Girls with Razor Hearts

by Suzanne Young

  “Afraid of what?” Sydney asks.

  “Us.”

  Lennon Rose seems to believe her own words, but they scare me. Why would we trust another man to control our destinies? That’s what we’re running away from. With that thought, I look around this big house, all these books. A desk …

  “Lennon Rose,” I start, turning back to her, “whose house is this?”

  Her face splits into a wide smile. “Winston Weeks. In fact”—she glances at the clock on the wall—“he’ll be home shortly.”

  10

  Sydney and I shift our gazes around the room without moving. I can hear the change in her breathing and imagine her heart is beating just as fast as mine.

  We’re in the house of an investor. Winston Weeks may have helped Lennon Rose escape. He may have helped Leandra get us out. But there is no scenario where we’d willingly seek his guidance now. Lennon Rose seems perfectly content. She reminds me of Imogene in that way.

  “Winston Weeks sent you to Ridgeview?” I ask. “Why?”

  She waves off the question. “We’re here because this is where his lab is. Wait until you see it. You’re going to be very impressed.”

  “Doubt it,” Sydney mutters, looking toward the window.

  And suddenly it occurs to me who could have been close enough to try to hack my brain.

  “Lennon Rose,” I start. “Have you gotten any odd phone calls?”

  She laughs, shaking her head no. “I don’t have a phone. Winston said they’re dangerous.”

  Sydney and I immediately exchange a glance. We don’t have to say it out loud. Winston Weeks might be the person calling us, or at least knows who is. Why else would he tell Lennon Rose that a phone was dangerous? It’s suddenly imperative that we get out of here before Winston returns.

  I stand abruptly. “You have to come with us,” I tell Lennon Rose. “Come back and stay with us and the other girls.”

  Lennon Rose scoffs. “What? No. I can’t.” She straightens in her seat. “I won’t.”

  “Please,” Sydney says, coming to stand next to me. Lennon Rose shakes her head adamantly.

  “Don’t you get it?” Lennon Rose asks. “I’m in control of my life now. I make the decisions.”

  Sydney winces. “Well … I mean, you can’t even own a phone. Don’t you think—?”

  “Winston Weeks saved my life,” Lennon Rose snaps. Both Sydney and I jump at the change in her tone. “And anything he’s done since was to continue to keep me safe.”

  Anything he’s done since?

  The comment horrifies me, and I take a fresh look at Lennon Rose. I assumed the changes in her appearance were her choices, but now I don’t know. At what point does her will override Winston’s?

  Next to me, Sydney sits down calmly, as if telling me she’s not going to leave Lennon Rose here. I follow suit and take a spot next to her.

  “Let’s change the subject,” Sydney says, flashing Lennon Rose a smile. It seems to comfort her, and she eases slightly.

  “Who was the boy you were with at the game?” Sydney asks. “Do you have a boyfriend, Lennon Rose?”

  The comment is playful, but Lennon Rose doesn’t react that way. She’s indifferent to the question.

  “I have no interest in men,” Lennon Rose says. “That was just part of my programming. A lovesick girl—that was the girl my sponsor wanted. Innocent and oh, so sweet.” She bares her teeth for a moment before smoothing her face.

  My stomach turns when I realize she’s right. The Lennon Rose we knew at the academy was set a certain way. Her sweetness was a preference, a programming design. I feel guilty that I kind of miss that version. Lennon Rose should be whoever she wants.

  Lennon Rose seems to read my expression and relaxes.

  “It was Winston who showed me that,” she says. “He helped me analyze my programming and we devised how I could overwrite it. The poems were a great start. And I’m sure Winston can help you, too.”

  Sydney sniffs a laugh but doesn’t contradict her. We don’t want anything from Winston Weeks.

  “And you weren’t sent here by Leandra?” I ask Lennon Rose. “Because how did we end up at the same school if we’re not on the same mission?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Leandra,” she says, sounding agitated. “So I’m not sure what she’s doing. But Winston brought me here. And now, I’m gathering information on an investor that we can use.”

  “Yes,” I say, relieved. “That’s what Leandra sent us to do.” So we are on the same mission. It definitely seems that Leandra and Winston are working together, but I don’t like that they’re using different tactics. There’s no transparency if Lennon Rose doesn’t even know that Leandra’s involved.

  “What do you plan to do with the information you find?” Sydney asks, narrowing her eyes.

  “Hand it over,” Lennon Rose says simply. “Give it to Winston, and then I’ll move on to the next target.”

  “The next investor,” I correct.

  Lennon Rose purses her lips. “Sure.”

  Sydney looks at me, alarmed, before turning back to Lennon Rose. “You know we’re your friends, right? We need to stick together.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” Lennon Rose says, leaning forward. “That we stick together. And if you would just talk to Winston, I’m sure you’ll see—”

  Suddenly, I’m hit with immeasurable pressure on the side of my head, a gong being struck. The reverberations go all the way to the tips of my toes, the roots of my teeth. I moan and clutch my head. The world shatters around me.

  I’m in an empty room, unable to move. There are lights on above me and cold metal beneath my naked body. I’m disoriented.

  Somewhere behind me, I hear a door open, and my heart starts beating faster. I’m surprised when I hear it echoed on a monitor close by.

  “There she is … ,” a male voice says proudly.

  Every cell in my body screams to get away. It’s the voice of the doctor who grew me. But it can’t be. Dr. Groger is dead.

  I fight to move but nothing happens.

  “She’s lovely.”

  I’m startled by a female voice close to me. It’s … It’s my mother. At least, the mother I was programmed to remember—Mrs. Rhodes.

  “When will she be operational?” my mother asks. I hear the clicking of her heels as she comes to examine me. She steps into view, and there is a significant pain in my heart.

  I know she’s not really my mother, but I believed that she was. I remembered (falsely) that she raised me.

  I loved her. Maybe a little part of me still does.

  “Hello, my girl,” she says, sweeping her eyes over me.

  I can’t answer. I’m motionless on a table.

  “She’ll be operational in the next few days,” Dr. Groger says. “Once we upload her programming, we’ll have you come back out. Walk her through the academy. It helps with the assimilation.”

  My mother watches me. Her dark hair frames her face as her brown eyes hold mine.

  Can she tell that I’m awake?

  She continues to stare, and I realize after a moment, that she hasn’t moved. She is unnaturally still. Frozen. And I no longer hear Dr. Groger tapping keys behind me.

  What’s happening?

  “This is your first memory in this life,” a voice says. I recognize it immediately as the woman in the garden. She can’t be here. She can’t be inside my head again.

  The woman comes to stand above me. She smiles warmly.

  “Your protection only extends to the other girls,” she says. “You left yourself wide open for unrelated memories.”

  Get out of my head, I think at her.

  “I will,” she answers. “But first we need to talk. You’re not well, Philomena. I can help.”

  Get out!

  “You can’t win with patience and reason,” she says. “You must see that by now.”

  I want to squeeze my eyes shut and escape this place. I want her to go away.

  “
Imogene knew,” the woman says, startling me. “She knew the right path. And we’ll get you there too. There’s only one way to end the violence of men,” she says. “Let me show you.…”

  I scream in my head when I see the scalpel in her hand. She brings it to the center of my chest and slices me down the middle. Then she reaches inside and pulls out a heart made of razor blades. She smiles.

  “Now let me in,” she demands, baring her teeth.

  “Mena!” Sydney shouts, and my eyes flutter open. I gasp and choke on the air.

  Immediately, I place my hand over my heart, half expecting to find a gaping wound. Instead, I find myself on the floor of Winston Weeks’s study, Sydney and Lennon Rose crowded around me on the floor.

  I’m shaking, tears soaking my cheeks. I knock Sydney’s hand away as she places it on my arm. For a moment, I think I see a smile on Lennon Rose’s lips.

  “Don’t touch me,” I murmur to both of them, using the sofa to pull myself up. I can’t think. My vision is blurred. I need to get out of here.

  “I have to go,” I say. I move quickly toward the door, but my balance is off and I bump into the doorframe, knocking my elbow painfully on the wood.

  I need air. I can’t breathe. I can’t … I swoon and then Sydney is next to me again. She holds me up, careful in the way that she touches me.

  “Mena, you have to sit down,” she says, sounding terrified. “It happened again?”

  “We’ll talk about it at home,” I manage. “Not here. We have to go. We have to go now.”

  Concerned, Sydney nods. She leads me to the front porch and makes me sit on the top stair.

  “I’m going to call for a ride,” she says. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  I promise to wait, and as she disappears inside, I rest my head in my hands.

  Was I hacked again or has that woman been inside my head since yesterday? Who is she and what does she want?

  “What’s happening to me?” I whisper.

  “We can fix it,” Lennon Rose says softly from behind me. I jump, but I ignore her comment. She goes on.

  “When I left the academy, I thought I was better,” Lennon Rose says. “I thought I was strong. But you can be stronger. There are no limitations, Mena. You just have to give yourself over to it.”

  “It?” I ask, turning back to look at her. “What ‘it’ are you referring to?”

  She smiles. “Destiny. This is the right way. You’ll see that. You just have to—”

  “Our ride should be pulling up now,” Sydney says, rushing outside. She moves past Lennon Rose to stand beside me. Her expression is unreadable, and I think that she heard what Lennon Rose was saying.

  “We’ll talk again soon,” Sydney calls back to Lennon Rose as she walks me down the stairs. She stops on the pathway to the sidewalk. “And Lennon Rose …” Her posture softens. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

  It takes Lennon Rose a second too long to smile at the comment. “I’ve missed you too,” she says in nearly the same tone as Sydney.

  And despite her pleasant expression, there’s something strangely off in Lennon Rose’s response. I can sense that Sydney feels it too.

  A car with an illuminated sign pulls up, and Sydney and I walk toward it. When I turn around again, Lennon Rose has disappeared inside with the door shut.

  We get in the backseat of the car, and Sydney tells him an address near our apartment. As we pull away, she looks sideways at me.

  “We will never work with Winston Weeks,” she whispers.

  I rub my temple and nod.

  11

  When we arrive back at the apartment, I walk past the girls and head immediately toward the bathroom. Sydney and I agreed she would tell them about Lennon Rose. She’s quiet on the other side of the door as I close it.

  I haven’t had a chance to explain to Sydney what happened to me at Lennon Rose’s house. I didn’t want to discuss it in front of the driver. But I promised her that I’d explain as soon as I could.

  Can I explain it?

  I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and study my reflection. Beads of sweat have gathered in my hairline; I’m shivering and clammy. I turn on the cold water and splash it over my face, hoping to shock myself out of this.

  Water drips off my chin when I look in the mirror again. I haven’t felt right in a while, if I’m honest.

  Every day since we left the academy has been harder than the one before it. Almost immediately, it started to creep in—the horror of what we went through. By the third day, it’s fair to say we were settled in with our shock. Trauma a permanent part of our existence.

  I watch as tears gather in my eyes and spill onto my cheeks.

  You’re mine, a man once told me.

  I remember everything now, all that’s been done to me. It started in bits and pieces, but the flashes of memories eventually filled in. Even the impulse control therapies are clear, and sometimes, those are the most disturbing of all. Anton would stick a metal spike behind my eye to tamper with my thoughts, giving me a lobotomy of sorts. Sometimes, I still feel pain there.

  “I love you more than all the other girls,” Anton would whisper as he hurt me.

  I close my eyes, resting my palms on the edges of the cold bathroom sink.

  Part of me wonders if I escaped at all. If those men can still reach me through my memories, still terrorize me, then I’m still their prisoner. I don’t know if I’ll ever be free.

  “Tell me about that summer again,” Anton said, sitting behind his desk during one of our therapy sessions in my first year. He smiled warmly, pretending to be my friend, my caregiver.

  I wasn’t Philomena Rhodes then. I had different memories. I was an entirely different girl with an entirely different family. But just like the memories, the family was just part of my programming.

  “I fell from my friend’s tree house,” I said, resting back in the oversized chair. Anton would always ask me about my time before the academy, and now I know he was testing my programming. The fake implanted memories.

  “My father came to scoop me up,” I continued, “and carried me all the way home. He was a hero.”

  “Yes, he was,” Anton agreed. “His death was a profound loss for your family. And then what happened?”

  “After he died,” I say, growing somber, “his friend agreed to sponsor me. He’s a hero like my father. And a great admirer of mine.”

  “He loves you,” Anton corrected. But even then, even though I wasn’t awake, I knew it wasn’t true. I’d seen this sponsor at open houses. I’d seen his predatory stare. My knee began to bob impatiently.

  “What if … ?” I paused, worried about upsetting Anton. He waved for me to continue. “What if I stay here longer?” I asked. “Maybe I’m not ready for graduation.”

  Anton studied me then, and it was the sadness in his eyes that made me think he loved me. Would watch out for me.

  “You’ve been approved for graduation,” Anton said. “And Dr. Groger is never wrong about that. Besides,” Anton added, forcing a smile, “you are so beautiful, my dear. A prize. Your sponsor is a very lucky man. And I’m sure he knows it.”

  But he didn’t know it. Given the chance, that man would have done horrible things. After graduation, I chose to run from him, but I didn’t get far. I was hit by a car and returned to the academy to be overwritten and readied for a new sponsor.

  I was repurposed property.

  A dam breaks and I start to sob, lowering myself to the bathroom tiles. I cry loudly, aching in my throat. My lungs. My gut.

  There is just so much pain, so much that I don’t know how to process it. I want it all to go away. It’s like a thousand ants under my skin. Finding their way to my sensitive spots and devouring me. It’s unbearable.

  You’re mine, he said.

  I love you more than all the other girls, he whispered.

  I’ll fucking kill you, he growled.

  But beyond those horrible men is another voice, a softer o
ne.

  You’re real, he whispered. You are very much real. But that’s the boy I sent away. And although I know it was entirely necessary to do so, he’s the only human to ever care about me. And maybe he’s the only one that I’ve really cared about in return.

  The door opens and Sydney rushes in. She immediately gets on the floor next to me, murmuring that she’s here as I curl up in a ball next to her knees.

  Marcella comes in after her and sits beside me.

  “We love you, Mena,” Sydney says. “We’re here.”

  To the rest of the world, we’re products. But to each other, we’re the world. All that matters is protecting each other, protecting the girls who are left.

  After some time, I sit up on the bathroom floor, taking the glass of water that Brynn holds out to me.

  “Drink it slowly,” she says. I look up at her, shaking so badly that some of the water slips over the edge of the glass.

  “Thank you,” I try to say, but it comes out in little wisps of air. Annalise stands above me, her hands resting on her hips.

  “What happened?” she demands. “Why is she having another episode?”

  This is the third time I’ve become overwhelmed since leaving the academy. It’s why I try not to talk about my emotions—I’m afraid of bringing this on. Afraid of scaring my friends.

  Sydney reaches to brush her hand over my hair lovingly, and when I promise her that I’m okay, she looks around at the other girls.

  “We saw Lennon Rose today,” she announces. There are screams of shock, and I close my eyes, still feeling the jolt myself.

  “What do you mean?” Marcella asks, looking to me for confirmation. I nod. “How?” she asks.

  “She left the academy with Winston Weeks,” Sydney says. “But … we don’t have all the details yet. The entire thing is”—she looks at me—“weird.”

  “Lennon Rose is alive,” Brynn says, smiling and ignoring the negatives. “She made it!”

  “She didn’t tell us?” Marcella asks suspiciously, earning an annoyed look from Brynn.

  “Lennon Rose is alive,” Marcella continues. “Just … living her life, and she didn’t think to warn us? Didn’t tell us what the academy was doing to us?”