Thirteen's Thirteenth (NANOWRIMO 2019)

Chapter 8 - Pivotal

Chapter 8 - Pivotal

Listening to: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Lorde

My jaw hit the floor. Peering behind me, Oberon had disappeared.

"I'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Come in, come in."

My eyes nearly leaped from my skull. I wordlessly stepped into Dr. Tyme's office. He gestured to a small couch for me in front of his desk before taking his place behind it. I shifted in my seat nervously as he watched me, leaning over the table with his arms folded. Every conversation starter I had rehearsed was shot; I forgot them all.

"You know," he began, "your parents sat in that very seat seventeen years ago, shifting around uncomfortably just like you are now."

My voice was barely above a whisper. "You... you remember them?" I stuttered.

Dr. Tyme nodded. "Of course. It's not every day the world's most hated family comes wandering into your office." Most hated. My shoulders tightened at that. I couldn't tell whether or not he was kidding.

"Were you afraid?" I picked up the courage to ask. I sure was.

"Afraid of what?"

"My parents. It's alright if you were. I expect it. Most people are anyways."

He didn't answer right away, instead cocking his head out the side and pondering my question for a moment. With every second that passed, I grew more nervous. "Yes," he finally replied, and my stomach churned. "And no. Both. When I first realized they were of Family Thirteen, I was apprehensive. But your parents were so nervous and fearful of me and what I would think of them that it felt unbalanced to reciprocate the same feelings back to them. It occurred to me that such small people couldn't do much harm as everyone told me they would. Besides, it's my duty as a doctor to assist and care for any person who visits my office."

That caught me by surprise. "Did you ever tell anyone about their appointment?"

Dr. Tyme shook his head. "Only for logistical reasons. Nothing regarding family numbers."

"So logistical... there's a record of my birth in government databases?"

He frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Because the news is reporting that the death of my father in the car crash last month ended the Family Thirteen line. But it didn't. I'm still alive. So from what information are they drawing those conclusions?" My heart rate sped up.

Dr. Tyme shrank back into his chair. "My dear, I only give the tattoos. I'm not in charge of medical logs."

"Tattooing was your job seventeen years ago," I pressed him. "You're the head specialist for newborns now. You have been for nearly a decade."

"You've done your research." He was surprised.

I nodded. "I just assumed with your current head position within the child care department, you'd have some familiarity with the records process. You must have some influence on official affairs."

He sighed and gazed impassively at the floor, unable to meet my gaze. Something was wrong here, and he knew it. "What do you want from me?" His tone was defeated.

"Help me figure this out. Please. Give me some insight into whether or not I legally exist. You're the only one who knows who I am and where I come from. My parents are dead now. I have nowhere left to turn."

Dr. Tyme stared at me for a moment, studying my expression. I clenched my jaw, making sure it was hard and unwavering. I came determined to get answers, and he was my last hope at obtaining them. After a moment, he leaned forward and pried open his computer. I remained silent as he began typing. Then, he turned the screen to me so I could read it: