Omega The Girl in the Box

3.



I walked back across the campus after my meeting with Ariadne and Old Man Winter, his words echoing in my ears. Why did Omega want me? I wondered, too, and had since they’d first sent Wolfe after me almost a year ago. The leaves blew around my ankles as an eddy of wind formed, causing them to drift up in a whirlwind around me. I blinked and took my hands out of my pockets as two of them, maple leaves, ran across my face and tickled my nose. I saw Reed, his fingers extended to the glass from the lobby, a smile on his face. When he saw he’d caught my attention, he dropped his hand and the wind around me faded, the leaves drifting away.

He held the door for me as I walked up, my hands again snugged in the pockets of my coat. “Heya, brother,” I said in as casual a tone as I could as I walked past.

“Heya, sis,” he said, and let the door swing shut after I passed then opened the next for me. “How was your meeting? Or should I call it an ass-chewing?”

“Hardly.” I walked into the lobby of the dormitory. It was a wide area, oblong and directed down two hallways to the left and right, the two respective wings of the dormitory. Directly in front of us was the entrance to the cafeteria. People were already lined up out the door for dinner; it was close to time. I was hungry, but I wouldn’t be eating there tonight. “They just wanted to be sure I didn’t hesitate to kill next time rather than let myself go into danger.”

“I was wondering about that myself,” Reed said, and I stopped, feeling my brow crumple as I gave him a look. The aromas of food came from within the cafeteria—meatloaf, I thought with a cringe. I could hear the chatter, some hushed whispers of a few newer metas talking about me in quiet undertones from near where the line formed for the cafeteria.

“Oh?” I let my head swivel; in a normal situation I’d have been looking for a threat. In this case, I was withering a nearby teenage boy with a glare for staring at me. He had brown hair and glasses, and he didn’t look away from me, didn’t turn red, didn’t break eye contact. Annoying. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Reed said, lowering his head from the top of his lanky frame as though he were trying to bring it into view for me because I was much shorter than him, “Fries had a bead on you. He would have killed you, no hesitation. But you? You didn’t fire, even though you could have.”

“I was told to get him alive, so I got him alive,” I said with only a little hostility. Defensive much?

“And if they’d told you to bring him dead?” Reed’s right eyebrow was higher than the other. He held eye contact with me just a second too long for my taste. When I didn’t answer, he spoke again. “Why are you trying to scare off the newbs with your frightening glare?”

“I don’t like the way they look at me,” I said, turning back to the teenager who I’d caught staring. “Like I’m some kind of freak.”

“Umm, no,” he said. “They’re not looking at you like you’re some kind of freak.”

I frowned at him. “What are you talking about? They stare, they whisper—it’s a full-blown epidemic of gossip, just like it has been since the beginning—”

“Wrong,” Reed said with a little more energy and a slight smile. “Some of that, yeah. But they’re staring at you because they’re teenage boys, and because you’re—”

“What?” I let my voice rise and drew looks. “You’re way off.”

“Not so. You may be my sister—”

“Half-sister,” I corrected.

“—but yeah, I still know. And they’re not looking because they’re gossiping.”

“Awkward,” I said with raised eyebrows. “But thanks for that.”

He shrugged, but wore a smile. “I’m here to help.” His face shifted a little, expression almost pensive. “I never asked you this, but you really didn’t know I was your...?”

I let my face scrunch up to show my incredulity. “How would I have known that? Do you think my mother gave me a lesson in family history?”

“Just curious.” His eyes went back to the teenaged boys in line behind me, and I followed his gaze. All but the one with glasses averted their eyes before we caught them looking. The one with glasses, he didn’t seem to care, staring back at me, absolutely cool. “So you didn’t ever feel like...” Reed let his words trail off.

“Like what?” I tore my eyes away from the teenager in line and looked back to Reed. “Like you were an awkward teenage boy?”

“Hah! No.” He nodded toward the kid again. “You know...like he is towards you, but...towards me? Because you didn’t know?”

A slow dawning came over me. “What? You mean like...” my voice turned hushed, “romantic? Ugh. Awkward much? No. No, never.” I watched his olive skin darken and his brow furrowed. “I mean, nothing personal, you’re a good guy, but—”

“Yeah.” He held up a hand in a dismissive wave. “Friend zone. I got it.”

“You’re my brother, for crying out loud!” I kept my exclamation to a low whisper, but I still drew some swiveled heads.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that,” he said, and nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. After a minute he grinned, and I shook my head, a smile of my own on my face. “Just needling you. You know, you should probably smile more often, Ms. Squad Leader. Maybe be more approachable. You might end up expanding your circle of friends.”

“I’m good for now, I think. See you in a little bit?”

“I’ll be there,” he promised, and gave me a wave as he turned and walked out of the dormitory.

I watched him go, then turned and caught that teenager and his friends looking at me again. I shook my head and walked to the elevator bank just down the hall and pressed the button, causing a loud ding to sound immediately as one of the elevators opened for me. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor, and waited for the doors to close as I pondered Reed’s words. I had imagined myself to be rumored about in unkind ways, just as I had been a few months ago. It had always been that way for as long as I’d been at the Directorate, since I stood by and let Ariadne and Old Man Winter protect me while Wolfe was slaughtering his way through innocent people to get me to surrender to him.

The thought of people talking badly about me was nothing new, and easily enough dealt with; I had friends to help me cope, after all. The thought of people talking about me in more pleasant terms—for some reason, that bothered me. I had seen people steer away from me in the halls, and I preferred the idea of being feared to the idea of being lusted after. It creeped me out and brought back associations with Wolfe in unfavorable ways.

I felt a stir in the back of my head as the doors dinged open, and I realized it had been almost twenty-four hours since my last dose of chloridamide, the medication that kept my demons in check. Wolfe and Gavrikov were with me, always, and I could feel them through the medication sometimes, moving in the back of my head, like faint voices in an empty room. The chloridamide made it possible to (mostly) ignore them, to shut them away where I didn’t have to deal with them on a constant basis. A couple months ago I had gone a day with a diminished dose to see if I could control them naturally; the increased chatter from the two of them was exhausting. They fought over the most inane things, bickering enough that after three hours I had no desire to listen anymore and took a shot of chloridamide just to shut them up.

I stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor, and walked down an open hall. To my left was a series of windows that looked down on the cubed structure of the cafeteria and to my right were doors, spaced every hundred feet or so down the hallway. The paint was fresh white, and the pungent smell of the primer and lacquer was still in the air. I took a deep breath of it, trying to ignore the fact that the chemical was probably not healthy for me. It made the place smell new, fancy, as if it had been built just for us—which it sort of had. I walked past four doors before I came to one marked with a gold plate that saidss “S. Nealon” on it. I heard the scanner next to the door beep as it reacted to the proximity of the key card I had in my pocket, and I reached for the handle and opened the door.

I had lived on the first floor of the dorms for most of the time I had been at the Directorate, but a few months ago, when I left training, Ariadne handed me a key card and pointed me to the third floor. I’d never explored up here, and I found to my surprise that this was where M-Squad lived. It required a key card on your person to even access the floor, and there were only the eight of us up here—the four members of M-Squad, Kat, Scott, Reed and myself. There was a fourth floor, of course, and I knew Ariadne and Old Man Winter both had quarters up there. I’d seen it only once myself, though.

My suite was light, open and spacious—lots of sunlight pouring down from the three paneled windows that opened into the living room, which was two steps down from the entryway where I came in. There was a kitchenette to my left and a subtle dividing half-wall that ran between the kitchenette and the living room. A set of French doors opened onto a balcony just beyond my living room, and the ceilings were high enough that even as a meta, I’d have had to put some effort into jumping to touch them.

The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds and was lighting the room beautifully; it wasn’t long until sundown, however, and I had a few things to accomplish before then. I went to the fridge, a new, beautiful stainless-steel model, and opened it. A few party trays were sitting on the shelves, with twelve-packs of cola. Along with my new quarters, I had access to a pool of assistants who could run my errands for me, paid for by the Directorate. I had sent one of the gophers to a local catering company to pick up some hors d’oeuvres earlier—finger sandwiches, miniature pastries, and a few other things for what I had planned for this evening. I pulled the trays out and set them on the table in the dining area.

I opened one of the cartons of cocktail wieners, smelled the rich, sweet barbecue and smiled. I pulled the toothpicks out of the cabinet and speared one through the middle, taking a bite. The fat had settled into the sauce, and it was delicious, a sweet tangy flavor almost melting on my tongue. I poured them into a porcelain bowl and stuck them into the microwave per the directions taped to the top of the dish. While they were warming, I pulled an ice bucket from below the sink and filled it from the freezer. When I was done, I grabbed the soft drinks and started burying them in the ice.

I heard a knock at the door and froze, my eyes turning toward the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes early; I smiled and walked to the door.

When I opened it, Zack was standing outside, a bottle of wine in his hands. I looked at it and gave him a smile. “It’s illegal for anyone under the age of twenty-one to partake in that, you know.”

“I’m here to make sure you kids don’t get out of control,” he said. “This is for later, for the two of us.” He glanced at the label. “Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon.”

“Ah,” I said with a nod, letting my smile thin my lips. “I’ll pass, but you can have as much as you want.”

“None?” He asked with mocking grace, holding the bottle up by the neck. “You can’t think of anything we should celebrate? Like, for example, your first successful mission as team leader of the new second rank of M-Squad?”

“Ah, yes, my role as the venerated leader of the B-team,” I said with a forced smile. “I’m glad the mission went well, but we should probably save the celebrating for something big, not the forced abduction of a third-rate jackass.”

“You really don’t want to celebrate?” His face fell a degree, and I watched the bottle lower a little.

“I do,” I said, and beckoned him in, giving him a very brief kiss on the lips. “But you know I’m not that keen on alcohol at this point...for obvious reasons,” I watched his face contort slightly as I said this; it soured and he forced a smile, “so as long as you’re all right with me toasting with a cola, I’m okay with it.”

“I’m all right with you toasting without alcohol,” he said as he brushed past me. I felt his hand run along the line of my belly, a soft caress as I leaned against the wall to let him enter my quarters. “Looks like you’re really taking movie night seriously,” he said as he cleared the wall and turned his attention to the food already on the table.

“I just want everyone to have fun,” I said as I closed the door. “Help me get the last of the stuff out?”

“Sure.”

With Zack’s help everything was ready long before the next knock at the door—Reed, at a minute to five, and then Scott and Kat at five after.

“Reed, we need to get you a girl,” Kat said with a frown as we all stood around the living room.

“You don’t like me hanging around like a fifth wheel?” He asked as he scooped ice into a red plastic cup and poured cola over it—or pop, as they called it in Minnesota. Having learned everything in my life from television, I was still adjusting to that one.

“I just figure you’d be more comfortable with a girl of your own,” she said, prompting Scott to nod his head in agreement. “You know, maybe help you feel less awkward when we hang out.”

“Awkward? I’m just trying to be respectful of my sister’s feelings,” he said. “I figure having one more couple hanging around being overly handsy would probably just be salt on the wound.” He turned his back on Kat and Scott, hiding a grin from the blond girl as she froze, Scott’s hand planted on her hip, her back pressed to his chest. They looked like they were glued together most of the time. I couldn’t deny that, but I never resented them for their ability to demonstrate affection.

Kat broke from Scott self-consciously, causing Scott’s brow to pucker in a frown. He held himself awkwardly without her pressed against him, as though someone had yanked a blanket off him. She stood a foot away, shuffling back and forth on her feet with a forced smile planted on her lips. “What’s that all about?” Scott asked. “Just because Sienna and Zack can’t touch doesn’t mean we can’t.”

“It’s fine,” I said with stifled amusement. “Really. We’re okay, honest. It doesn’t bother me if you guys are all lovey-dovey around us; I doubt I’d be that way even without my...” I let my eyes drift to Zack, who looked away, “...condition.”

“See?” Scott leaned forward and his hand landed back on Kat’s hip. She reddened, but made no move to displace it. “Sienna’s a good sport about it.” He pulled her tight to him again. Kat, for her part, held her body at an angle from his, as though she were trying to touch as little of him as she could get away with.

“If you two do get too frisky, though,” I said, stirring the cocktail wieners in their bowl, “I will turn loose the firehose on you.”

“Try it,” Scott said. “I bet the water ends up going somewhere unexpected—like the front of your boyfriend’s pants.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Reed said. “I have a feeling the wind might catch it and turn your girlfriend into a wet t-shirt contest winner.” I heard a snicker from Zack and saw Scott’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter as Kat remained posed awkwardly.

“Have you guys ever combined your powers to make, like, a water twister?” Zack looked from Scott to Reed, and I watched the silent conversation between the two of them as they both gave it a moment of thought.

“That’s kind of a cool idea,” Scott said, and separated himself from Kat with all the effort of turning loose a feline held against its will . “Should we?”

“Not in here,” I said, replacing the lid on the dish and putting the spoon in its rest, splattering barbecue sauce on my tablecloth. “I need a metahuman power experiment in my quarters like I need Ariadne to dock my pay for a major remodel.”

“Outside?” Scott suggested.

“Let’s do it.”

The two of them went through the French doors to the balcony, Zack a few steps behind them. Kat remained behind on the sofa, her face pressed into her hands. There was a light chill as the doors opened and shut, a gust of wind as they went out and Reed held the door for Zack. When Zack shut it behind him he gave me a little wave through the glass. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me through the tinted pane, I waved back.

“Things seem to be going smoothly again between you two,” Kat said. I noted a wet handprint on the side of her white jeans and my hand came up to indicate it with a point. “Hm?” She looked down. “Oh, yeah. When Scott gets excited, sometimes he gets a little, uh...out of control with his power, doesn’t realize he’s using it.” She flushed and looked out the French doors to the balcony, where Reed and Scott stood side by side, Zack a few feet away at the edge of the terrace.

“Yeah, Zack and I are doing better,” I said. “It’s easier now, somehow, since we broke up and got back together, I guess.” I grabbed a mini sub sandwich that had been sliced into one-inch segments, and took a bite. Roast beef, turkey, ham, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard combined in my mouth with oil and vinegar. “Seems like that cut some of the tension out of the relationship, the inflated expectation because we’ll never be able to, uh...well,” I hemmed, “you know.”

Kat’s eyebrows rose. “Have sex?”

“Yeah. That.”

“So you don’t know how your mom did it with your dad?”

“Kind of, I think,” I said, pinching the sandwich between my fingers with enough force that it pulped and I mashed it into my mouth before it came apart. “But I mean...I don’t know. It doesn’t seem very romantic, what I’ve figured out. There’s not a lot of contact, you have to wear protection, it just seems...” I shrugged. “Cold. Calculating. Like Mom, I guess. Not warm and affectionate at all, everything at a distance except...well. Pretty sure I was an accident based on what she told me. I don’t know, we’ve been doing...” I felt myself redden, “other stuff that seems to make him happy, so I haven’t really wanted to venture into dangerous territory by trying something potentially fatal.”

Her eyes widened. “‘Potentially fatal’ does seem to be on the far side of exciting.”

“Not quite the kind of excitement I’m looking for, no...”

There was a noise out on the balcony, and I looked up to see Scott throw his hands in the air in exultation. “YES!” I heard him call through the glass.

“Oh, good, they’ve created an elemental disaster that they’re super excited about,” Kat said without any enthusiasm. “Do you suppose he’ll notice if I’m not as thrilled about it as he is?”

I watched Scott turn around as the three of them came back toward the door, heading inside. “Nope,” I said, “He’s gonna be happy about this whether you are or not.”

“That. Was. Amazing!” Scott said as they opened the door again, letting the chill wind follow them inside. Reed and Zack trailed behind him. “We totally did it, created a waterspout right in the middle of the lawn, out of nothing—”

“Yes,” Zack said, unimpressed, “and promptly ran it over a line of meta teens that were leaving the building.”

“Pfeh,” Scott said with a wave of the hand. “Nobody got hurt.”

“No,” Reed said, “but that one kid looked scared as hell when he flew about ten feet into the air.” I watched my brother’s expression; he did not seem pleased.

Scott snickered. “Yeah, but...it was funny. You could have just dropped him the minute he walked into the path of it, you know.”

“First of all,” Reed said, “he didn’t walk into the path of it so much as he veered like a moron into it and got sucked into the air, second, I didn’t want to drop him because he was at least ten feet off the ground, third,” he reddened, “I bet he never stares at Sienna in the cafeteria line again.”

“Aww, you were taking up for my honor?” I gave him a fake smile. “The little one with glasses?” Reed shook his head. “Oh, well, still, how sweet. Next time, though, run your water tornado into Clary’s room and wash the place out. Of course, that’d be a labor on par with cleaning out the Augean stables, though I bet it’d take more than a day, even if you used the entire Mississippi...”

“Can we get the movie going?” Scott asked, wiping his hands on his pants and leaving behind dark water marks where he touched. “I don’t want to be out too late tonight.”

“Why?” Zack asked, peering at him with snarky amusement. “You afraid of the dark or are you gonna start going to bed early like an old man?”

“Yep,” Scott said with a nod as he slid back onto the couch in front of my widescreen TV, “I am going to bed early tonight. I want to be in bed by nine so I can be back out again before ten.”

“Why would you go to bed just so you can get back up again?” Kat asked with a frown. “That doesn’t make any sense— oh.” The rest of us remained silent as her hand came up to her face, covering it from sight.

“Movie?” Scott asked again, a Cheshire smile twisting his lips into a grin as he turned his head around to look at me, still at the table.

After starting the movie, I settled down and let myself begin to relax, my preparations done. The couches were set up in a right angle in the little pit that was my living room. Scott and Kat sat on one couch, Kat’s head resting on Scott’s shoulder, her blond hair entangled in his brown, fuzzy mohair-looking sweater. I pondered that fashion statement until I realized she was wearing a similar one and that she had picked the ensemble out for both of them.

Reed sat next to me, slouching against the big, overstuffed armrest. He turned his head to give me a casual look. I didn’t blame him for keeping his distance; after all, a brush of skin contact with me for more than a few seconds was painful. I returned his smile and watched him lean his head against the back of the couch, his focus back on the TV screen where Keanu Reeves was running into a flip off a pillar as bullets tore the lobby of the building apart around him, gray stone turning to dust and flashing through the air as he moved in slow motion.

“I could do that,” I said under my breath. The bullets fly around Keanu and his billowing black trench coat as he kicked a black-clad guard so hard the man flew through the air.

“That looks so fake,” Scott said. “How old is this movie, anyway?”

“1999,” Zack said. “I was in middle school at the time, and it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen when my dad rented it for us to watch.”

“You’re kinda like that creepy thirty-year old guy that waits for his teenage girlfriend outside the local high school,” Scott said, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “He’s twenty-five and I’m eighteen. Your girlfriend had a centennial.”

“What?” Kat’s ears perked up. “Yeah, but I don’t remember any of it. I’m just as mature as you guys.”

“Setting the bar kinda low there, Princess,” Reed said under his breath.

I saw Scott laugh, his face split into a wide grin. “She may not remember any of it, but I’m telling you she’s got muscle memory from—”

Kat slapped him on the shoulder, her mouth open in faux outrage. “Shush!”

“I rest my case,” Reed said with an upturned eyebrow.

It got quiet again after that and the noise of the onscreen action took over. I leaned my head against Zack’s arm, and felt his heavy sweater against the back of my neck. I lolled my head to look at him as he watched the movie, focused intently on the screen. He was handsome, still as much so as the first time I had seen him. His spiked sandy blond hair and brown eyes were winning combination to me. My eyes followed his smooth jawline, and I found myself wanting to reach out and run my fingers over his face, no glove, but I resisted. I settled against his arm and watched the movie, feeling warm. The smell of the food and the light dab of my boyfriend’s cologne combined into a single, hearty, familiar aroma that put me at ease.

The last light was dying outside the windows, the sun sinking below the horizon. The flickering of the TV from the movie was reassuring, and kept me looking back even as my eyelids started to get heavy. I took a slow breath, and a moment later I jerked back to wakefulness. The sun was gone, the TV was off, and Zack was looking at me with a faint smile.

“Did I fall asleep?” I asked, blinking at him.

“Yep,” he said, still sweetly endearing. He had a glove on his hand, and it brushed against my cheek, coming to rest next to my eye as he kissed me on the temple.

I looked around; the couches were empty. “Everyone else...did they leave?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “They left a while ago, when the movie was over. We didn’t want to wake you.”

“Did they at least have fun?”

“Yes,” he said and brushed his hand against my hair, stirring my bangs.

“Oh, good.” I ran a gloved hand over my face, as though I could brush the sleepiness out of my eye. I felt wetness at the corner of my mouth and wiped at it. “Was I drooling?”

He laughed under his breath. “Just a little.”

I felt sleep bear down on me again, teasing my eyes to close. “Okay. If they’re all gone, I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” he said in a whisper. “I’ll carry you to your room.” I didn’t protest as I felt him take up my weight and lift me from the couch. I heard him strain as he did it, but every step was smooth, and he was warm; I was pressed against his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt, with his smell filling my nose.

He lay me down on the bed and I felt his lips again, this time on mine. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Stay,” I said, and my hand went to his face, and I traced the line of his jaw as I watched him through half-closed eyes.

“You want me to?”

“Mmmhmm.”

I rolled to the far side of the bed and felt it shift as he got in, but he kept a foot of space between us. It was the only way to be sure I wouldn’t accidentally roll over in the middle of the night and press my face against his. I could hear his breathing in the darkened room. The lamps outside radiated a faint glow that spread along the ceiling and the corners of the room. After a moment I heard him murmur something. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too, Zack.” My hand made its way across the bed and found his in the usual place, and I felt our fingers interlace through the leather both of us wore. It should have been so cold, so distant, but I felt the warm reassurance of his touch, even through the cowhide. I threaded my fingers through his and gave a gentle squeeze before I drifted off again.

“Hey,” Zack said, his face clear in front of mine. We lay on the bed, and the light was more intense now, sparkling against the walls, almost surreal. Zack’s skin carried a darker tone, as though the shadows around the room infused it, casting him in stark black and white contrast.

“Hey,” I said, and reached out. My gloves were gone, and so were my sleeves, and everything else. Naked, my fingers brushed against his jaw, he drew a sharp breath and his eyes closed. “Hurts?”

“Just the opposite,” he said, suddenly close to me, his skin pressed against mine. “I could stand some more of it.” He smiled without showing his teeth. “So, does this make you the girl of my dreams?”

“You always use that cheesy line, you know.”

His kisses were like fire, like a sweet hot shade of touch. I knew they weren’t real, yet they felt fuller than the real thing. I looked into his eyes and felt the stir of something else there, like I could look deeper into him, and I resisted the call from within to do it. I focused on the sense of his skin against mine in the dream, and held onto that moment, that feeling.

“How do you do this?” he moaned as I ran a hand over his chest, causing him to tingle.

I could feel what he felt as I did it. “Dreamwalking is part of my metahuman abilities,” I said, kissing him on the neck and sending him into ecstasy. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling that the other people you’ve talked to in your dreams didn’t get this...” He shuddered, his mouth opened slightly and he let out short, gasping breaths, “...sensation from being in a dream with you.”

“True,” I said, and kissed him on the bicep, causing him to sigh loudly. “But that’s because with them, I was insubstantial; a ghost without touch.” I felt myself fade into a shadow, as though I had become blurry, and I passed through him, reappearing at his back, where I planted a series of slow kisses and a caress along his shoulder, causing him to shudder. “I’m only real in your dreams.”

“I’m...not complaining. But you seem pretty real when I’m awake, too.”

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me there. Not like this. Not like here. I wish we could...” I ran a hand over his shoulder.

“This is working plenty well enough for me,” he said and moaned again as I traced my fingers along his spine. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever...it’s just...so good.”

I smiled and kissed him again, back in front of him now. I looked into his eyes through the haze of the dreamwalk, and I paused. His eyes were normally perfect, creamy brown, like the color of sugared and creamed coffee. “What?” he moaned as I hesitated, and he pushed himself against me again, brushing against my skin, and he sighed, a little noise of ecstasy. I held fast, though, unmoving, as he moaned in pleasure from the feel of my skin against his in this dream world, and he dissolved into the sounds of a man deeply, totally satisfied.

I held back though, frozen, unable to move, locked into the dream and the horror of thoughts I couldn’t—wouldn’t—share with him.

His brown eyes were gone, replaced with blue—bright, crystalline, cerulean—exactly like the ones I saw when I looked in the mirror every morning.