She dreaded the halls.
Actions froze in mid-movement. Tongues stilled. People stared. Pity pressed against her as she passed – suffocating sympathy tinged with a touch of wariness. And rebuke. Whispers ate at the edges of her consciousness.
"It's been three months."
"She's obsessed."
"Millions to build the particle accelerator."
"She never leaves the base."
"If Kinsey finds out, he'll shut us down."
"I hear she sleeps in his office."
She could live with those whispers. She could ignore them.
"He's probably dead."
She couldn't live with that whisper. She couldn't ignore that one.
Not when it came from her mind.
