Docile

by K. M. Szpara

  Get on the bed.

  “I was nervous.”

  Don’t hide your body from me.

  “I’d never had sex with anyone, before.”

  “And how did you feel afterwards?”

  I see Alex’s bedroom as it was in January: imposing bed, soft sheets, dim lights. Inescapable. Hot.

  “Confused. Angry with myself.”

  “Why?”

  “I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to have enjoyed myself, or if I even did.”

  “Okay, what about the second time?”

  “I don’t remember it. I’m sorry.”

  “Which do you remember?”

  “I remember—” My breath catches in my throat.

  I’m at Bishop Labs, my cuff chained to a desk in Alex’s office suite, writing lines.

  I will control my attitude. I will not lie to Alex.

  The linens on his bed are white with a navy-blue monogram: “ABIII.” My fear replaced with his tongue and a bargain. My obedience for an orgasm. And I fucking said it.

  I’ll be your good boy.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, it wasn’t consensual. I didn’t want to tell Alex I would be his good boy, but I didn’t have a choice. We were at Bishop Labs, on his bed, and who was I among thousands of Dociles? How could I say no, when he controlled my family’s stipend?”

  “Do you remember any other times?”

  “At Mariah’s party—not with Alex. With Dutch Townsend and his Docile, but Alex expected me to.”

  “Didn’t you sign a consent form, though?”

  “What choice did I have but to sign it?” I snap at Verónica, as if she’s the one who made me sign it. “Should I have let the cops haul my family off to debtors’ prison?”

  “Objection,” Moore says.

  “Acknowledged.” Verónica doesn’t look at him. “Elisha, can you recall any of your later sexual encounters?”

  “At the hotel. The Douglass. I can’t remember if we actually had sex that evening, but we made out in the pool. The next morning, we definitely fu—” I suddenly remember I’m in a room full of attorneys. “Had sex.”

  “Would you describe either of those encounters as consensual?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you know?”

  “Please stop.” I dig the heels of my hands into the shiny wood table and squeeze my eyes shut. “Stop asking questions.”

  “Do you need a break?” Verónica asks.

  “No, I want to explain.”

  “Mr. Moore, do you object?”

  “Not yet,” he says.

  “Then the floor’s yours, Elisha.”

  Breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. Long, mindful breaths. Count:

  One, two three four five.

  Five, four, three, two, one.

  “I don’t know because I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay for a long time, but I didn’t want it to be true. Alex said I couldn’t love him back and—” I feel my voice waver. The prickly heat of tears. “He was right. You can’t love someone if they’re in control of you. Alex was in control of me.”

  “Objection,” Moore says, but no one stops me.

  I look at Alex as my vision blurs. “Love is equal. I don’t know what I felt, then. Loyalty, fear, adoration, safety. And now? He’s the only one who knows exactly what I went through. He changed me.”

  “I object to—”

  “We get it, Reginald,” Verónica snaps.

  “I’ve been struggling to adjust to life without Alex because I don’t know who I am without him. That’s not love. Partners are equal. You called us partners.” I talk to Alex as if he’s the only one in the room. He’s the only one who matters. “But we’re not.”

  “I know,” he whispers, his own eyes pink.

  “It’s too hard.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I stand up. The court reporter looks between me and Verónica and Mr. Moore. “Alex Bishop raped me. You want that word on the record, so there you have it. How could I consent when I had no choice but to say yes?”

  The court reporter’s hands still.

  “Are you getting this? This is what you all want—for me to realize how truly Alex fucked me up. Well, I have. Alex Bishop took advantage of my body and mind. But Lex Bishop put us in this position, and Alexandra Bishop before him, and the ODR before her. And I’m done being a part of it. This is over.”

  * * *

  Halfway to Empower Maryland, I stop and turn around. I don’t live there, anymore, and I don’t live on the farm. I live in Mount Vernon, in a painted building, with my family. They’ll only gloat, if I go home, now.

  God, I fucked that deposition up. Moore will probably get the whole thing thrown out—I can’t do that, again. I’m dry. These are onetime emotions. I need—I need—

  I open Dutch’s texts and repeat the address to myself. Think of the empty space with its double-door patio. No furniture. No people. Only sunlight and peace.

  I enter the code, the lock whirs, and the door opens. Alex leans against the kitchen counter, no longer wearing his suit jacket. His face red and blotchy. Hair erratic.

  He straightens when he sees me. “I thought you might come here.”

  I let go of the door. It slams shut behind me. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “I’ll leave.” He picks up his jacket.

  “No, wait.” I have to do this. I have to do it now, while we’re alone. While it means something. “I need to tell you something.”

  “I’m listening.” Alex sets down his jacket and clasps his hands.

  “I let Onyx hit me. He was helping me deprogram, but one day at dinner, I was so overwhelmed I almost lost it. But he knew what I needed. Showed me what healthy pain could feel like. Catharsis.” I’ve only heard that word, before, but it fits itself into my brain like the last piece of a puzzle.

  It takes all my concentration not to play with my cuff. I don’t want him to see me like that. Don’t want him to know that I still have the habits he gave me. “The other day, I asked Onyx to do it, again, and he said no. He said he shouldn’t have done it the first time, either, and he was sorry. He wouldn’t help me cheat. I hadn’t stopped to think it through.”

  “It’s okay,” Alex whispers.

  “Fuck.” I turn around. Face the long living room window. Feel the warm glow of afternoon sun on my face. The tickle of tears down my cheeks. I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes as if that will hold back the sobs.

  “I can’t be with you, anymore, Alex. You hurt me, even if I can’t always tell how. Which parts of me are me and which parts are you.” I squat down. My knees hit the floor.

  Over my own gross, wet wailing, I hear the pad of Alex’s feet as he comes closer. The soft thud of his knees on the floor beside me. Feel the warmth of his arms as he pulls me onto his lap and kisses my forehead and I allow it. Falling into him like water into a container; I fit.

  “I’m sorry.” I can’t stop myself saying it.

  “It’s okay,” Alex whispers against my skin. “This is okay.”

  “I’m so scared.”

  “That’s okay, too.” He wipes the hair from my face and kisses my temple. His lips are wet. “You’re going to do just fine without me, Elisha Wilder. You’re going to be amazing.”

  64

  ALEX

  Elisha falls asleep in my arms, on the floor. We lie together, unmoving as the sun sets, coloring the pale wooden floor orange, then red, then purple. I stay awake, trying to memorize his weight—as if I’ve never held him before—and the soft herbal scent of his hair where his head fits against my neck.

  The press of his fingertips against my shirt, where they held tight only a few hours ago. I should leave before he wakes up. He shouldn’t have to face me again—to feel like he needs to say anything. He’s already said it all. The truth.

  Gently, I untangle myself from Elisha. Slide my suit jacket under his head. Press one final ki
ss on his forehead.

  Leave.

  * * *

  As I ride the glass elevator down to the bottom floor of the Silo, Jess runs to meet me. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” she says before the door’s even fully open. “When you didn’t come back, yesterday, I worried they’d sent you away, again.”

  “Elisha broke up with me.”

  “Oh.” Her brow furrows. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m … not.” I walk with Jess to a small meeting room where Dylan lies on the table, hair like a dark corona around her face, feet propped on a chair. She tests the chair’s flexibility while she reads from a tablet, bending its back with her sneakers.

  “I’m heartbroken for a thousand reasons—most of which are my fault. But, more than that, I’m happy for Elisha. I really am.”

  Dylan drops the tablet on her chest. “Did he dump you?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He did.”

  She tilts her head back and shouts at the ceiling, “Thank god!”

  “I’m glad you’re both doing well.” Jess squeezes my shoulder. “Or well enough.”

  “Thanks.” I smile with closed lips. I know this is the right path—in my head and my heart. If I focus on helping Abigail and securing the win for Elisha, without getting myself sent back to Ellicott Hart, I may be able to forget the lingering hurt. “So, we have a place to work. Officially.”

  “Yeah?” Jess’ face lights up.

  Dylan sits up so fast, she kicks the chair over. “Will I get to go?”

  I fix my hands on my hips and take a deep breath, hoping the words will come to me before my lungs explode. They’re burning by the time I give in and answer, “I don’t know. I’m barely allowed to come and go, without a good excuse. Dociles don’t usually leave the Silo.”

  “Most of your Dociles wouldn’t know if they left the planet.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t make the rules, anymore. Ask Jess if you can come. She has more clout than I do.”

  Dylan swivels to face Jess. “Can I come?”

  “We’ll see,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Where is it? What is it?”

  “It’s an empty, first-floor apartment about ten minutes’ walk from here. I don’t think we’re going to have many chances with Abigail. She and her family moved into the city, so they’re close, but—”

  “My mom, too?” Dylan jumps to her feet.

  “I haven’t been to see them, but I assume. She’s part of the family.”

  “I’m going. I’m going to see Abigail and my mom.”

  “We can’t tell Nora about this; I’m sorry. That’s a hard line. No one can know.”

  “But she’s so close.”

  “I know.” Jess puts her arm around Dylan’s shoulder. Jess never touches people unless she’s really close with them. “Alex is right, though. If she thinks we’re hurting or taking advantage of Abigail—all it would take is an ounce of distrust for this to end. We’ve got to think of Abigail, of former Dociles in her situation, and everyone on Dociline. After that, I’ll see what we can arrange with your family.”

  “Fine.” Dylan leans sideways into Jess’ hug. “How can I help?”

  “You can be my lab assistant.” Jess smiles with a mischievousness I don’t normally see from her.

  “What does it pay?” Dylan asks.

  Jess raises her eyebrows at me.

  “This is off the books and I don’t have access to my own bank accounts, so—”

  “Fifty dollars an hour,” Jess says, “full medical coverage.”

  “I’m a Docile. You’re required to cover my medical expenses.”

  “Okay, you two.” I step between them. “We have a ton of work to do. Jess, can you text Elisha? Arrange to meet him and his mother at our safe house. We need some of her blood.”

  65

  ELISHA

  I wake up sore and alone. Face tight with the salt of dried tears. The scent of Alex lingers as I sit up from the floor.

  His jacket. I shouldn’t take it—and, yet, I can’t stand to throw it away. I stand and fold it. Place it in one of the kitchen cupboards. I’m grateful he left me this peace.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. Empower Maryland gave it to me after Verónica insisted I remove the one Alex put in the roof of my mouth. Dozens of missed calls and texts fill the screen, from Verónica and Nora and Onyx and Eugenia. Only one from Dutch that says: You don’t owe anyone anything. Take your time.

  I clutch the phone to my chest as if it’s my own beating heart. There is someone I owe something: me. I owe myself a goal. One that isn’t tied to Alex or my family. I could help people—people like me. Debtors.

  I scroll through my few contacts, ignoring the constant feed of messages. My thumb rests on Eugenia’s name. She’ll be able to point me in the right direction. Bet she’ll even be impressed I’m taking the initiative.

  “Hey, Elisha,” she says, answering the phone. “I’m glad to hear from you. I heard you left your deposition—”

  “I did.” I cut her off. “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about it, right now.” I lock doors. I ask questions. I set boundaries. “I’m okay.”

  “Well.” She sounds surprised. Hopefully, good surprised. “I’m glad to hear that. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Yes, I’ve been thinking of ways I can work on myself. Figure out what I want to do.”

  “Okay.”

  Just say it. She might think it’s stupid, but if I don’t say it, it’ll never happen. “I want to apply for a job helping debtors, at the ODR.” The words barrel out of me, and are met with silence. It’s a fight not to rush to fill the space before Eugenia finally speaks.

  “I think it’s great that you want a job, but I’m not so sure about the ODR.”

  My fears settle at the base of my throat. They force out my “Why?”

  “The ODR is aligned with Bishop Labs, Elisha. You know that.”

  “My former caseworker reports to you all.” Carol’s the one who told Empower Maryland I was going to refuse Dociline, in the first place. She’s the reason Eugenia slipped me that card—the card Alex found. Spent seventy minutes in confinement—Stop. I need to stop thinking about that. I need to not punish myself for thinking about it, either.

  “Carol has been helping Empower Maryland for many years. She provides us valuable insider information. It’s a risky job. I’d rather not put you back in the enemy’s grasp.”

  “Okay,” I say because I don’t know what else. Sometimes Eugenia makes me feel powerless, again.

  “Hey, I have an idea.” Energy courses through her voice. “Why don’t you come work for us? We pay everyone a living wage. You’d get to directly help debtors without being overseen by the Bishops. I think we have an opening in our donations closet. The job’s yours, if you want it.”

  “Sure,” I say, before I have time to think. “That sounds great.” Is it? It’s true I’ll be helping debtors and I hadn’t thought about the ODR working with Bishop Labs, but Eugenia gave me the donations job without asking what I was interested in. I didn’t even have to apply. Instead, I’m still doing as I’m told.

  * * *

  Jess drives to our neighborhood—I like that we’re neighbors—parks, and walks up to my family’s new apartment with me. When our doorperson calls me “Mr. Wilder,” Jess snickers.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re very fancy, now.”

  “I am not.” I try not to blush as we step into the elevator. “But I like when people use my last name. I didn’t have one for six months.”

  “I get it,” she says. Sometimes I forget Jess was a Docile, too.

  The elevator dings our arrival.

  “Nice building,” she says, following me.

  “Thanks. I have to warn you, though.” I unlock my front door, clenching my stomach and shoulders as I prepare for anything. “I’m not sure who’s home.”

  The door creaks open.

  “Maybe no one,” Jess whispers. If she thought th
ere was no one, she wouldn’t whisper.

  Bare feet swish down the hallway and Abby slides into the living room. “Oh.” She stops. “Hey, Elisha.”

  “Hey.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is my friend Jess. Jess, this is my sister, Abby.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jess smiles and nods a half bow, like she often does with strangers.

  “You too,” Abby says, cautiously. “How do you know each other?”

  Jess and I look at each other. Should we lie? We don’t need to lie. I don’t want to—I want things to be good between us, again. Abby is my sister.

  “I was a Docile, too,” Jess says. “When I was a girl. Now, I work with them.”

  I hold my breath.

  “Cool,” Abby says. Then, to me, “You didn’t come home, last night.”

  “No. I had something to take care of.” Please don’t make me explain. I can’t think about Alex, right now.

  “Okay,” she says, to my relief. “Dad and Nora aren’t going to be home for a while. He’s taking care of some paperwork so I can go to a city school, and Nora’s with a career counselor. Can I help you with anything?” She asks as if she was scared to. I know that, now. Just like I’m trying, so is everyone else.

  “No, thank you.” I shouldn’t stay angry with my sister. She wants to help me. She wants—she wants to help. “Actually, can you keep a secret?”

  Jess shoots me a look.

  “It’ll be fine. We can trust her.”

  “Trust me with what?”

  “Let’s sit down.” I perch on the edge of a firm emerald-green ottoman. Slowly, Abby sits on the matching couch. Jess leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at me. “I really appreciate that you’re trying to help me, but I’m not sure you’re the right person, if that makes sense?” I tuck my hair behind my ears, nervous she won’t understand. If I didn’t love her, I wouldn’t have put myself through all this, in the first place. I hope she knows that.

  Abby purses her lips and eyes Jess, as if she’s come to take her place. “If that’s what you want. Is this about the room? I can share with Mom if you need your own space.”