside of them. I hear yelling, but the voices just bounce through my head with a meanlingless tune. The president looks at what must be a face behind the camera, and nods a little. He leaves the screen.

"No!" I scramble to stand up, but I lose my balance and fall harder. "No, no, don't go! Please!" I breath hard, and whimper. Longing for his face to come back on the screen. Now begging the face that I wanted to leave because he, "YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN TELL ME ABOUT MY PAST." I fold into myself and weep. I feel two strong arms pick me up delicately, and a hand press my head into his chest. I look up into the face, still terrified, and confused, but his eyes comfort me in a way that nothing has ever done before. They remind me of the voice. The first voice I ever let inside my head.

Titus' voice.

He carries me to my bed, and lays down with me. His arm is under my head, and his foot touching mine. I let myself become unwraveled in front of him. I trust him with my raw emotions. His fingers calm through my hair. I bite my lip. It hurts. To have your happiness declined. To have your feelings disregarded. To have your whole life slip through your fingers into someone's unwilling hands.

"He knew." Titus' voice quivers with anger that I have never heard, nor imagined would come from his mouth. I look into his eyes with a confused expression.

"Who knew what?" He squeezes his eyes shut, and repositions his body to sit up, making my head fall into his lap. I sit up with him, and lay my head on his shoulder.

"Dr. Finley knew about the President. He used it to his advantage." My muscles tense as I hear the horror in Titus' realization become stronger. My throat becomes tight and raw.

"What- what advantage?" Titus withdraws his arm from under my head, and rubs his face in agony.

"He needed permission to broadcast you live in front of the whole world. So that everyone can see you and marvel in his all powerful knowledge." He spits bitterly. "The President can't refuse now, because he doesn't want to look unprofessional by letting something so personal affect him." I tear my eyes from his, and look down at my hands. They look so small and uncapable.

"It is clever, isn't it?" He laughs a harsh, terrible laugh.

"Yeah." And that is when I retire myself to his arms. I let myself fall asleep. I let myself relax. I let myself shut my eyes not fearing what lies behind them. It is interesting, isn't it? When an infant enters the world, it knows who to trust, and who to feel safe with. It knows whom to love. It knows whom to depend on. I suppose you could say that Titus is and has been the one thing that I can honestly trust. He is the only person that I can look at and honestly say that I am confident in him.

He is the one life that I am confident in.

Even when I am not confident in my own.

~~~

"Oh, did I wake you?" My eyes slowly open. My head hurts, and I feel that I could instantly fall back into my slumber that was rudely interrupted. I sit up groggily, not amused at the voice that has disturbed me. I just had a mental and physical break down. I don't get a nap? But when I see the face that woke me, I feel like a bucket of ice cold water is being dumped on my head.

Of course Dr. Finley would have the audacity to wake me after he ruined my entire day.

Why did I even expect to get some rest?

"What do you want?" I almost shout.

"Well, I figure that yesterday may need to be explained through a little heart to heart." Dr. Finley takes out a tablet, and starts mindlessly writing down meaningless equations. "No matter what my darling Titus says, I had no idea of your- um- relationship with Mr. President. But I did, however get his permission." I restrain a scream of frustration.

"Ah, what a lovely turn out for you." He doesn't look up from his tablet, but he smiles to himself.

"Mmhm. Anyway, I need your permission to do so, because, well it is your life." He laughs to himself, but still does not look up from his tablet full of equations.

"No."

"Okay." He stands to leave. Stunned, I open my mouth and close it again. I expect persuasions and threats and everything besides a simple agreement. When he stops at the door, he pauses. And I know. This is it. "Ah, you should know that broadcasting in front of the press, we could mention your previous relationship with said president, and they would basically force the truth out of him for us. But, your choice." I hold my breath, determined not to say it. Don't say it.

Whatever you do.

Don't

say

"Okay." He smiles evilly, and leaves.