Valuable Assests

Past Pains and Present Pleasantries

I dream of my brother. It is, quite possibly, the most unpleasant dream I'd had in months, second to the one about that teddy bear.

My brother has an odd fascination with eugenics. He has since he was what, seventeen? He found a section about it in an encyclopedia in our father's office and thought it was the greatest thing mankind had ever thought up. He used to ramble on and on about how it was achievable and about how much he wanted to test it on a small scale before expanding. The thought made my spine chill. No matter how many men he forced me to sleep with, I never got pregnant. The doctors told me I was infertile, or nearly so. He beat me when he found out.

In the dream, however, I did manage to get pregnant, somehow. It belongs to a man that my brother had sold my time to for a night. Convinced it would be a perfect specimen, the child of a businessman and an assassin, outfitted with both brain and brawn. The baby was born deformed. He did to my child just what my father had tried to do with me when I was ten. He took it to the stables and held its head underwater until it died. He drowned what would surely be my only child. "It's for the good," he's said, "Poor specimen are menaces to this world. Everyone knows the deformed are filled with demons." I cried in my sleep, awaking to a wet pillow.

Max is shaking my shoulder, Sigmund is still asleep. I must have screamed in my sleep too and woke Max. "It's just a dream," he says, "You're ok." I nod and try to catch my breath.

"I know. I'm sorry I woke you. God, am I causing so much trouble today. What time is it?"

"Early. Or late, depending on how you like to look at it," he shrugs, not seeming too concerned with being woken. "Do you want a glass of water and to just go back to sleep or do you think you had better just stay up?" His tone portrays no bias.

"I think I shall stay up to avoid more... nightmares." I loathe the word. It makes me sound childish, I think.

Without another word, Max hoists himself up onto my bed which rests right above his and sits on the edge, legs dangling off. "What was it about?" I don't answer. "Sorry, um, wanna head downstairs? We could get you some food or something. Better atmosphere than a stuffy room, anyway."

I nod, then smile. "No handholding this time. I don't think I'll fall."

Max laughs under his breath. "Ok," he whispers. It only then occurs to me that I may be a little too loud. I blush.

The main room's large doors are closed as they always are at night. Just because the outside world can't see in doesn't mean the place is any less lively. Most everyone awake is at least slightly buzzed and it rubs off on the atmosphere in the best of ways. A giddy mirth radiates from the room in rays. I pass Max, taking the lead. I do need a drink.

Beth smiles at me. "Graveyard shift," I ask. She nods.

"Yep. The usual- barista's pick?" I nod.

"I'll have a brandy if I may." Beth nods and goes to collect our drinks as we choose two stools to sit at. I spot Mason as he walks in. He gives me a tight smile after glancing at Max. He must still worry. I wave him over.

He looks almost nervous as he approached. "We just ordered our drinks, sit," I pat the stool to my left.

"Tell me you're not getting absinthe at this hour," his laughter isn't genuine.

I shrug. "I'm at Beth's mercy, as usual."

"I pray she doesn't have you a death wish, then," his smile doesn't seem entirely forced, at least.

The inevitable awkward silence follows until Beth breaks in, bringing us our drinks. "And for you," she looks at Mason.

"Gin and juice, please." Beth nods curtly and leaves once more.