I THOUGHT THAT I loved her. I really did. She was quiet, strong, kind. She was a good listener, willing to listen to anything you have to say. In my case, that was a lot of complaining. I complained about how much I missed my parents and Anthony, how much I hated The Choice, but she made it worth it.
I sounded like a creep, but she did. She understood me, but didn't make fun of my condition. She didn't treat like a sick kid, she didn't pity me.
How could I have been so stupid? I touched her face. Why did I touch her face? She looked terrible, her eyes were swollen and bruised, her lip and eyebrows were split. Her nose and forehead were coated in dried blood.
I felt bad for her, not in a pitiful way, but in a genuine way. Her screams were the worst part of it all, I heard them all the way from the cell that we shared. When she returned that night, her face was tear stained and she didn't say a word. She stopped talking after the first week of being here. What had she seen?
I began to gave up, we couldn't fight the Doctors, we couldn't fight the experiments. Maria had already given up, I guessed that she was right.
YOU ARE READING
Faultless: A Utopian Love Story
Science Fiction100 READS - August 7, 2020 200 READS - December 18, 2020 250 READS - January 16, 2021 275 READS - March 12, 2021 300 READS - March 15, 2021 350 READS - March 25, 2021 400 READS - March 31, 2021 500 READS - April 30, 2021 600 READS - September 13, 20...
