Chapter 3

"Do you know what today is?" Dr. Gatsbro asks.

I look at Kara. In a microsecond, rage flashes past her eyes, but then it carefully becomes the smile the doctor expects to see.

"One year since we woke," I say. Time is not a subject that we like to be reminded of, but better I answer than Kara.

"That's right!" Dr. Gatsbro says happily, like he is acknowledging a birthday. "And it--"

"It's about time we venture out into the world, right, Doc?"

"Kara, dear, we talked about this in the garden. In good time. When I feel you're ready."

Which will be never, you pompous asshole.

Kara's thoughts, not mine. I still hear them occasionally, even when I don't want to.

"But I do have something special to mark the occasion. A visitor."

He studies our faces to see our reactions. Kara hesitates for only a moment and then smiles, good girl that she is. Whatever he sees on my face, he doesn't like. Or maybe I have lapsed again, losing track of time and space as I often do, drifting to before, sucked back into my dark thoughts.

"Does a visitor disturb you, Locke?"

I'm quick to recover. "No. It's a surprise, is all. A good one. It will be very nice to meet someone new."

"Tired of my company?"

"No." I sit up straighter and smile, at the same time angry with him for making me afraid. I feel like I've been afraid forever, conscious of every step I take, and for the briefest moment, I imagine my hands as enormous and strong and his skull as small and fragile as an egg.

Kara giggles. Do it.

I shoot her a startled glance. Dr. Gatsbro has been nothing but good to us. He's our savior. I remember that. He's the only friend we have now, besides the hired help at the estate. There is Miesha, who is our attendant by day; Cole, who is there for us at night; Hari, who monitors our health and creates activities for us; and Greta, who prepares our meals. As Dr. Gatsbro puts it, we live a life of privilege.

"Who's coming?" I ask, leaning forward, trying to meet his eagerness halfway. I raise my brows and pull back one corner of my mouth in a grin. I know he responds to that facial expression.

He leans back, satisfied, tapping his fingertips together. "First, a little review. I want to make sure you're prepared for our visitor. And, Locke," he says, leaning forward, "I want you to work especially hard on your lapses. Focus. Our visitor might not understand. It's essential that he see how truly exceptional you both are."

Essential?

"Of course," I answer. My lapses are fewer now, but when your mind has grown accustomed to wallowing down endless black corridors for decades, it can't be retrained overnight to move from one present thought to another. Drifting was my default mode and the one I used to survive. I still use it. Lapse is not a dirty word for me. When I lapse, I fall into silence and blank stares, remembering all the befores of my life, the bad and the good, before today, before the darkness, before the accident. Before. The life I once had.

Our review begins. I hope he skips the part about Jenna. It cost him a stitch on his forehead the last time. He took it surprisingly well, was almost pleased, in fact, saying it proved we were still our own persons. I doubt Kara will be so impulsive again. As she gains knowledge, she gains control. I'm always one step behind her, and that's not a safe place to be. I look at her now, as beautiful as ever, and I want to hold her and protect her. If I love her enough, maybe I can make up for everything else.