Disclaimer: See Part One
Part 9 Revelations
As Marianne's eyes flittered open, a cold room of steel greeted her. She was shackled against one of the very walls, her arms hanging uselessly above her head. She struggled to look down, wondering if she was naked. She was so very cold. She could barely turn her head, wincing in pain as she attempted to take in her surroundings. The machines that kept her company were humming along, lights blinking and hundreds of wires leading from them, all connected to her body. They covered her arms and legs and her stomach, they were strapped to her head, shading her face like strands of hair.
She wondered if she was dreaming.
She couldn't tell just what they were doing to her. Were they sucking the life out of her or simply keeping her alive? She had never seen this room before, she had never known it's existence. She struggled to remember the events of what had brought her here in the first place. Was her brother that important to them, to warrant this?
Whatever she had done, she must have been a very.very bad girl.
The clicking of heels of was what she heard first. Finally the figure came close, eyes crinkled and a smile as wide the Cheshire cat's. Brigette, her dead stepmother, was standing not a foot away.
She had to be dreaming.
"That's a very nice look on you love." Brigette cooed in a thick English accent, as she stroked Marianne's hair.
Marianne turned away in disbelief. She thrashed against her shackles, unsettled and in growing panic. Her mind began to cloud over, fighting her reasoning at every turn.
This is it, Marianne thought. I have gone crazy.
"Oh, no what a nasty spill you took, love." Brigette observed as the back of her hand brushed the bruise on Marianne's cheek.
Brigette's touch felt alien against Marianne's skin. Marianne thrashed again, attempting to speak but only able to utter a soft moan.
"What's wrong love? Cat got your tongue?" Brigette laughed, as she carefully unwrapped a cherry lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. She began to back away, before turning around and leaving the room, humming.
Marianne did not have enough time to register what had happened. The blackness had risen yet again. She slipped back into the void. ************************
Jarod had never meant to torture Marianne with her past. In search for his, he kept stumbling into hers, family secrets, lies and everything else in between. He felt obligated to push her, challenge her to question, because she had no idea just how much blood she had on her hands. Within in the very first year of escaping from the centre, he had convinced himself that he had never loved her, that in fact, he hated her.
But she bewitched him.
They were cut from the very same cloth, Marianne and him. Both enslaved by the centre, but in different ways, ultimately, they felt each other's pain. She knew everything about him and he knew everything about her. It made him wonder whether he could go through the rest of his life without ever stumbling into her again. That didn't seem possible now. The binds that tied them together had grown, more inclusive with passing time.
The thought of losing her was more then he could bear. It was his ultimate failure, leaving her there, at the mercy of the centre. He was alone in this world, forever scarred by his experiences, different from everybody else. But he was lonelier still, without her. He needed her, because she was the only one who understood him.
Had his feelings never been engineered, he would have loved her still, for that simple fact.
The rest of the family was trying hard to make the youngest one in the household very comfortable. He had yet to speak.and was very shy amongst the majority. He had warmed up however to Margaret, who had taken him clothes shopping and had come back with the car loaded to the top with packages much to Charles' dismay. But Margaret could not be denied. Having lost her own children so early, she reveled in an opportunity to care for another. Whatever progress Margaret had made, it wasn't enough to tempt the child to speak.
Jarod had been so reclusive for the past few days and the boy being so timid, Margaret almost dropped a pitcher of orange juice in shock as she watched her son walk into the kitchen one morning carrying the child in his arms.
They looked picture perfect, Jarod and the little boy. Jarod was laughing, trying to keep the child from sticking his fingers in his mouth.
"Do you know how much I've longed to see you that way?" Margaret said, tears forming in her eyes.
Jarod paused and didn't know what to say. This wasn't his child.
Just what in the hell did she mean?
Feeling uncomfortable, Jarod set the child down. The child ran off running into the living room, blowing raspberries, unaware. Ignoring his mother's gaze, he sat at the kitchen table and started to eat, he was hungry, so hungry that when he started shoveling food in his mouth, he had failed to realize that Sydney was sitting across from him, observing him as always. He paused and looked at him, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry Jarod." Sydney said, as he grasped Jarod's hand, giving him a sympathetic look.
Jarod moved his hand away and averted his gaze. He began to smile then decided against it. It was useless to hide from the very man who had created him.
"Tell me the truth. Tell me what you're thinking, Jarod." Sydney said quietly.
"The truth is that I can't live with myself knowing that she's back there, suffering god knows what."
"She's valuable, Jarod." Sydney observed, placing his chin in one hand.
"She has something that they want."
"Why is everyone so unconcerned? This is the centre we're talking about!!!" Jarod tossed his fork on the plate in frustration.
"You think I don't know that?" Sydney hissed, moving forward in his chair.
"I couldn't help her mother. And I couldn't help her. You think I'm sleeping at night?"
************************************** Marianne opened her eyes. She was in a different room now and she was no longer shackled to a wall. The wires had disappeared. She was sitting in a chair and .damn. Shackled to the chair. She wasn't alone again. She lifted her head and her gaze met her brother's.
His blue eyes looked so very cold, and so much like her very own.
Lyle had managed to come back from the dead yet again. How appropriate.
"Well so much for rotting here in peace." Marianne said, suddenly aware that she could finally speak.
"Does anyone die in this place anymore?" She continued in an exasperated tone.
Lyle laughed. "Still have the sense of humor. Pity. No means for reeducating that."
"What do you want?" Marianne snapped, feeling the familiar and satisfying feeling of anger rising once more in her throat.
Lyle ignored her question. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Spare me the explanation, you put me here, you twit."
"For someone who's twisted my thumb for the truth, I'd have to say I'm rather disappointed." Lyle quipped with a smile.
"What does it matter that I should know now?" Marianne replied angrily. She struggled against her shackles knowing full well that they weren't going to give.
"You know there's a difference between you and me."
Marianne glared. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You were wanted. I was just a spare." Lyle countered.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, so now I have your attention." Lyle smiled and leaned forward close towards his sister.
Marianne could not keep the bile from rising to her throat, shivering slightly as she struggled against her handcuffs once more.
"I maybe shackled here at your mercy, but please.some personal space."
Lyle's smiled grew wider as he drew even closer towards Marianne, who had leaned back into her chair as far she could.
"I don't want you, my dearest sister, to miss a word."
Great, Marianne thought inwardly. Not only am I trapped; I have brother dearest here, violating my space.
"Do you know who you were meant for Marianne? Created for? Do you really want to know?"
"Do I have a choice?" Marianne spat out, trying her best to keep composed. She didn't like where this was heading.
"Our parents loved their darling baby girl. She was special. You have no idea how special you are, Marianne."
Marianne gritted her teeth. She had always disliked her name. But what she disliked most was when people she disliked used her name.
She managed the nastiest smile she could. "How special?" She demanded, her every word dripping with sarcasm.
" You're the means for starting the next human race, Marianne. And a superior one, no less. According to those scrolls, the ones that you had so thoughtfully conjured up for us last winter, you're going to be mother of the next evolution."
Marianne was in disbelief, she chuckled a little as she cocked head to the side.
"Did Ethan knock a screw out when he wiped the floor with your sorry ass? You, out of all people should know that I am not the mommy kind."
Lyle rolled his eyes. And I was the spare, he thought to himself.
"You're one of the eight children, Marianne. You have the inner sense. Don't tell me that you don't already know who's destined to make a mother out of you."
The sick feeling that started at the pit of her stomach suddenly overcame Marianne, the blood drained out of her face as her jaw fell open.
"Yes, Marianne." Lyle declared, beaming. "Jarod. The very one you've been pursuing all these years."
"You lie." Marianne countered slowly, her expression hard and cruel, quickly recovering from shock.
Lyle snickered. He crossed his arms and cocked his head.
"I have no reason to lie to you, dearest sister."
"Well that will never happen now will it?" Marianne snapped.
"I'm here and Jarod's out there. If I couldn't have caught him, much less could you."
"Too late." Lyle said, raising an eyebrow. "It already has."
Marianne rocked forward and sank her head. She couldn't reply. She had no means to convey what she felt at that very moment.
"You would never willingly carry Jarod's child." Lyle paused and grinned. "Much less anyone else's."
He liked his sister better when she was quiet. She looked even prettier too, with that blonde hair of hers.
"That child? The one you think is our little half-brother? It's really yours, made up with the necessary elements, extracted from both you and Jarod and implanted into Brigette."
For the first time, Marianne did not have an insult to hurl at her brother or even a smart response. What was last of what she knew to be true was shattered. She had nothing left and yet everything to live for. She had a son.
"Our mother's duty was Mirage. You were created for that very same fate."
Lyle said calmly, as he stood over her.
Marianne's cheeks were streamed with tears, yet her expression remained hardened.
"What's your part Lyle?" She began coldly.
"What's your part now, in this twisted little puzzle that we're in?"
Lyle's eyes seemed to soften as he held his sister's gaze. He seemed almost sympathetic, even compassionate. His expression remained serene even as he withdrew a small syringe from his coat pocket.
"My part now sis, is to make sure that your destiny is fulfilled."
*****************************
Part 9 Revelations
As Marianne's eyes flittered open, a cold room of steel greeted her. She was shackled against one of the very walls, her arms hanging uselessly above her head. She struggled to look down, wondering if she was naked. She was so very cold. She could barely turn her head, wincing in pain as she attempted to take in her surroundings. The machines that kept her company were humming along, lights blinking and hundreds of wires leading from them, all connected to her body. They covered her arms and legs and her stomach, they were strapped to her head, shading her face like strands of hair.
She wondered if she was dreaming.
She couldn't tell just what they were doing to her. Were they sucking the life out of her or simply keeping her alive? She had never seen this room before, she had never known it's existence. She struggled to remember the events of what had brought her here in the first place. Was her brother that important to them, to warrant this?
Whatever she had done, she must have been a very.very bad girl.
The clicking of heels of was what she heard first. Finally the figure came close, eyes crinkled and a smile as wide the Cheshire cat's. Brigette, her dead stepmother, was standing not a foot away.
She had to be dreaming.
"That's a very nice look on you love." Brigette cooed in a thick English accent, as she stroked Marianne's hair.
Marianne turned away in disbelief. She thrashed against her shackles, unsettled and in growing panic. Her mind began to cloud over, fighting her reasoning at every turn.
This is it, Marianne thought. I have gone crazy.
"Oh, no what a nasty spill you took, love." Brigette observed as the back of her hand brushed the bruise on Marianne's cheek.
Brigette's touch felt alien against Marianne's skin. Marianne thrashed again, attempting to speak but only able to utter a soft moan.
"What's wrong love? Cat got your tongue?" Brigette laughed, as she carefully unwrapped a cherry lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. She began to back away, before turning around and leaving the room, humming.
Marianne did not have enough time to register what had happened. The blackness had risen yet again. She slipped back into the void. ************************
Jarod had never meant to torture Marianne with her past. In search for his, he kept stumbling into hers, family secrets, lies and everything else in between. He felt obligated to push her, challenge her to question, because she had no idea just how much blood she had on her hands. Within in the very first year of escaping from the centre, he had convinced himself that he had never loved her, that in fact, he hated her.
But she bewitched him.
They were cut from the very same cloth, Marianne and him. Both enslaved by the centre, but in different ways, ultimately, they felt each other's pain. She knew everything about him and he knew everything about her. It made him wonder whether he could go through the rest of his life without ever stumbling into her again. That didn't seem possible now. The binds that tied them together had grown, more inclusive with passing time.
The thought of losing her was more then he could bear. It was his ultimate failure, leaving her there, at the mercy of the centre. He was alone in this world, forever scarred by his experiences, different from everybody else. But he was lonelier still, without her. He needed her, because she was the only one who understood him.
Had his feelings never been engineered, he would have loved her still, for that simple fact.
The rest of the family was trying hard to make the youngest one in the household very comfortable. He had yet to speak.and was very shy amongst the majority. He had warmed up however to Margaret, who had taken him clothes shopping and had come back with the car loaded to the top with packages much to Charles' dismay. But Margaret could not be denied. Having lost her own children so early, she reveled in an opportunity to care for another. Whatever progress Margaret had made, it wasn't enough to tempt the child to speak.
Jarod had been so reclusive for the past few days and the boy being so timid, Margaret almost dropped a pitcher of orange juice in shock as she watched her son walk into the kitchen one morning carrying the child in his arms.
They looked picture perfect, Jarod and the little boy. Jarod was laughing, trying to keep the child from sticking his fingers in his mouth.
"Do you know how much I've longed to see you that way?" Margaret said, tears forming in her eyes.
Jarod paused and didn't know what to say. This wasn't his child.
Just what in the hell did she mean?
Feeling uncomfortable, Jarod set the child down. The child ran off running into the living room, blowing raspberries, unaware. Ignoring his mother's gaze, he sat at the kitchen table and started to eat, he was hungry, so hungry that when he started shoveling food in his mouth, he had failed to realize that Sydney was sitting across from him, observing him as always. He paused and looked at him, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry Jarod." Sydney said, as he grasped Jarod's hand, giving him a sympathetic look.
Jarod moved his hand away and averted his gaze. He began to smile then decided against it. It was useless to hide from the very man who had created him.
"Tell me the truth. Tell me what you're thinking, Jarod." Sydney said quietly.
"The truth is that I can't live with myself knowing that she's back there, suffering god knows what."
"She's valuable, Jarod." Sydney observed, placing his chin in one hand.
"She has something that they want."
"Why is everyone so unconcerned? This is the centre we're talking about!!!" Jarod tossed his fork on the plate in frustration.
"You think I don't know that?" Sydney hissed, moving forward in his chair.
"I couldn't help her mother. And I couldn't help her. You think I'm sleeping at night?"
************************************** Marianne opened her eyes. She was in a different room now and she was no longer shackled to a wall. The wires had disappeared. She was sitting in a chair and .damn. Shackled to the chair. She wasn't alone again. She lifted her head and her gaze met her brother's.
His blue eyes looked so very cold, and so much like her very own.
Lyle had managed to come back from the dead yet again. How appropriate.
"Well so much for rotting here in peace." Marianne said, suddenly aware that she could finally speak.
"Does anyone die in this place anymore?" She continued in an exasperated tone.
Lyle laughed. "Still have the sense of humor. Pity. No means for reeducating that."
"What do you want?" Marianne snapped, feeling the familiar and satisfying feeling of anger rising once more in her throat.
Lyle ignored her question. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Spare me the explanation, you put me here, you twit."
"For someone who's twisted my thumb for the truth, I'd have to say I'm rather disappointed." Lyle quipped with a smile.
"What does it matter that I should know now?" Marianne replied angrily. She struggled against her shackles knowing full well that they weren't going to give.
"You know there's a difference between you and me."
Marianne glared. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You were wanted. I was just a spare." Lyle countered.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, so now I have your attention." Lyle smiled and leaned forward close towards his sister.
Marianne could not keep the bile from rising to her throat, shivering slightly as she struggled against her handcuffs once more.
"I maybe shackled here at your mercy, but please.some personal space."
Lyle's smiled grew wider as he drew even closer towards Marianne, who had leaned back into her chair as far she could.
"I don't want you, my dearest sister, to miss a word."
Great, Marianne thought inwardly. Not only am I trapped; I have brother dearest here, violating my space.
"Do you know who you were meant for Marianne? Created for? Do you really want to know?"
"Do I have a choice?" Marianne spat out, trying her best to keep composed. She didn't like where this was heading.
"Our parents loved their darling baby girl. She was special. You have no idea how special you are, Marianne."
Marianne gritted her teeth. She had always disliked her name. But what she disliked most was when people she disliked used her name.
She managed the nastiest smile she could. "How special?" She demanded, her every word dripping with sarcasm.
" You're the means for starting the next human race, Marianne. And a superior one, no less. According to those scrolls, the ones that you had so thoughtfully conjured up for us last winter, you're going to be mother of the next evolution."
Marianne was in disbelief, she chuckled a little as she cocked head to the side.
"Did Ethan knock a screw out when he wiped the floor with your sorry ass? You, out of all people should know that I am not the mommy kind."
Lyle rolled his eyes. And I was the spare, he thought to himself.
"You're one of the eight children, Marianne. You have the inner sense. Don't tell me that you don't already know who's destined to make a mother out of you."
The sick feeling that started at the pit of her stomach suddenly overcame Marianne, the blood drained out of her face as her jaw fell open.
"Yes, Marianne." Lyle declared, beaming. "Jarod. The very one you've been pursuing all these years."
"You lie." Marianne countered slowly, her expression hard and cruel, quickly recovering from shock.
Lyle snickered. He crossed his arms and cocked his head.
"I have no reason to lie to you, dearest sister."
"Well that will never happen now will it?" Marianne snapped.
"I'm here and Jarod's out there. If I couldn't have caught him, much less could you."
"Too late." Lyle said, raising an eyebrow. "It already has."
Marianne rocked forward and sank her head. She couldn't reply. She had no means to convey what she felt at that very moment.
"You would never willingly carry Jarod's child." Lyle paused and grinned. "Much less anyone else's."
He liked his sister better when she was quiet. She looked even prettier too, with that blonde hair of hers.
"That child? The one you think is our little half-brother? It's really yours, made up with the necessary elements, extracted from both you and Jarod and implanted into Brigette."
For the first time, Marianne did not have an insult to hurl at her brother or even a smart response. What was last of what she knew to be true was shattered. She had nothing left and yet everything to live for. She had a son.
"Our mother's duty was Mirage. You were created for that very same fate."
Lyle said calmly, as he stood over her.
Marianne's cheeks were streamed with tears, yet her expression remained hardened.
"What's your part Lyle?" She began coldly.
"What's your part now, in this twisted little puzzle that we're in?"
Lyle's eyes seemed to soften as he held his sister's gaze. He seemed almost sympathetic, even compassionate. His expression remained serene even as he withdrew a small syringe from his coat pocket.
"My part now sis, is to make sure that your destiny is fulfilled."
*****************************