Something for your Mind

chapter 6

Beads of sweat were accumulating on my forehead.
    
The veins in my arms were presumably splitting out of my skin. It sure felt like it, at least, with the amount of force I was putting.
    
Who knew that using a can opener could be so hard?
    
With a few final bursts of power, the tin lid popped off, and a few drops of soup spilled from the edge. I sighed, and wiped the broth from the ceramic countertop with a swipe of my hoodie sleeve. I'd wash it later that night.

Laundry hadn't been done since a few days before my mom left, and the steadily growing pile of clothes on my bedroom floor was getting a little too high for my liking. I hadn't had the time to do anything at all, between caring for mourning Emelia and watching out for Carmen.

Emelia was beginning to worry me. She'd stopped crying a few days ago, but she'd also stopped feeling every other emotion. I suspected that the demons clawed their way into her brain too.
    
I was pouring the soup into a pot to boil as Emelia sauntered into the kitchen. I stayed focused on the forming bubbles in the pot, hiding my surprise. She hadn't left her room in two days.
    
"Hi Emelia, I'm just making us some chicken noodle soup," I said, keeping my voice even.

I let my eyes shift their gaze to her. Her dark hair was greasy and matted, sticking out in unnatural ways. She wore a pale pink bathrobe with plaid fuzzy pyjama pants. I hadn't seen her change from that outfit since the night of my mom and Avelyns disappearance.
    
She answered with a low grunt and sat down on her chair at the table. One hand rubbed at her temples, shielding her face.

I stared at the table for a moment, with the black paint gradually peeling off to reveal the old wood beneath it. It was becoming a greater risk for splinters everyday, and I wondered if I could learn to fix it. I pushed it out of my mind and turned my attention back to Emelia, and the soup. I stirred the pot mindlessly.
   
"So..." I cleared my throat. "How are you feeling?"
    
For a moment, there was nothing, and I figured she was going to ignore the question. But then she let out a quiet sigh.

"Hopeless," she croaked.

Sympathy pooled inside me. I knew that feeling all too well.
    
"Emelia... do you think you could be depressed?"
    
She pulled her head away from her hand and gave me a weird look. "I heard you talking to your mom about that. I've never heard of it," she said, wrinkling her nose.
     
I decided I might as well go all in. "You can still have it without knowing what it is," I pointed out.
    
She shook her head. "If the doctors don't even know what it is, I don't see how it can be anything except something that was made up a million years ago."
     
"Of course robots wouldn't understand mental illness! They're robots." My tone rose helplessly. Why was everyone incapable of comprehending that robots don't have feelings?
     
"They were designed to be way smarter than humans. If you put it into perspective, they know more than a sixteen-year-old boy, Mason." She yawned. "I'm just grieving for my daughter, my brain is fine," she said tiredly.
     
I gave up then. "We'll find her," I said for the millionth time, with not an ounce of confidence to be uncovered.
     
"Uh huh," she mumbled under her breath. I separated the soup into two plastic bowls, placing one on the table in front of Emelia. I kept my own in one hand and shovelled noodles into my mouth with the other, still standing.
     
I heard the door fly open, and my heart stopped. Not from fear, but because a small part of me thought that my mother would stride into the kitchen, Avelyn safe and content in her arms. The gasp coming from Emelia suggested that she had the same idea.

Instead, Carmen stumbled in, heaving and coughing. I froze, and Emelia sighed heavily in despair. I glared at the girl in front of me, her blonde curls pulled back in a ponytail for the first time that I ever saw.
     
"Mason," she panted, "Did you say that your mom went missing?"
     
My mouth fell agape, and Emelia jumped to her feet. "Who the hell are you?" She demanded icily.