She'd finally found a guy who understood her in a way no one else had, someone who made her feel strong and beautiful and alive, someone whose kisses set her body on fire. And her brother had to stick his damn nose in and suck all the joy from her experience. Her twin was only looking out for her, and yes, he'd always had her back, but she'd grown up and could make her own decisions. She didn't need his approval to date a guy. Granted, she didn't know a lot about Hunter, but that was the point of dating, right? To get to know someone better? Besides, her instincts were rarely wrong about people, and her para-power confirmed that he hadn't lied to her. Hunter was the kind of guy Lucy wanted to be with—strong, smart, sexy, caring and committed to his work.
Her mind drifted back to the kiss, to the feel of his lips and his arms wrapped around her. She couldn't wait to see him again tomorrow. Hopefully Luke would go back to normal. They'd had such fun today, and she didn't want to lose him to his brooding, mopey double. Why couldn't he just trust her and give Hunter a chance?
A soft pulsing filled her body with warmth. She reached into her pocket and took out the sphere. It glowed with a comforting light and immediately calmed her—until her argument with Mr. K popped into her mind. Did he remember what she did to him? If so, why hadn't he said something?
Damnit, I have to talk to him. She hated this guilt and unease.
With the sphere secure inside, she strapped the pack to her shoulders and made her way to Mr. K's mini Garden of Eden.
Mr. K smiled as she approached, but his branches slumped and wilted. He looked tired. "Lucy, I'm glad you came over. Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have given Hunter such a hard time."
His apology made her feel even worse. "You were both upset. It's understandable."
"Just because it's understandable doesn't make it right."
She nodded. "You're right, it doesn't. Look, Mr. K, I'm sorry about last night. About... what I did to you."
Mr. K looked into her for several long seconds before he spoke again. "You did what you felt you needed to. I understand."
Lucy's lips twitched into a wry grin. "Just because you understand, doesn't make it right. I lost control and compelled you to lie. That's not me."
His branches shook as he chuckled. "Let me tell you a story, Lucy. Take a seat. This is a long one."
The boulder next to Mr. K had become her customary seat while visiting with him. An indent fit her perfectly as she sank into her spot to listen.
As he spoke, Mr. K's branches swayed in response to his mood. "The day after they took me from Rent-A-Kid, I woke up strapped to a bed, needles and wires jabbing out of my body, tape over my mouth. This man came in, dressed up in white with a blue mask, like a doctor, and introduced himself as Bill. Then he injected me with a serum."
Lucy shuddered, remembering her own injections at the hands of Rent-A-Kid—injections to keep her complacent and happy, injections to prime her for pregnancy.
"It hurt," Mr. K continued. "It hurt like acid being pumped through my veins, and they didn't give me any pain medication—that would've messed up their tests. After Bill finished, he gave me a pat on the head, said 'Good job' like I was his dog, and left. It took hours, but the pain eventually went away. Next day, Bill came in and gave me another injection. I groaned, pulled, twisted—tried anything to get out of those straps, to ask what I'd done. Why me? Bill gave me another pat on the head, another 'Good job,' and left. He did this for days, always the same routine. 'Hello, Mr. Krevner. Good job, Mr. Krevner.' And all the while I kept thinking, 'Do you realize that you're hurting another human being? Do you even care?' As time went on, the pain built. First, I occupied myself with thinking up escape plans, but nothing worked, so I stopped. As far as I could tell, Bill's tests showed no results, and I began to think that I was going to spend the rest of my life locked in that room. Then, one night, I thought of something else."
Lucy could see where this was headed, but she remained still, feeling Mr. K's pain. His branches whipped back and forth in agitation as the story continued.
"Bill came in and began his daily routine. And all the while I imagined myself ripping off my straps, jumping out of the bed, and beating his face bloody. Then I would escape. It didn't calm me down when the pain seared my body, but breaking out of those straps, punching Bill's face in—that helped. Day after day passed without change, until finally I started to feel the serum pulsing through my veins. A gray tint spread through them, and my muscles bulged against the straps, burning my arms and chest. Whatever Bill had given me, it was working. So that night, I showed him the results of his experiments.
"He came in, 'Hello, Mr. Krevner,' lifted the needle as he walked over to the bed, and leaned down for the injection. My hand shot out and clasped his throat. I'd torn the straps off my arm with my new-found strength. I leaned up, and the rest of the straps broke away. That's how strong they'd made me. With a flick of the wrist, Bill tumbled into a corner. I headed for the door, but something hit me on the back, and I spun around without thinking, swinging my arm. My hand hit Bill, who had come at me with a chair, across the face, and he flew back. His head hit the bed with a crack, and he collapsed on the ground, silent.