Violet Path

by Olivia Lodise

  I hated him. He was a monster. I wanted to squeeze every ounce of air out of him. I clenched my jaw and remained passive, but I was on the verge of breaking. I nodded and looked away. I didn’t understand how someone could be so sadistic.

  “Good. Your first class starts now.” Matthew’s voice was light and joyful.

  A man walked in and saluted Matthew. He then looked at me strangely. As he started to release my ankles, the surrounding soldiers raised their guns. I felt dangerous, powerful. I stood up and felt my legs crumble beneath me as the blood flow started again.

  “The soldiers stay,” Matthew announced, then stepped out, and the heavy metal door slammed shut. I was completely trapped.

  The man circled around and around. I waited silently until I couldn’t stand the sound of his footsteps on the metal floor. “So who are you? And what am I learning today?” I asked casually, because there was no way that I would respect Matthew or his minions.

  “I’m Morgan. I trained Maxime and now you. You will learn all you need to know about your abilities and limits. Nothing will be overlooked,” Morgan said in a serious voice.

  Before I could ask my following question, he spun around and launched a knife at me. I surprised myself by moving to the side and blocking the weapon without getting injured. I naturally had good reflexes, but that had really shocked me. Then it dawned on me: Matthew was replacing Maxime with me, so I had to undergo the same training and surgeries. It also explained why Matthew needed me to sleep in the cell, surrounded by doctors and scientists.

  “Good, good. It’ll improve. Don’t worry; you’ll be able to catch the blade when I’m through with you. Now class will really begin,” Morgan said. He reminded me of Anton and Nick, only his voice was deeper, and his eyes didn’t reflect a soul or thought, but a programmed robot. As encouraging as his words might have been, I didn’t trust him.

  He lectured me for hours while he had me run around the cell. Not only was I tiring, but I wasn’t interested in his words. When he finished, dinner was offered, although it still felt like no later than three in the afternoon. I didn’t appreciate the haphazard, meaningless act of kindness, but I was starved.

  After being served chicken, rice, and a mix of vegetables with exotic spices along with a pitcher of water, I was seated and strapped down once more. There was no way I would get used to it, even if the food was delicious. The same doctor as before forced a needle into my vein in my left elbow. I watched as he pressed on the top of the syringe and the anesthetics were pushed into me. I tried to think of a way to resist, to avoid being dehumanized, but I was left blank, empty. He pulled the needle out and left. The soldiers tightened their circle around me. My eyelids felt heavy, and my mind cleared itself quickly, welcoming fantasy and hope. I let go and flew to ethereal freedom.

  Chapter 41

  At first I didn’t notice the changes until I was tested to see if the procedures were actually working. I started to recognize footsteps, anticipate gestures along with their reactions, and I rarely struggled with physical challenges regardless of their abnormal difficulty. I hated it. My brain wouldn’t rest. It was always telling me how many seconds were left in the passing minute, the distance between me and whoever was coming toward me, or the notes they hit when speaking. It was extreme concentration nonstop.

  I tried to talk Matthew and Morgan out of it and to train me instead, but they would only increase the amount of anesthetics. I turned to the doctor, but he was completely lifeless, manipulated, controlled by Matthew. I started to give in slowly, not knowing what other options I had.

  I hadn’t seen real, natural, radiant light for ages, and not only had I grown pale like a ghost, but I also felt like I was suffocating without the fresh, clean air. I missed the burning sun, the cool wind that had once rushed up my neck playfully, and the light, pure air that would filter my lungs. I begged to have a lesson outdoors whenever I was given the opportunity to speak, but it was always denied.

  I had a strict schedule with specific lesson plans and sensitive time limits. Even restroom breaks and showering were given restricted times, and I was always surrounded by a squad of loyal, dehumanized soldiers.

  I didn’t fear much other than losing my mind to Matthew and the destruction he caused. I even learned not to fear Matthew in person or the emotional and physical torture that came with his presence. Regardless of my adaptations, I was not intrepid and felt my memories being threatened. Every time I closed my eyes, I put every drop of effort into piecing together an image of Maxime. I imagined his soft touch and sweet lips, but every remembrance became nothing but gossamer dreams like dust in the wind. I lost him and my heart along with it. I had nothing left. I was broken.

  I did my best not to despair, but days went by, weeks followed, then months, and finally a year. Christmas and New Year meant nothing to H.S.H.S., but to me it meant everything. It was the perfect snow, with glimpses of Maxime’s reflection on the glittering ice, David and Ryan’s vague memories, and finally knowing my brother. But also the barren, white fields stained in raspberry-colored blood, scattered by Matthew’s footsteps and torn by his hand of steel. It marked the changing of my life, both death and life. It was the horizon kept afar by raging emotions varying from love to hate. It was emerged in denial, for I wanted to hold onto it with all my heart, but needed to let it go. I needed to forget. I needed to move on.

  Sadly, Maxime’s face started to fade. I couldn’t see his eyes, his chiseled jawline, his jet-black curls. I couldn’t smell his scent, that fresh scent of the forest. And as every day passed, Maxime slowly faded.

  Last time I had heard the date, it had been March 25, and then July 7. Time passed quickly, but it was still impossible to track. Matthew made living unbearable. I even started to think Maxime had forgotten me. I had left him, but I had secretly hoped for him to save me from H.S.H.S. As time sped by, I wasn’t sure he was ever going to come.

  “Good morning, Alexia,” Matthew said one day. “Today, you get to make a decision. I am giving you a choice.”

  I wanted some freedom, some say in what happened, but he wouldn’t offer me what I’d desired. Six soldiers walked in dragging two men with bound hands and feet.Their heads hung low, hiding their faces in the shadows. I feared what was going to happen as I tried desperately to see who they were. I didn’t want to recognize them.

  The men were seated in front of me. One man was bleeding from the head and stomach with deep cuts along his limbs. His blond hair was caked in blood. The other man had red hair and was only slightly injured with a few bruises and cuts. The soldiers pulled their hair and forced their heads up. I choked. The blond-haired man was John from my group at The Shadows. I didn’t know the other captive, but John’s presence was already more than enough motivation for me to watch my choice of words with Matthew around.

  I looked away, hoping John wouldn’t open his eyes and look at me. I couldn’t face him or explain anything. He was only a pawn Matthew was using against me.

  Matthew took his gun out of his holster and walked over to me. He uncuffed my hands, then tied them together in front of me. He placed the gun between my palms and lifted my arms up so I was aiming at the two prisoners. I glared at Matthew. I couldn’t and wouldn’t pull the trigger.

  “This is a fellow named John, who we managed to capture only a few days ago. He hasn’t been very cooperative as you can see. He’s from The Shadows, so I suspect you know him. This is Caelan, who was taken late last night from Lisba. I have repeated myself time and time again that I do not appreciate having to waste our provisions with prisoners, but because of your unusual softness, I will grant you one spared life. You shoot the one you think deserves it the most and the other lives. You have two minutes to decide; otherwise, they will both be disposed of. The choice is yours.” Matthew smiled at me as tears clouded my vision.

  I couldn’t kill either of them. I wasn’t in the position to choose who lived and who died. I wasn’t to play God. I couldn’t murder, but I couldn’t ha
ve two corpses instead of one. Could John understand? Could he forgive me? Was Caelan a good soul who would survive? I couldn’t choose. It wasn’t up to me to make the decision.

  “I can’t,” I cried as the gun trembled in my hands.

  “Yes, you will!” Matthew yelled, pounding on my chair. He wasn’t human.

  John opened his eyes. He knew who I was, but I couldn’t tell if he understood my position or situation. I needed to speak to him. I wanted to ask him what I should do. I needed forgiveness for what I was demanded to perform: an execution. He looked at me with sorrow, regret, and everything in between, as though the whole world’s grief rested solely in his large, despondent eyes. I shook my head and lowered the gun.

  Caelan had been watching me, hoping and wishing he would be spared. His gleaming eyes flickered with life and energy, but he lacked passion and empathy. His blank stare was of pure fear without the slightest thought of John’s life’s value.

  “One minute,” Matthew announced, and I begged for mercy. He couldn’t force me to do anything of the sort, but I couldn’t let him kill both. I closed my eyes as Matthew started to count down. I needed to decide, but I couldn’t raise the gun or pull the trigger. I couldn’t take someone’s life. If Matthew hadn’t been standing behind me, I could have gladly taken his life, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

  “Ten, nine, eight . . .” Matthew’s voice rang in my ears.

  “Seven, six, five . . .” I tried to release the weapon but couldn’t.

  “Four, three . . .” I couldn’t live with it if both died. I had to choose.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry . . .” I whispered louder and louder, denying what had to be done.

  “Two . . . one.”

  The shot resonated in the room, blasting my eardrums. I kept my eyes shut, unable to see what I had done. I couldn’t believe I had fallen to Matthew. I had become his submissive, mercenary marionette. I had killed for him, his pleasure, his cruel, sadistic, demon soul.

  Matthew pulled the gun from my hands, and I dropped to my knees. I needed another bullet for myself. I couldn’t live with what I had done.

  “Good. Now look at what you’ve done and understand that it was right. Blood always needs to be shed for something else to live. Look! Be proud! You made the decision! Stand by it!” Matthew pulled my hair back, forcing my head up. Through my tears I saw a pool of blood at my feet. “Look!” Matthew repeated, tugging on my hair.

  I moved my eyes slightly, examining the body before me—blond hair stained by thick blood, and its mirror eyes vacantly gazed back at me.

  Chapter 42

  Days passed before Matthew returned to visit me again. I went through the days like a robot, just doing what they told me to do. I had no fight left in me. I cried myself to sleep every night.

  One morning, Morgan brutally woke me up with a slap across my cheek. Matthew walked in with someone I barely recognized: Nick.

  He had his hands cuffed behind him and an electric collar around his neck, choking him. His clothes were worse than rags, hardly covering his skeleton. His hair was oily, running down his face, blending into his thick beard. Dirt was smeared across his eyes, and rusted blood flaked around the multiple gashes along his jaw and up his arms. He was bent over, limping. His eyes were deep and piercing, but he looked dead.

  Matthew pushed him to the ground in front of me and held a gun to his temple.

  “Wait!” I screamed, but I was unable to stand as I was restrained to the chair. “What has he done?” I asked.

  “What’s his name?” Matthew asked with a sharp pinch in his voice. He knew he was in full control.

  “I don’t know,” I lied and looked away.

  “What’s his name?” he yelled.

  “How am I supposed to know?” I cried. I couldn’t lose Nick.

  “Then it is indifferent to you.”

  Matthew charged the gun, ready to shoot, tempting me.

  “What if he has family?” I blurted. Nick’s eyes widened with fear. I had made the biggest mistake.

  “What does that change?” Matthew smirked, but his eyes betrayed him. He had let a small, but strong flicker of empathy shimmer in his eyes. He glanced down to the golden band wrapped around his finger.

  “What has he done?” I repeated firmly.

  “As if you didn’t know. He’s from your beloved Shadows but was foolish enough to run in here with a tracking device. Unfortunately, his friends perished in the crossfire. He, on the other hand, has been experiencing our hospitality for the past couple weeks,” Matthew said evilly.

  “At least I now know I’ve been receiving the same treatment as your best soldier,” remarked Nick with a faint smile.

  Matthew pulled the trigger and shot Nick’s right knee. Nick screamed in pain as if his throat had been skinned, and I looked away.

  “Tell me why he was sent here. What did he come for?” Matthew said in a calm voice.

  “I don’t know!” I couldn’t bear watching Nick roll around at my feet in anguish, but I didn’t know what to do.

  “Then I guess there’s no use keeping him. He’s only wasting our prison cells and winter provisions. He doesn’t talk much anyway.” Matthew charged the gun again.

  “Why now? Why did you bring him to me now? You said he’s been here for weeks, so why now?” I said frantically.

  Matthew dropped his arm and gazed at the floor, surprised by my question.

  “Because he’s being attacked and not doing too well. He thought he was superior, had advantages . . .” Nick laughed, but was kicked in his ribs. He coughed blood at my feet. “He’s desperate . . .”

  Matthew glared at him as he stepped on his bleeding knee; Nick screeched in agony.

  “Stop!” I yelled. The sight of torture was unbearable.

  “Why did he challenge me?” Matthew asked as he put more pressure on Nick’s leg.

  “I don’t know!” I repeated honestly.

  “That’s not good enough, Alexia. Maybe his blood on your hands will trigger your memory. Or will it take more deaths and bodies? Please tell me now so I can accommodate your need.” Matthew’s tone was sadistic, and a tormented smile ran across his face.

  Matthew took a knife from one of his soldiers and glided his finger along its clean blade. He pulled Nick up and held the knife against his throat. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had to do something, anything!

  “Last chance, Alexia. What’s so important to The Shadows that they are willing to challenge me? Your words for his head. A fair price.” Matthew’s purple eyes were blazing.

  “I–I . . .”

  “Three seconds and we move onto some lucky guy named Sebastian,” announced Matthew. He started to slowly count down, and I panicked.

  “I don’t know!” I cried. “I haven’t been there for a year! What do you want me to say?” I couldn’t breathe anymore.

  “Tell me why they came!” Matthew’s face was bright red like a rose in bloom. He pressed the barrel of the gun against Nick’s chest, next to his heart, still holding onto the blade, suggesting there was more to fear. “Two . . .”

  “They wanted your plans! They’d heard of the major attack you planned for April and are trying to prevent it from happening,” I blurted out the first lie that came to mind.

  Matthew paused. He bought it and relief settled my heart as he stopped counting. Matthew then pulled the knife across Nick’s cheek and threw him to a soldier to haul him out.

  “Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Matthew held my wrists and glared at me. My heart raced. He took the blade and thrust it against my cheek, drawing blood. It stung, biting through the layers of skin.

  “That’s a reminder that life rests in my hands and how you roll the dice when your friends’ lives are on the line.”

  Matthew turned around and called in the doctor. Nothing could take away the wonderful feeling of having saved Nick’s life. I was in heaven for the moment.

  “Prep her fo
r the last procedure. I want it done in fifteen minutes,” said Matthew.

  The doctor approached me, unstrapped my left arm, and pulled my sleeve up before refastening the lock. He then got a sterilizer and cleared my left hand before taking a permanent marker and drawing out a capital “M.” I panicked. Flashes of Maxime’s scarred hand whirled through my mind. I knew what the last procedure was: programming and rewiring my brain.

  That was my limit. Matthew could beat me as much as he wanted, even skin me alive, lock me up, and tie me down, but he couldn’t take my memories away. He couldn’t cut that last string that tied me to life, to Maxime.

  “Please, Matthew! I’ll train harder! I promise.” I tried to talk him out of it, but he just stood in the corner of the room, staring at my hand.

  I begged and pleaded for the doctor to stop, but he wasn’t programmed to obey my orders.

  “Matthew!” I screamed, but he didn’t even blink. “Why now? Just wait a little longer. I’ll do better. Please!”

  “Why? Because you’ve reached the peak of your learning curve. You came back from The Shadows simply above average, but now, in theory, you’re undefeatable. And I need an heir. So, here we are, getting this done now.”

  I started to fight the shackles that kept me still, but all it did was hurt me. Tears streamed down my face.

  “Matthew, I’ve listened to you, I answered and obeyed. I don’t need a computer in my brain. Please! This is ridiculous. Come on!” I cried for him to put an end to it, but he laughed.

  “No, you lied. Nick didn’t come for plans, because you’re the only one who knew of the plan. The rest of H.S.H.S. doesn’t even know, so he couldn’t have come to prevent an attack that he wasn’t warned of.”

  I had trouble swallowing. “Then why did you let him live?” I was running on precarious grounds. There was always a reason for his choices, but this time it wasn’t logical, and I had run into the trap.