Morph [EDITING] || Wattys 2017 Winner

~TWENTY FOUR~

~amelie~

The soldiers are surrounding me in a tight ring. Even from my position on the floor, kneeling and vulnerable, my arm still hanging uselessly, I can see there's no way out. I'm trapped, and I understand that there are only two outcomes to this: death or imprisonment. And it still doesn't feel real.

I shut my eyes as heavy footsteps come towards me, echoing through the almost-quiet room. It would be totally silent if it wasn't for the blood pounding in my ears. I tense, ready to fight to survive even though I have zero chance of standing up to these men and their guns.
A gruff voice from behind me says, "We've captured it, sir. It's defenceless. We haven't begun the interrogation yet, though, so real identity and gender are unknown."
"Thank you, soldier," comes another voice, and it makes my eyes fly open in horror.

Dad.

He comes closer, those footsteps echoing louder and louder. "Hello. Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"
I say nothing.
"I strongly advise you to talk now, before we make you. It's a little less work on our end, and a lot less pain on yours."
His tone is vastly different from anything else I've ever heard him say. It's cold and businesslike, and his characteristic warmth is gone. I stay quiet.
He sighs. "It's a shame you won't answer my questions. Maybe you need to warm up first. Let's start with some of the easy ones - tell me. What gender are you?"
I know I can't tell him anything, but it's breaking my heart - viewing him as father, enemy and killer at the same time. The answer just spills out - I can't stop it. "Female."
"And what is your age?"
My self-control rushes back into place just in time. "I'm not telling you that." My father isn't stupid. If I told him, he'd link the pieces together in an instant.
"What have you done with Marise Fletcher?"
"I'm not telling you."
"Sir," comes a voice, from someone I can't see, "We've located Fletcher. She's calling from a few blocks away."
I grit my teeth. Of course. Ryan was in charge of taking her far from here, where she wouldn't be found until our mission was over. He didn't do that, and he never took her phone away. I doubt she's even been restrained.
"Thank you," Dad says over his shoulder. He turns to me again. "Why did you pick her to impersonate? What were you trying to achieve?"
"My reasons are mine, not yours."
He laughs, and I tilt my head up slightly to see him. His clothing is the same. His face is the same. But the expression? That's someone else's feelings written on his features. That's not my dad. "If you don't tell me freely, I have the permission to torture you for information. Do you understand?"
I knew it was coming, but still-
"I will not hesitate to force the answers out of you. This country is not safe unless people like you are gone and jailed for what you have done."
I can't stop the anger that rips loose out of me, the tone that doesn't sound like me. The voice disguiser itches against my throat. "What? What have we done? The only crime we have committed is to be born with gifts, and you cannot-"
"You murdered a thousand people!" he roars.
"That was years ago! You cannot hold my generation accountable for what previous ones have done!"
He stops, and blinks. "Interesting. So you're young, yes? You must be, what? A teenager?"
He knows. He must know. Surely he's worked it out. So why doesn't he stop?
"Tell me, or there will be consequences. What do you know of Dr Michael Elian?"
My breath catches. He notices.
"You do know him. You're part of his self-proclaimed rebellion, then? What exactly do you think you're fighting for? Liberty? Freedom? Murderers do not receive lenience. When you are all in prison because of your actions, will you still worship your glorious leader? Or will you curse him, and turn on him, for corrupting your views of lawful society?"
I'm on my feet. I don't know how it happened, but suddenly I'm standing up and the furious click that follows lets me know everything I need to know. Every gun in the room is loaded, and every one is trained on me. I'm standing opposite my father, and my biggest enemy.

Or has the archenemy spot been taken by Ryan?

"You don't get to decide what happens to me. I'm going to escape, and you're never going to find me again."
He smiles at me, and for a second I'm whisked back in time to when I had a family, and he smiled with joy instead of calculation. But this is definitely the latter, and he says, "I don't think so."

Dad leaps at me, pulling a gun out from his jacket, and pins me to the floor. I scream as he pushes down, hard, on my arm. I didn't even realise he had noticed my injury, but the burning agony racing through my veins tells me I'm so, so wrong. Cold metal freezes my skull as he forces his gun up against my head, and I act on basic instinct and shift back to my real appearance in an instant, sobbing, pleading-

The gun retracts slightly, and then we're both frozen in time, father and daughter staring at each other. Recognition blooms in his eyes, and he whispers my name.
"Amelie?"
"Dad."
Hope rises up in me, and I move before I know what I'm doing. My arm goes up to hug him, and his fist smashes into my side. I'm thrown back down, gasping in pain, and he rams the gun against my temple again.
"You're not her," he hisses. "My daughter doesn't call me Dad."
But I can still see the recognition and regret in his eyes, and he mouths the words hang on at me. Then, before I can react, he kicks my arm and I fall sideways, not even acting. My injury numbs the world around me, making my vision foggy and indistinct - but as the pain comes rushing back, it snaps me into horrible clarity. I see Dad make a motion with his hand, and his team of eight turn smartly around. He says, "Make sure nobody comes in while I cuff her."
He smiles slightly at me, and though I have no idea what he's about to do, I know that by some miracle he's helping me. In one fluid motion, he spins round in a circle and fires seven bullets that hit seven men, then reloads the gun. They slump to the floor, and I cry out in shock.

But there's still one left, and he's turning around.

The lead soldier raises his gun and fires twice at the same time as Dad finishes reloading and shoots. What comes next happens in slow motion - Dad's bullet hits the soldier right in the chest, and Dad dives out of the way. But he doesn't manage to miss the soldier's shot entirely, and it sinks into his shoulder. He hits the ground with an agonised grunt, and I scramble over to him as shocking cold spreads from my stomach.

"Dad, Dad, no..."
I rip apart his shirt shakily, and reveal an angry hole in his shoulder that's gushing scarlet. My fingers are covered in blood as I press down, hard. Push down until I can't push any longer. His face is twisted in pain, and I keep saying his name as I try to save him. Time stretches endlessly as his every breath comes slower, and the pain in my arm spikes until it's my own breathing that's stopping. My stomach is so cold it could be on fire, but I don't know why and right now I don't care. Fog creeps around my vision, slithering and insidious, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I push until I'm numb, and my tears are streaming down my face even without my consent. They fall on my father, and he groans as I keep pressing down on his wound, trying to stop his blood flooding out from the ragged split in his skin. Muffled, quiet voices reach my ears, and they're shouting my name. I'm stunned, and the light hurts my eyes as I take them away from Dad and look out of the window. Four figures are coming towards me, on thick rails that twirl ahead of them like drills, and one of them is smaller than the others. A name pierces the cloudy mess that's in my head.

Sophia?

I try to stand up, but my legs won't hold my weight and I collapse, my cheek burning against the cold floor, my ruined arm trapped under my body, my whole body cold as ice. I raise my eyes slowly back to the window, and see a tiny shaft of light illuminating swirling dust. As I stare at it, there's a sudden, painful, huge crash that shakes the room. My strength is flowing out of me with every second, and my vision starts to fail. I see a spear of black shatter through the window, and the other three follow, one destroying a wall. A tiny figure comes running towards me, and for a moment she's running sideways. But then I realise it's me that's tilted, and she's suddenly right next to me.

"Ammy!" She screams my name, fat tears running down her cheeks, and she spins around. I can hear every breath I take, and my heartbeat is loud in my ears, and my brain is unable to to remember exactly who she is, but I still recognise her. I know I love her.
Another girl comes running up, and immediately I know she can help my dad. Her name is blocked by the wall of fog sliding over me. She reaches out with her hands, but I need her to look after the person I've forgotten. I shake my head with the last of my strength, and as my eyes close I see her turn her head slowly away from me. She moves to someone else, and I'm filled with relief that I helped them. My eyes close as I hear someone shout, "She's wounded, and she's going into shock, and you need to help!"
Someone bends over me and says, "How? What do I do?"
"Come here and press on this, and make sure he doesn't die - keep talking to him, and I'm helping Amelie!"
"Amber-"
"Just do it!"
There's pressure on my stomach now, and my vision is almost gone - but it's clear enough for me to open my eyes one last time, look down, and see the bright scarlet, and then it finally dawns on me where the second bullet has gone.