Our Contract of Distrust

-- 21 --

I found it. 

The metal box. I found it. 

Back under the bed where it had been at first. 

That snake really was audacious. 

I couldn't help but laugh about it. Bitterly. 

I was too sick of everything. Too sick of playing games. 

Feodor wasn't home yet. And I was sick of it all. 

So I found the hammer and took to the lock with all my frustrations. 

I kept pounding and pounding until the lock snapped and skittered across the floor. 

But now that I've come this far, I hesitate. 

I return the hammer to it's home to buy myself some time. 

Then I sit cross-legged in the middle of the bedroom floor with the box in front of me. 

For a while I just stare at it, as if the lid will open itself. 

Maybe I should call someone? 

Maybe I should take it and run? 

Eventually, with a deep breath, I steel myself and flick back the lid. 

A folded document peers back at me. I lift it tentatively. Suddenly aware that this might change everything. 

I unfold the stapled pages and skim over the front. 

Nadia Winters. Date of birth: September 12th, ****. Blood type: AB+. Height: 175cm. Weight: 56kg.

What was this? There really was some messed up file on me. 

Test results: positive.

Further testing required to validate results.

Under the file was a USB. What could be on it? 

I might have to get Trin to lend me her laptop. 

My eyes flick back to the document. 

Results indicate that subject is free of specified pathogens.

Antibody production shows promise.

What the hell was all of this talking about? 

I flick through the other pages of the file, stopping when a picture catches my attention. 

Was that... me? 

Looking half dead with a tube up my nose. 

"Nadia!" 

Feodor's in the room. I never heard him approaching. 

"What are you doing?!" his eyes are frenzied. "Give it to me." 

I shake my head. 

"What is- what did you-" somehow this is all I can get out. 

"Nadia, just put it down and come with me, okay?" 

Nothing makes sense, but for some reason my eyes are watering. "What the hell did you do?!" 

Feodor focuses on the page I have open and something like realisation flashes in his eyes. 

Suddenly he charges towards me and wrenches the papers from my hands. 

I fall roughly, my limbs jarring and cheek grazing the carpet. 

"I- I didn't mean to." Feodor says. 

He quickly shoves the pages back into the tin and thrusts it under the bed.