part one: fracture
I used to dream that I could reach the stars. I would close my eyes and fly away to a galaxy full of planets brimming with extraterrestrial life. Now, I not only know such a place exists. I live in it.
My name is Leanne. At least, it used to be, before I met the Yeerks. In a way, they saved my life. But they killed my soul.
Not that I was headed down the road to eternal bliss. That is a road that few find, and good luck to them, I say. They're going to need it.
To the rest of us, well, what can I say? Just hope the word "Yeerk" never enters your vocabulary.
I tried to kill myself. That's how it all started. Ironic, since that's how it should have ended. Maybe it will yet.
Anyway, I was sent to the Institution to play the shrinks' games till I would cooperate and be happy. Let me tell you, after my suicide attempt went awry, I was not in the mood to cooperate. But I knew when to quit. See, acting suicidal in a mental institution is not the best way to gain an opportunity to end it all. So I sat back and waited.
You think I'm crazy? Well, I'm the sane one here. At least, I was the only sane one at the Institution, shrinks included.
After about my first week in the madhouse, one of the patients got hold of a knife. How? Ask him. Anyway, he had it, and hid it in his bathing suit when all the patients not on suicide alert went swimming during rec hour. (By that time I had convinced the shrinks I was safe.) Once in the pool, the guy pulled the knife on someone he'd had a disagreement with the day before. He stabbed the poor man several times, turning the water a grisly crimson.
Blood. I hate it. And I love it. I hate it when it's someone else's blood. But I love it when it's my own. My pulse quickened with a thought: I had to have the knife. I had to bleed. So I ignored the shrinks calling everyone to get out of the pool. I dived and kicked myself underwater, into the red.
At first I could see nothing but a bloody fog, but the cloud parted at places to give me a better view of the crime. It was then that I saw the slug.
Yeerk scum!
Had I known then what I know now, I would have fled. Despite my misgivings about life, free will is very important to me.
I watched the slug swim for a while, forgetting the blood in my curiosity. When it came near me, I moved to swim away, but the thing was too quick for me. Before I knew it, it had found its way into my ear canal, forcing its way past my eardrum.
A funny thing happened then. I couldn't move. I couldn't even hold my breath anymore. My body reverted to its unconscious functions, meaning my lungs were soon filled with water, and I choked. In my daze I couldn't really tell when I blacked out. I just know that when I woke up a doctor was standing over me.
The thing in my head craved oatmeal. That was the one overpowering sensation as the slug moved my arms to pull out the IV and punch the doctor in the face, though with my weak body the blow didn't do much more than startle him. Soon I was in restraints.
Hello, Leanne, > came a voice from inside my head.
You must be that slug, > I sneered. Ha! Oatmeal-addict slug. >
Yeerk, actually. > The voice was hollow, fragile, like something was not quite right.
Not that a Yeerk in my head was all right.
How did you get into the pool? > I asked.
Robert was my old host. He was dying, so I had to find a new host. >
Me. >
Yes. > The Yeerk cackled.
It was then that I noticed my bed was moving.
"Where are you taking me?" the Yeerk asked for me. When it received no answer, it began to cry.
What do you think you're doing?! > I screamed. If you're going to be me, for heaven's sake, don't cry about it! >
Tears are something you feel strongly about, > the Yeerk managed. I am sorry . . . I cannot . . . >
"Sorry! Then why did you . . . ?" I made it halfway through my question before I realized I had spoken aloud.
The doctor looked at me strangely, then shook his head and ignored me as he pushed my bed into an elevator. All I could think was that I was in control again. But the Yeerk was still in my head. Or was it just in my head? Anyway, the whole thing was starting to scare me. I have been suicidal, but never delusional.
The Yeerk had said it was sorry. Was that why it had let me have control again? Or was it sorry because it couldn't keep control? Confused, I set that issue aside for the time being and focused on my sanity.
"Doctor, can nearly drowning cause someone to hallucinate?"
The question seemed to pique his interest. "So you're not only awake; you're in your right mind now. Yes, any near death experience can cause one to have strange dreams or to see a light at the end of a tunnel or what have you."
"So I don't really have a Yeerk in my head."
"A what?"
"A Yeerk. Some kind of parasitic alien slug that takes over your brain."
The elevator doors ahead opened as he answered. "No, you don't have a Yeerk in your head. Though I would like to ask what you were thinking when you attacked me."
I sighed. "Something just . . . came over me."
"Well, I'm sure that your psychiatrist will be quite interested to hear all about the experience." The doctor wheeled my bed into the elevator.
"You're taking me back to the Institution."
"Yes. We'll be taking the tunnel above Harper Street connecting the hospital to the Institution. I hope you're not afraid of heights."
"Don't worry; I'm not." As we came to the tunnel, my mind floated elsewhere, to fantasies of freedom, beauty, and accomplishment, stars so rare and far they seemed useless to strive towards. But something deep and hidden still believed that I could reach them. This hope, not the despair, made it impossible for me to live. Bitter, nostalgic tears stung at my eyes, but I tackled them fiercely, knowing I couldn't afford to even take a step in the direction of healing.
In my mind's eye, I saw me fall, smashing to bits against the unforgiving cement. Again and again I replayed the crash, taking a crude satisfaction at how quickly I had banished the softness from my heart.
Leanne. > The Yeerk's speech wavered.
Oh, no, > I thought.
Stronger this time, the Yeerk said, Oh, yes. >
I felt my control go as the Yeerk started subtly writhing my body under the bed's restraining straps.