Puppet

by Pauline C. Harris

  I let myself cry for a few minutes before forcing myself to stop.

  24

  I’ve taken to tearing apart the remnants of the metal bedside table and shoving them into the wall like pins alongside the large chunk already embedded. They look like some sort of torture device or the explosion of a metal crate. The pieces, small and large, jut out of the slightly circular wall on every side, making my room seem like a battleground or weapon locker. The guards continue eyeing me warily from the other side of the door as if frightened I might turn around and fling one at the glass.

  Which I just might.

  It’s while I’m tearing apart one of the table sides that I hear the door open and look up in surprise, my heart rate hammering and adrenaline forcing me to my feet. The metal plate is dropped from my hand as I stare into the pale, angular face of Benevolence Devere.

  She’s not a particularly tall woman, but she towers in the doorway, seeming to possess more strength and power than she actually does. She’s younger than I had always envisioned her; she can’t be much older than twenty-five. I remember when her parents died – some sort of car accident – leaving her Head of Portum at such a young age. She wears a pink and white dress, not a fancy one, just simple; like the ones I might wear at home. Her hair is light blonde and although she seems white and airy, it’s a cold kind of lightness; like ice. A guard stalks in behind her but she turns sharply towards him with a hard stare.

  “Head Devere, she’s dangerous,” the guard states.

  She murmurs something do quietly that I can’t make it out. But by the guard’s reaction, she might as well have shouted it.

  “But Head...” his voice trails off as Head Devere raises her chin to glare her icy blue eyes at him. After a worried glance in my direction and then at the metal shards lining the walls, the guard slips from the room, closing the door slowly behind him as if he expects her to change her mind.

  Benevolence Devere stands by the doorway, her eyes studying me as if I’m some rare species of bird. Her head angles sideways and her face shows no expression. She almost resembles a porcelain doll with her white, ashen face and darkly painted cheekbones.

  “I heard about you,” she says after awhile, her voice stronger and prettier than I had expected, echoing weirdly throughout the room. “Administrator Edelin talks about you.” She pauses, eyeing the metal splinters in the wall with a slight frown. “I thought I’d better come meet you,” she finishes.

  I stand in silence, her words refusing to make certain sense in my mind while I gawk at her. She pauses, waiting for a reply. “I’m Penelope Trump,” I end up saying just for the sake of noise.

  “I know your name.” She’s still watching me with her light blue eyes; lighter than any blue I’ve ever seen, almost clear. Light colored makeup paints her face, although it’s caked on so heavily it seems dark and severe. Her face is pallid and her eyelids are masked in white, her lips painted a pale, pale pink. “So you’re a living marionette.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. “Administrator Edelin says you’ll be useful,” she goes on, but her tone suggests she might not agree. “Where are you from, Penelope?” she asks and for some reason, my name spoken from her lips doesn’t bother me as much as it would from Edelin’s.

  I try to swallow with my dry mouth and answer her question. “I lived with Dr. Jed Orville,” I reply quietly.

  “Your father.”

  I shake my head. “No. He took me from an orphanage.”

  Her eyebrows rise slightly and I can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t know my back story through and through like Edelin does. I thought she’s the reason I was brought here in the first place.

  “An orphan,” she says. “Sad.” At first I think she’s mocking me, indifferently waving away my past like a fly, but then I catch sight of her eyes veiled with something that looks like sorrow, although hidden within the foggy blue.

  She begins to walk slowly towards me, and startled, I freeze to the spot. She stops only feet from me and stares down at the mangled bedside table. Then she directs her unsettling blue eyes into mine. “Can you really snap a man’s arm in half?” she asks quietly, although her softness is still and demanding.

  I nod numbly.

  Her eyes linger on mine longer than I can call comfortable before they dart back to the shards of metal in the wall, eyeing them suspiciously. She leans down to pick up a small piece I had recently torn away. I watch her turn it over a few times in her hand, softly rubbing the sharp edges.

  I stare at the small distance between us and her comfortable posture, the way she moves like she has no fear, the way she commandeers a situation with ease, without worry. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” I suddenly ask, the words coming out in whisper-like sounds.

  Her eyes flit to mine and I still see no hint of anxiety hidden there. She’s silent for a moment and I frown slightly, her long pauses beginning to unnerve me. I can tell she’s thinking behind the silence, or possibly just trying to make me uncomfortable. “Because you won’t hurt me,” she answers confidently, her voice soft yet commanding. “I’m Head of Portum and the most powerful living soul in this nation,” she goes on, stating every word with unwavering ownership. “Not only would you be breaking a thousand laws by hurting or killing me, but you’d be killing yourself as well.” She pauses again, her eyes searching mine as if waiting for a reaction or a scent of humanity from within me. “And besides,” she goes on, her tone changing slightly. “You’re not the killing type.”

  We stand in silence for a moment as she watches me and I watch her back. Just then do I notice how fragile and small she looks; a frail girl hidden beneath a powerful woman.

  “How do you know?” I ask her, sincerely wondering since I’m beginning to lose sight of the things that define me, limit me.

  She smiles slightly, the first smile I’ve seen. Her cheeks curve inwards, almost creating dimples, but not quite. “I just do.” She turns and heads for the door while a sudden thought bursts through my mind.

  “Head Devere?” I ask.

  She turns.

  “Why are so many people hurting here?” I ask her, my voice wavering slightly, trying to suck any accusations out of my tone. I think about the criminals in the cells, the man whose arm I broke. Hurting seems less of a threat than punishing, although more disturbing at the same time. And Head Devere knows it.

  Her expression forms into a slight angry frown, before softening as her eyes wander away from mine and toward the door. Her arms sag but her shoulders remain upright and proud. “I don’t know,” she replies quietly, a different kind of quiet; almost a whisper, almost defeat. And then she leaves the room.

  It isn’t until the door is closed and I’m left in the stillness do I realize that she took the metal shard with her.

  25

  “I want to speak with Administrator Edelin,” I tell the guard confidently as he brings me my breakfast. He turns towards the door without looking at me, but I reach out to grab his arm, holding him firm enough to keep him still. “I want to see him,” I repeat, harder this time. I see the guard reposition the gun in his other hand, but I try to ignore it. “Tell him I want to talk,” I demand, releasing him and watching as he scrambles across the room and out the door.

  I eat my breakfast in silence, slowly waiting as the minutes tick by and an hour and a half later, Edelin strides through the door. He eyes me warily; a look I’m beginning to get used to.

  “What do you want?” he asks irritably.

  I stand up from the bed and take a step towards him. “I broke that man’s arm and I haven’t caused trouble,” I start by telling him. Edelin’s eyebrows crease together, but I continue. “I underwent your surgery and now you owe me.” Edelin’s mouth opens and I can see the protest in his eyes and expression, the words forming on his lips, but I speak before he can utter a sound. “I want to see Jed and James,” I state, trying to make it more of a demand than a question.

  Edelin shuts his mouth again, watching me i
n silent thought.

  “Just a visit, I just need to see them,” I go on as I see Edelin begin to speak again, readying myself for the objections.

  “Fine,” Edelin loudly interrupts my rant.

  I stop and stare at him for a moment, startled by his quick response. “Fine?” I echo.

  “Yes, fine,” he snaps, nodding. “You can see them today. But just today.”

  I’m too shocked to say anything as Edelin turns to leave the room. I hear him mutter something to the guards outside and minutes later, a troupe of administrators come to lead me to a car outside the facility. Three guards escort us, their guns trained on me the entire time. But I’m too excited to care.

  The car ride seems drawn out and slow even though I know it only takes about twenty minutes. The car pulls up in front of Jed’s house and the administrator beside me utters something about guards being stationed around the house, but I don’t have the patience to listen.

  I thrust the door open before the car is even stopped, hearing an exclamation of surprise from one of the administrators, and then I race up the steps. I fling the door open and walk into the entryway, almost running Jed over in the process, who’s standing there just about to reach for the door. He looks up with an exclamation of shock and cries, “Penelope!” I laugh as he throws his arms around me, muttering things too quickly for me to catch. “What happened? How are you here?” I hear him ask after a moment of incessant rambling. “I just heard you were coming!”

  “Just today; they let me come,” I say quickly and then spot a figure at the bottom of the steps. I turn slowly, seeing James’s familiar smile and my heart does something oddly between tightening and melting. He opens his arms and without a word, I let myself be swung into his embrace as he holds me tightly against his chest, lifting my feet momentarily off the ground while I stifle a laugh. Memories of the last time we were together assault me and with a growing sense of anxiety, I begin to wonder what James and I are. I’d never thought of James as anything other than a friend, up until the time he kissed me in front of the fountain, tearing apart any other feelings I had for him and replacing them with ones I can’t understand. Now as he wraps his arms around me I wonder why my heart beats so fast and why I’m afraid to look up into his face.

  James must feel me stiffen or somehow notice my unease because he slowly lets me go and I take a step back. Jed still has a silly smile plastered to his face, oblivious to our slight discomfort.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he says happily.

  “I did want to talk to you though,” I say to Jed, and James mumbles something quietly before stepping out of the room. I watch him go for a moment, slightly startled, but then turn back to Jed. I sigh, the smile momentarily leaving my face. “Jed, I know you took away my lying for a reason, but you need to give it back. Fix it. Somehow,” I blurt out. I think of everything of mine that’s been snatched away, all the basic choices are no longer my own. But my heart begins to sink as I see Jed begin to slowly shake his head in firm disagreement.

  “No, no, Penelope,” he murmurs. “This will be good for you.”

  “Jed, please,” I beg. “I need you to take this away.” I’m starting to feel desperate, but I can see the look in his eyes.

  He’s still shaking his head and beginning to look off in a different direction, already distracted by something else. “You’ll thank me one day. It’s good for you.”

  I want to snap at him, yell at him, but deep down I know it won’t do any good. And a part of me doesn’t want to waste my time here bickering with Jed.

  “Now where did James go?” Jed asks absentmindedly, leaning out into the hallway. “I’m going to make some lunch.” He gives me a cheesy grin and saunters toward the kitchen. I watch him go, airily floating through the doorway and vanishing from sight.

  I stand alone in the entryway that somehow seems still and too quiet. I look upstairs to where I know James is hidden away in his room and after a moment’s hesitation, I walk up the steps. I stand outside James’s room longer than I should, just waiting and after a minute, I slowly knock on the door. The action seems weird and awkward. I’ve never knocked before. I usually just walk in.

  I hear James’s voice and then I step into the room. He’s sitting at his desk, paging through some book and looks up to watch me as I stand against the door.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of what he’s reading. “You just kind of left.”

  “I thought you might want to talk to Dad alone,” he answers.

  I shrug and stare down at my hands. There’s a long moment of silence and I can’t help but notice that it’s the first time this has really happened between us. The first time anything’s ever been really awkward. I sigh and brush my hair out of my face irritably. I’m frustrated with myself and James for creating this weird silence between us. “Where do we stand, James?” I ask him softly. “I mean...” I trail off, realizing that I have no idea what I mean. That I have no idea what any of this means.

  James stands up, putting the book down on his desk. “I meant everything I said,” he tells me and I’m not sure if those words comfort me or scare me.

  “And I did too,” I reply. “I mean, obviously.” I laugh slightly and James smiles. I feel like I’m at such a disadvantage. I can only utter the truth and James knows it, but he could be spouting any lies he wants. But for some reason, I don’t think he is. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I swear I can see the truth in his eyes.

  James crosses the room between us and stands only feet away, although he doesn’t touch me. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up and changed everything,” he says slowly. “But I’m not sorry that I did.”

  There’s a pause while James’s blue eyes search mine with such hope that I’m almost afraid to speak, to breathe. “I’m not either,” I say quietly, suddenly realizing how true it is. Heartbeats seem like minutes as we stand together, so close together, trying to read each other because what we have has somehow morphed into something else entirely. A small smile tugs across James’s face as he begins to lean toward me, his hands on the door behind me and I close my eyes as he kisses me. The wooden door creaks as he leans forward and my heart is just as close to overbeating as it can be when I hear Jed screech up the stairs that our lunch is ready.

  I smile and laugh as James pulls away, looking slightly irritated. “I’ll get you out of there,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how, but I won’t let them keep you forever.”

  I smile sadly, thinking about Administrator Edelin and Head Devere and how easily they caught us. I pray that James is right and that he’ll somehow find a way to help me, but I know it’s a long, long shot – especially with Edelin and that little gray box.

  James turns the knob on the door and we head downstairs to Jed, who’s eagerly awaiting us with a bowl of something soupy and dark that I’m slightly afraid to try. James and I sit on opposite sides of the table while Jed drones on about how excited he is that I’m okay, about some new theory and about the administrators. I take the pills Jed gives me, realizing it seems like a long time since I’ve last taken the medication that was supposed to counteract the marionette side effects. Thankfully, I haven’t had the chance to ever find out what they are. James and I give each other frequent glances although they aren’t necessarily different or romantic, just amused looks when Jed says something funny or strange. I eventually get the nerve to try whatever it is in the bowl in front of me and when I do, I find that it isn’t all that odd. I swallow it down, trying to focus on Jed’s topic of conversation, all the while feeling like I’ve never been gone at all.

  . . .

  The next time Edelin allows me to come back and visit Jed and James, it’s only two weeks after my first one, although it feels like decades. Sitting in an empty, white room with nothing but metal shards stuck in the wall and a cold, hard bed leaves endless days with no windows or watches to tell me the time. Sometimes I wonder how I’m still sane.

  I ta
lk to James about what Administrator Edelin has me do; no more bone crushing, but coming close. I can’t bring myself to mention it to Jed, he’s so happy when I come and I can tell he’s putting on a brave face for me, trying to make me feel as if whatever happens with the administrators doesn’t matter here. I don’t want to worry Jed – I feel like I should protect him from all of this. So I worry James.

  He sits silently and listens while I go on about the administrators and their criminals. I can’t tell what’s going on in his mind while he watches me, but I can tell he’s upset, angry even. He’s quiet while he fiddles with the blanket on the back of his chair.

  “I don’t think its Head Devere who really punishes all those people,” I tell James quietly.

  “Well of course, she has people do it for her,” he responds, although his voice sounds odd, like it’s just an excuse.

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, I don’t think she even gives the orders. I met her and...it was almost as if she didn’t care.” I pause. “Administrator Edelin does all the commanding. He’s the only one I ever see.”

  James nods in contemplation. “He was adviser to Head Devere’s parents,” he tells me. “Before they died and Head Devere took over.”

  I stop, frowning in surprise. I hadn’t known anything about Administrator Edelin, but apparently James is better on his history. I knew about Benevolence Devere’s parent’s tragic car accident; the real reason why such a young ruler would be Head, but I hadn’t known anything about Edelin. I had thought he was just an especially dictating official.

  “I didn’t know that,” I tell James.

  He shrugs. “People say its Edelin and not Devere that really runs Portum.”

  I reposition my feet on the floor and lean back against the side of James’s bed. “It could be true. At least from what I see.” I shrug. For all I know, Edelin could just be in charge of law enforcement.