MILA 2.0: Renegade

by Driza, Debra

  I rose on unsteady feet, took a halting step toward the door, then cursed my weakness. Waiting, waiting, waiting . . .

  A soft knock finally sounded, and the sigh that escaped my lips was half sob, half laugh.

  “Mila? It’s Hunter.”

  His voice was soft, a little hoarser than usual. Raw. The sound formed a noose around my chest and tightened, bunching every bit of longing and need together, until I thought I might implode.

  “Come in.”

  The door slowly pushed open, and there he was.

  Even though I’d seen him briefly earlier, the sight of him there, in my doorway, all floppy hair and hesitant smile and anxious fingertips, drumming his thigh, made my entire body shudder.

  He carefully edged inside, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. His lips parted, like he wanted to speak, but no words came. But it was his eyes I watched with complete fascination. His eyes that made my heart begin to rev, slowly at first, but with an ever increasing frequency. A pumping, beating, bursting beacon of hope.

  Because his eyes, they weren’t full of disgust, or fear, or even anger. No, in the depths of his faded blue eyes, I saw a longing that was echoed deep in my core. Or, if I were being poetic—my soul.

  My feet demanded that I run to him; my arms wanted nothing more than to fly around him and never let him go. But it was always me, running to him. Always me, foisting myself on others—all except for Quinn. I couldn’t force the choice this time. He had to come to me, freely.

  Like I’d willed it so, he started to move toward me, his eyes locked with mine. Everything else in the room felt like it froze, like the world ceased to exist except for the two of us. One step closer, two. He was only a few paces away now, and then he paused.

  Noooo!

  The word rebounded in my head, so loud, I was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

  I braced myself for the rejection I knew had to follow.

  “Maybe we could just start over. Hi, I’m Hunter Lowe. My parents are crazy people who take part in secret underground technology-stealing, and use me as their unwitting dupe to get info. Oh, and don’t forget—I like really crappy TV.”

  He smirked, lifted a brow, and gave me a pointed look.

  It was hard at first. Even now, knowing that he knew, that everything was out in the open once and for all, it was so incredibly, heartbreakingly, painfully hard to get the first words out. But once I started, the tightness in my chest eased. Like each word I spoke released a tiny bit of pressure, until nothing remained but freedom.

  “Hi, I’m Mila, and I’m an android. I was made in a lab, but even though I’m mostly machine, I feel like a real person.” The freedom was invigorating, so I continued. “I’m still figuring out who and what I am, how I work, what I need. Most of the time, I’m confused. But I do know one thing for sure. When I told you I loved you, I wasn’t lying. You, Hunter Lowe, are the best thing in this crazy, messed-up life of mine. When I’m with you, I feel alive.”

  He reached out, and with one gentle finger, traced a line down my cheek. Then, both hands were gingerly cupping my face, and his smile was pure sunlight. “It’s nice to meet you, Mila.”

  “How are you holding up?” I asked him. I knew all too well what he must be going through, and to be honest, he seemed to be handling things way better than I ever did.

  “I think I’m in shock.” His hands slipped away from my face and grasped my hands. “It’s like I’m living in some kind of alternate reality, or like I’m watching myself from outside my body. I guess I don’t quite know how to explain it.”

  “You don’t need to,” I said.

  “I just want to pretend like this isn’t happening. Like all of this is a dream and when I wake up, we’ll be back in Virginia Beach.”

  We. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear him say that word again.

  Suddenly, a woman’s voice called out from the hall. “Hunter! Peyton needs you.”

  Startled, his hands fell away from mine and he half-turned toward his mom, who continued her approach. “Can he wait a few minutes?”

  She smiled easily. “I’m afraid not.”

  He turned back to me, and his smile, his wonderful lopsided, off-kilter smile, reappeared. “Sorry. We’ll talk more later.”

  “Okay.”

  He strode toward the door. “You coming?” he said, when he reached his mom.

  “In a few. Quinn wanted me to pass on a few things to Mila first.”

  She walked into my room, and I hastily straightened my rumpled shirt, nerves aflutter. A silly, insignificant thing, I knew, but this was Hunter’s mom, and even though I knew her to be the kind of person who would manipulate and con her own child, I still wanted to make the best impression possible. I’d sort of already blown the whole totally-normal-girl thing by virtue of being an android and all, so I had to try to make up with brownie points wherever I could.

  “Would you like to sit down?” I said, darting over to pull out a chair. Her hand on my shoulder stilled me.

  “Why don’t we both sit down here?”

  I lowered myself gingerly to the bed next to her and waited while she did the same.

  “Are you settling in okay?” She fidgeted on the edge of the bed, her gaze darting toward the door.

  I shrugged. I noticed a lightness in my shoulders, my posture, as if a massive burden had just been lifted. Hunter and I might have a long way to go to reclaim our fledgling relationship, but at least the potential was there.

  “Better than expected, all things considered.”

  Her smile reminded me of Hunter’s: slightly off-kilter, but full of genuine warmth. “Good, I’m glad.” She patted me on the shoulder before returning her hands to her lap. She inhaled and the smile fled.

  I frowned. “What’s wrong? Does Quinn have bad news?”

  The hands in her lap clenched tightly. “Actually, I’m afraid I do. Mila, I wanted to get you alone because I wanted to talk to you about Hunter. Has he told you anything about his past?”

  “You mean, about his real dad?”

  She nodded. “So you know. Good. I think that will make what I have to say easier.” She smiled again, but this time, her eyes were sad. “Mila, I see how you feel about Hunter, and how he feels about you.”

  She paused, and I sat quietly, trying to pretend like my stomach hadn’t just flipped with joy. How he felt about me? Did that mean he still felt the same way?

  She gave a harsh sigh and appeared to square her shoulders. As if prepping herself for something. “I see it, and it just can’t go on.”

  My stomach crashed hard. “What do you mean?”

  She averted her gaze. “I think you know what I mean. Hunter’s been through a lot. His dad, who’s a horrible human being; adjusting to a stepdad; then this, which I’m sure he sees as another betrayal. He deserves a chance at a normal life, a happy life. He might seem strong to you, but I’ve seen the wounds his father left on him. They run deep.”

  I curled my fingers into the bedding, my throat tightening. “But I would never hurt him—”

  “Not on purpose, I’m sure,” she interjected. “But haven’t you already hurt him, by lying?”

  One strike to my heart.

  “What about his arm?”

  Two.

  “Didn’t you put him in danger, by not telling him the truth?”

  A stab, right in the middle.

  “Maybe we weren’t a threat, but General Holland certainly is.”

  Skewered.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but there were no words. No defenses. Even though some of what she was saying was pretty hypocritical.

  “Look, I know this must be hard for you, and I’m sorry to be the one to deliver the news. But deep down, surely you understand. He deserves a girl he can really love, someone more . . . like him. Someone who doesn’t bring turmoil to his life, like his father did. If you really care for my son, I’m asking you, please . . . let him go.”

  As she spoke, it was like her eyes be
gged me to forgive her. But there was nothing to forgive. Nothing except the truth.

  And the truth, as I’d come to learn, didn’t care how it made you feel. The truth could be brutal.

  No, no arguments from me, because deep down, I did understand. Deep down, I knew she was right.

  Hadn’t I been telling myself the very same thing, all along?

  I’d known involving Hunter was selfish. I’d known I’d risked his safety. I’d known that we shouldn’t be together. But I’d wanted so, so badly for the logic to disappear. To just surrender to my emotions so I could revel in the way he made me feel.

  I bowed my head. I’d been making choices all along, but none of them were based on truth. The truth was, I was bad for Hunter. The truth was, I had to let him go. But not before I asked her an important question.

  “Why did you?” I said simply.

  Her right eyebrow raised in a high arch. “Why what?”

  “If Quinn wanted me so badly, why didn’t you just take me as soon as you figured out I was at the Dairy Queen? Why did you encourage Hunter to get to know me?” I noticed how her face stiffened with each elaboration, but I kept going, hoping that she’d set the record straight although I was making her squirm. “I just . . . don’t understand any of it.”

  “We were just following the directive,” she said, coolly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I wish I could tell you. Hunter, too. He asked me all the same questions.” I felt a hand curl around my shoulder and squeeze. “Quinn’s the only person who can give you that information.”

  The bed creaked as she stood, and I heard her footsteps retreat to the door.

  Without lifting my head, I called out flatly. “Did she even really need anything?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “She wanted me to tell you that Daniel is gone.”

  That pulled my head up. “Gone? Gone where?”

  She gave a flutter of her hands. “He left. She said he told her that being near you was just too hard, given . . . well, you know.”

  I didn’t respond. I just bowed my head back into my hands and let the pain wash over me. I hadn’t admitted to myself until this very moment that I’d held out hope for rekindling some kind of relationship with Daniel. Stupid, I knew that. He’d never see me as a daughter, just like Hunter would never see me as a girlfriend. Because everyone could see clearly what I never could, until this very moment. I wasn’t human, and I never would be. And the human parts I did have? They were useless. No, worse than useless. Damaging. Everyone I cared about or who cared about me got hurt in the end. Mom, Lucas. Hunter. And now Daniel.

  But where did that leave me? What did I have left? Besides pain—this terrible, gaping, ragged-edged pain?

  My breaths came in short, aching gasps as I grappled for something, anything, to dull the agony. I wished I could just suck out all this pain and bury it in a hole somewhere. All of my hope, gone. I’d been fooling myself all along. No one would ever accept me as I was. No one would ever love me for me.

  I punched the bed, over and over again, until the mattress was nothing but a mass of holes. What a waste all of this was. So much feeling, amounting to nothing. If only I could channel it into something productive.

  If only I could keep my heart from feeling like it was being shredded, strip by strip.

  Then I remembered. Quinn. She had relief for me. She had a purpose. A cause. All I had to do was undergo her upgrades, and then Holland, the person who’d sent me down this rabbit hole of despair, who caused everyone around him to suffer without remorse, would pay. If I was selfish, then he was a supreme narcissist of the first order.

  If I couldn’t have Hunter or a real human life, then my feelings were worthless anyway. A painful, haunting reminder of everything I couldn’t have. How could I possibly think of anything when I could swear my heart was cracking, cracking, cracking, into a million tiny fissures that would eventually crumble into dust? How could I think logically when my entire being felt like it might splinter in two?

  My emotions, I couldn’t function with them. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  Quinn had been right, all along. My emotions had to go.

  “I think you’re making a very wise decision. I’m so proud of you,” Quinn said, as she readied me on the table an hour later. “Your emotional reactions are crippling, and there’s no need for that. This way you can focus on Holland. You won’t feel the guilt over Nicole’s death.”

  Not just Mom’s death. Three’s, too. A part of me I hadn’t known about, until it was too late.

  Both of those things, my fault.

  No. Holland’s fault.

  As I sat there, my initial misgivings gave way to a deeper, primal urge. A growing thirst, to claim whatever knowledge Quinn had to bestow. Ultimately, upgrades meant power, and power meant a better chance at punishing Holland.

  I would allow Quinn to vacuum out my feelings—my despair, my pain—and gladly. They hurt. They hurt so incredibly much. And in their place, I would take Holland. His reputation, his life, everything he had. It was no more than he deserved.

  “Are you ready?”

  Upgrades. Improved functionality. Emotional control.

  Lessening the pain.

  Though I knew I should keep my guard up, I felt myself being dragged under her spell. I raised glazed eyes and nodded my assent.

  “Ready,” I answered.

  Ready for the new, improved Mila. Ready to stop hurting, for once and for all.

  Hunter’s face flashed through my mind, igniting a deep yearning. I curled my toes. Yearning never amounted to anything good. It led to pain and disappointment, destruction and death.

  The only thing I wanted to yearn for anymore was revenge.

  I tucked my hands into my lap, tucking away any last misgivings at the same time. I wasn’t Sarah. There was nothing here to save.

  “Quinn? We ready?”

  Samuel appeared, looking a little worse for wear. His shirt was rumpled, and red lines zagged in the whites of his eyes.

  “Yep. Perfect timing.”

  He paused a couple of feet from the table. “Are we . . . are you sure about this?” he asked. The question seemed directed at Quinn, but he was staring at me.

  Slowly, deliberately, Quinn pushed to her full height. Despite her small stature, her posture suggested fangs coiled beneath the pretty exterior, just waiting to strike. Obviously, she didn’t like being questioned by her subordinates. “We are both completely sure, thank you, Samuel,” she said. A sharpness cut the pleasantness of her words.

  He ignored her, though, and continued to stare directly at me. He lifted a red brow, as if prodding for an answer. I didn’t understand why he would care. Not after how he’d had my sleeping arrangements changed. I guess maybe I didn’t make him uncomfortable here, in the lab. “Yes.”

  His shoulders slouched a little, before he straightened. “Fine. Let’s get this going,” he said, suddenly all business.

  Quinn watched him as he fiddled with instruments, before sighing. “This is going to work out for the best. For all of us. If Holland thought I’d just step aside and look pretty and take what he dished out, he misjudged me by a mile.”

  “That’s your personal vendetta,” Samuel muttered almost inaudibly under his breath.

  Quinn’s breath caught, and her expression turned stormy. I thought she’d say something, but she surprised me by glancing at me and letting it go.

  “All right, then. Let’s get these upgrades in.”

  Upgrades. Once again the word rolled through my head, and deep inside me, a hunger awakened. Once upon a time, any mention of android functions would have sent shame coursing through my manufactured veins. Now, all I felt was strength.

  My mind wandered off as they got to work. I heard Quinn talking, off and on. Telling me how Holland had actually contacted her to see if she could help with his missing “project,” as he called me. Telling me we were going to expose him for the fool he was, and ge
t him where it hurt via public humiliation. Telling me not to worry, that everything would be okay. Telling me that I wouldn’t have to endure emotional pain again.

  Maybe in the end, we’d both be satisfied.

  At the very least, I wouldn’t be hurting.

  “Okay, part one has been taken care of. Now, on to the next. Time to change your emotional settings.”

  Emotional settings. I thought of Hunter, of Mom, and triggered a cascade of pain.

  I was ready to embrace the numbness.

  “We’re not turning your emotions off, mind you, just containing them with a new microchip. Building a high threshold for all of the emotions that might hinder or hurt you.”

  Abby’s teeth flashed as she chewed on her lip. “What’s the point of this?” She’d joined in partway through the procedure.

  Quinn didn’t spare her a glance. “She’s suffering, that’s the point. Do you think that’s helpful, or even necessary?”

  “But you’re saving some of her emotions?” Abby asked.

  “Oh yes. Anger. And hate. Those two emotions will give her the fuel she needs to carry out this task.”

  As I listened to her words, I wondered—was what she was saying possible? Could she somehow press a few buttons, implant a switch, and then, bam! My pain would go away? Did I definitely want this, assuming it was going to work? Should I want this?

  I thought of Mom. Of Sarah. Of the part of me I’d killed. A fist grabbed my heart, squeezed the life out of it, and I concluded yes. I’d give anything to make it all go away.

  Quinn’s gaze was watchful, almost like she could see the conflict going on inside me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll best Holland at his own game. Succeed where he failed. Don’t you think it’s time he paid, for what he did to your mom?”

  Not only Mom, but the way he’d pitted me against Three, against myself. And suddenly, it was all too much to bear. Watching as Mom died. Watching as Three—Sarah—melted into oblivion.

  There was Jensen and Mom, memories I could feel but never touch. And then there were the memories I could touch but wished I’d never seen. Blood. Death. There was me, wasting my precious time with Mom by acting surly.