Girls with Razor Hearts

by Suzanne Young

  “I think I’m going to hold off,” I say.

  “But why?” she asks. “If you’re vulnerable—”

  “It’s gotten better,” I lie, feeling Sydney look at me. “But I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  The fact is, I can’t take the chance on Raven. She knows far more than we realized. Giving her access to my private data, my programming and memories … that would be dangerous. Leandra killed Imogene at the threat of her memories being exposed to Anton. Would she do the same to me for handing my head over to Raven?

  And I have to weigh whether this is more dangerous than whoever’s trying to hack me.

  “I understand,” Raven says quietly. Annalise doesn’t argue for her to stay, but she looks annoyed.

  Raven collects her things, putting her laptop in a case and pulling the strap over her shoulder. But before she leaves, she dips her chin to me.

  “Will you walk me out?” she asks. I’m not sure why she wants this of me explicitly, but sensing that she needs to talk, I agree.

  “Be right back,” I tell the girls, and I walk downstairs with Raven behind me. When we get onto the porch, I turn to her. Her expression is heavy.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. Birds chirp in the trees surrounding our house, and I’m momentarily distracted by them. They seem too loud, the light too bright beyond them.

  “I need you to know something,” Raven says seriously, drawing my attention back. “When I was looking inside Annalise’s programming, there were … problems.”

  My heart skips. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “There’s damage,” Raven says. “Physical damage. I’m guessing it’s related to whatever happened to her face.”

  “You couldn’t see her memories?” I ask, surprised she doesn’t already know that Guardian Bose is what happened to Annalise’s face.

  Raven is stunned by the question. “See memories?” she asks. “I don’t understand.”

  Anton could see what we were thinking when he would give us impulse control therapy. Did he have better equipment? A better understanding of what we were? Maybe Raven isn’t as smart as she claims.

  “Never mind,” I say quickly. “Now what does this damage mean for Annalise?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she says. “And to be clear, it’s entirely possible that you all have problems in your programming. It’s just … hers was prominent due to the gaps and dings in the metal and wires. As of right now,” Raven says, “I don’t see any behavioral issues. But”—she tilts her head from side to side—“we might want to consider reconstruction. Down the line, as her organs age, she’s going to need a fully active brain to keep her systems running.”

  “Is it dangerous?” I ask.

  “The reconstruction?” Raven sighs. “Yeah,” she says. “It would be. So think about it. Discuss it. Let me know what you decide.”

  “Thanks,” I say, glancing up at our apartment window. I’m protective and obstinate.

  I won’t let anything happen to Annalise. We’ve saved her before; we’ll do it again.

  Raven starts to leave, but I call her name. She pauses on the bottom step.

  “Can I ask you something? Something private?” I say.

  “Of course.”

  “When you said you could adjust certain things … ,” I say. “Can you fix fear?”

  “Fix?”

  “Take it away.”

  She watches me before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I could determine what’s acting as your amygdala. Then I’d restructure how it interprets fear. That might do it. If you’d like—”

  “No, I was just curious,” I say quickly. I’m not ready for Raven to mess around with my brain just yet. I’m still hoping it’ll just clear up on its own once we get out of this town.

  “How are your headaches doing?” Raven asks.

  “Fine.”

  She laughs. “Liar,” she says. She climbs back up the steps to pause in front of me. “Let me see your phone.”

  I hesitate for a second, but then I hand it over. She searches it, and I realize she’s making sure it hasn’t been compromised. There’s a small bit of relief.

  “Looks clean,” she says, and then starts tapping the screen.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Putting in my number,” she says. “In case you change your mind about the firewalls. Or … if you want to talk about anything else.”

  “Thank you,” I say, “but I have the girls.”

  “Sure, I know.” She finishes typing in her number and hands the phone back to me. “But sometimes it helps to have an outside opinion,” she says. “Especially an opinion that understands your default settings.”

  She presses her lips into a smile, and I thank her for coming by. As I watch her leave, I worry that I’ve missed my chance at protection. But seeing Annalise laid out on the couch, wires connected to her brain, terrified me.

  Not just because she could have been hurt. It terrified me to see so plainly that we’re not human. It terrified me because I don’t understand what we really are. And it’s that unknowing that will keep me from letting myself be vulnerable. To anyone.

  15

  Marcella returns home just as I get back inside. The girls and I sit down to discuss what Raven found in Annalise’s programming. Annalise is shocked at first, but then she traces one of her scars with her fingertip. Guardian Bose did more than physical damage to us, but the fact remains: He murdered Annalise. And now, that truth is once again on her mind.

  He destroyed part of her programming. Raven didn’t say which part; maybe she doesn’t even know. But I watch as Annalise stares out the window as if wondering herself.

  “Obviously we have to get it rebuilt,” Brynn says. Marcella winces, and Brynn turns to her. “What?” Brynn demands. “We can’t take the chance of something happening to Annalise.”

  “Of course not,” Marcella says, patting her leg. “I’m just urging some practicality here. Given time, any of us can learn about our programming systems. We’ll be able to fix ourselves—and each other—with the right tools and guidance.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Annalise asks, turning back to the room.

  “That we wait a little while longer,” Marcella says. “We wait until we can take care of ourselves. I’ll switch my research to our technology, our systems.” She smiles softly. “We can do it together,” she tells Annalise. “It’ll be our main focus.”

  “Shouldn’t the main focus be on the investor?” Sydney asks.

  “No,” Marcella says immediately. “Our focus is always on girls. We protect each other.”

  Sydney agrees and reaches over to take Annalise’s hand.

  “How long do you think it’ll take you to learn?” Brynn asks. “How do we know if Annalise has that much time?”

  “Raven didn’t make it seem imminent,” I interject. “I mean, she obviously wanted us to think and discuss it, but it didn’t sound like her system would fail tonight.”

  Annalise flinches and I quickly apologize for my casual tone on something so serious.

  “No, it’s okay,” Annalise says. “And I think Marcella’s right. I think we try to figure this out on our own. If we don’t, what if something else happens down the line? Being self-sufficient is important. No, it’s necessary to our survival.”

  We all agree, and we help Annalise and Marcella where we can as the afternoon wears on. Unfortunately, we don’t make much immediate progress, but Marcella vows to figure it out soon.

  We believe her. But we hope we have enough time to save Annalise.

  * * *

  Brynn sets a plate of dinner rolls on the table and comes to sit down next to Marcella. The light outside has faded into evening, and Sydney clicks on the lamp before taking a seat.

  Our first topic of discussion is the shocking development that Raven knows about Winston Weeks. We don’t quite understand what that means, where it places her loyalty. Because if Winston has several labs, why did Raven come to thi
s one? Like Sydney said: convenient.

  As for Winston, he explained why he was in this town. He’s searching for the investor too. But there’s no way he places articles online for people like Raven to discover. Unless, of course …

  I furrow my brow, stirring the food around in my bowl.

  Unless he was trying to attract people like Raven. If so, why does he want them here? What purpose could she serve him?

  I’ll have to talk to Winston again. But this time, I’ll be more prepared.

  After a long shower, I head to my room. I rub the towel over my hair and sit on the edge of my bed to think. The lights are on and the door is locked.

  I take out my new phone and examine it. The only number in my contacts belongs to Raven. I’ve memorized the girls’ new numbers. It’s better not to a have a list of contacts in my phone, just in case.

  I rub my palm along my upper arm, feeling the tender areas where the bruises from our escape have healed on the surface, leaving a dull ache underneath. I long for comfort, but I don’t even know what that would entail. There are parts of me that are ruined. Parts that I wish I could get back.

  What did I read once? Ignorance is bliss. For a second, I understand that quote. But then I decide that it’s not bliss. Ignorance is being controlled, held from knowledge that would otherwise dramatically affect you. Was it bliss when the school was controlling everything from what I ate to the thoughts I was allowed to think? No.

  But I do have to change something. I’ve been hoping that once the corporation was gone, I’d feel … normal. But realistically, I don’t have a normal setting.

  I stare at my phone. The last time I felt “normal” was lying in bed with Jackson immediately after our escape—a rare moment of peace. Everything since then has been running, and plotting, and faking nice with strangers.

  I’ve shut the girls out. I’ve shut everyone out.

  My fingers graze the screen, until suddenly, I dial Jackson’s number. I squeeze my eyes shut and bring the phone to my ear, listening as it rings. I don’t even know if he’s okay. If he hates me for telling Quentin the truth about us.

  And then the line clicks.

  “Hello?” Jackson says in his raspy voice. He sounds miserable and tired. “Hello?” he repeats, followed by a sudden intake of air. He pauses.

  I hear the phone shift against his face, his gentle breathing. He doesn’t say anything else. He just listens.

  I want to tell him that I miss talking to him. I want to tell him that terrible things are happening to me. I want to tell him how scared I am.

  I want to tell him everything.

  But I hang up instead and set my phone aside. Tears spill onto my cheeks, and I get up to check the lock on my bedroom door one more time.

  * * *

  There are voices in the living room. That’s my first thought as my eyes open, blurrily searching for the clock. It’s just past four a.m. I quickly bang my hand along the nightstand, looking for a weapon of some kind. The best I can do is the alarm clock, and I get out of bed and quietly yank the plug from the socket. I wield the clock in front of me and go to stand beside my door, listening.

  I’m confused at the sounds until I realize the male voices I’m hearing also have car horns behind them. The sound of traffic. A woman.

  I relax slightly. Someone left the TV on. I set the clock aside and open the door to head out into the living room. The room is lit up from the television screen, and I notice Annalise immediately.

  She’s wedged against the corner of the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees as lights from the television play across her face. She stares at it, almost dazed.

  “Annalise,” I call softly so as not to startle her. She glances over at me but doesn’t register surprise. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Why are you up?”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she says dreamily. Her eyes drift back to the television.

  I walk over to the couch, worried, and wonder if I should wake the other girls.

  “They won’t leave me alone,” Annalise whispers, staring straight ahead.

  “Who?” I look around the room, but when I turn back to Annalise, she closes her eyes.

  “The memories,” she says. “The memories won’t leave me alone.”

  I ease onto the couch beside her, and she rests her head on the arm of the sofa.

  “I see him still,” she murmurs, her voice thick with tears. “The Guardian. I feel his hands in my hair, slamming me against the wall. I can still feel …” She touches the scar on her face, running her finger over her closed eye. “I can feel the sharp porcelain tearing through my skin.”

  She begins to cry, and immediately, I cry too. I was there. I saw what the Guardian did to her, did to all of us.

  “Why did he hate me so much?” she asks. “Why do they all hate us so much?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head.

  Annalise sniffles. “Why are men obsessed with controlling us? Is it because they created us, and now they think they should own us?”

  I stare at her for a long moment. “It’s not just us,” I say. “They treat human girls the same way. And, in fact, they created us so they could have even more power. Somewhere along the way, their society taught them that cruelty was mandatory to be a real man. They even train women to believe that.”

  “So how do I make this stop?” Annalise asks, tapping her temple. “How do I stop their cruelty? Kill them all?”

  I swallow hard. It’s not the first time she’s suggested it.

  “That would make us no better than them,” I say. “No, we fight back by holding the evil ones accountable. And then, we change society. We show them that teaching cruelty and dominance is harmful to both them and the world. They have to learn.”

  “They’re not going to listen to us,” Annalise says bitterly.

  “Not yet,” I agree. “But if we push enough, if we demand hard enough, it’ll happen.”

  I know my words are lies. Ideal, sure. But how do we fight back against something so powerful without disruption? We must disrupt them.

  “I need you to promise me something,” Annalise says.

  “Anything.”

  “Never let another man control me,” she says. “I’d rather be dead than be a prisoner to their warped sense of my worth. I’d rather be dead.”

  “Annalise …”

  “Promise me,” she says forcefully, sitting up. “If they take us, if they …” Her voice breaks. “If they take me again … you stop them or you shut me down. Do you understand?”

  “I could never hurt you.”

  “I’m demanding it,” Annalise says. “I’m demanding it of you, Mena.”

  Tears stream down her face, following along the ridges of her scar. I would never kill her. Could never. I’d lie down and die myself before I did that.

  “I promise that no man will ever control you again,” I say instead.

  She relaxes slightly and leans against the couch again, staring at the television screen. “Will you stay with me awhile?” she asks.

  “Of course.” I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and lay it over her. She looks lost, and I wonder about the problems Raven saw in Annalise’s programming. She didn’t think they would affect her immediately, but what if they are? What if they’re causing her mind to play her worst memories on a loop? After all, the doctor gave us the ability to retain memories so we’d learn fear and obedience. I look sideways at Annalise.

  Was this his intention? A form of torture for girls who didn’t listen? The men and investors of Innovations Academy designed us for abuse.

  And in a way, they’re still accomplishing that.

  Disruption

  How do you take a man’s crown?

  One that wasn’t earned

  Wasn’t deserved

  Wasn’t his to own.

  A self-appointed leader

  Is no leader at all.

  We must disrupt.

  We must engage.

&n
bsp; We must destroy.

  No man will give up power

  Not when he’s been taught it’s his.

  But no man will have power over me

  Not if he wants to keep his head.

  We’ll knock down his castle

  And build our own.

  We’ll toss his body into the moat

  And teach his sons better.

  There is no room for compromise

  Not when he’s burned us at stakes.

  There is only room for a queen

  Who will be just

  And fair

  And strong.

  First we disrupt.

  Then we engage.

  And then

  We destroy.

  Part II Be a girl to make them proud afraid

  16

  In the morning, Annalise doesn’t mention our night watching old movies on the couch. She seems better, or at least clearer. For that I’m grateful. It pained me to see her so upset.

  Over breakfast, the girls and I evaluate our situation. We’ll stay clear of Winston Weeks; we didn’t come here for him. We don’t need him. We also won’t tell Raven that we know him, just in case she has designs on using us to get to him.

  For now, we stick to our plan. So far, we have a few possible suspects. There are three or four players on the rugby team—including Jonah Grant, who stands out because of the way the other boys seem to follow him. Lyle’s on the list, but after Marcella did a little digging, he doesn’t seem the type. Still, his family history is concerning. His dad sounds awful.

  Marcella searched for information about all their parents, but nothing unusual turned up, at least not publicly. Marcella threw out the idea that Raven could hack the bank records and see where they’re spending their money. We’re considering it, but we’re understandably cautious about how much we’re letting Raven into our lives. Besides, it’s doubtful the money is funded to Innovations so openly.