Darkness (II)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"Relax, Isa. Just breathe."

The surgeon's face swam in my vision, half-obscured by the blinding overhead lights. He was holding my hand, trying desperately to comfort me. It wasn't working. My mind was roiling, turning in on itself, screaming that this was wrong; screaming, in a language I couldn't quite understand, that I was about to lose something very, very special.

The metal slab was cold against my back. Cold, smooth, and merciless. My trembling hands became fists.

"This will be over before you know it, I promise." he said. Despite his gentle words, his eyes were as guarded as ice.

"What are you doing?" I whimpered.

Father had carried me into the medical room, muttering about how it was time, about how this was right for me. I was scared. I didn't understand what was happening. I wasn't injured. Why on earth did I need an operation?

"We're planting a silver chip in your brain, Isa. We're hoping it will be a more permanent method of dealing with the headaches." he replied.

"But I have my pills."

He didn't answer at first. He was too busy conversing quietly with his assistant, who'd taken the needle in her hand. Hysteria and absolute fear bubbled in my throat. This was wrong. I felt it in my bones.

"You will still have to take your pills but this should make the headaches far less frequent." he eventually answered, his voice no longer as soothing as it was before. Now there was a hard edge to his words—whether spurred by impatience or concentration, I wasn't sure—and I knew that if I pestered him further, he'd inform my father.

A different brand of fear filled me. I pressed myself further against the slab and looked up, tears gathering in my eyes. The light was too harsh. It made me feel sick. I didn't like this. I couldn't do it; I couldn't handle it, no matter how desperately I tried to quell the furious hammer of my heart—

And then I felt it.

The tiny, inconsequential prick of a needle in my wrist.

I looked down, dread making my limbs feel like deadweight. The cannula seemed so stark against my flesh. So...foreign.

"Alright, Isa. Count down from ten for me."

I didn't want to. I didn't want any of this. I wanted to leave but I couldn't.

So I counted.

"Ten...nine...eight..."

The words felt like sand in my mouth. I was still staring at the light, resignation worming its way into my mind. It turned my panicked thoughts to dust.

"Seven...six..."

I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep.

"...five...four..."

So I slept.

*****

"...so this is our meeting room where—yes, you guessed it, you genius—we have meetings. It's pretty cool, I know...WHY ISN'T ANYONE FUCKING LISTENING TO ME?"

I jumped and looked apologetically at Lexus. He and Vilkov had decided to take me on a tour of the pack house before I officially moved into Phoenix's room and, in turn, my role as Luna. As much as I appreciated their help, my memory-imbued dream was yet to fade from my mind. I found myself mulling over each and every detail, searching for an explanation that'd never been there.