Notes: Huge thanks to the readers and reviewers! You have no idea how awesome it is to get each of your responses and know you're not only reading the story but enjoying it enough to respond. I get a kick out of all your questions and comments. Just like my other story it will all make sense eventually! The mystery is part of the fun!

Thanks to JuneBug, MadMaddy, Guest, and Heatherw231for the last reviews!

I hope you continue to enjoy this story and it's characters! :)

Chapter Thirteen

The moment I wake I know something is wrong. It's not instinct, or six-sense or anything I've read about or heard mentioned before, nothing like that, it's the pain. I lay very still hiding behind tightly closed eyes trying to catalog each new ache wondering intently how I got each one in turn. My mind is a fuzzy blur; I do not even remember falling asleep…

The dull throbbing in my belly is the memory that returns to me first; the answer behind its presence only increasing the sharp pain centered deep in my chest—the painful hitch of each breath. I won't cry, what would be the point? I lied and now they know. Bryn will probably never look at me again.

And then I open my eyes to find Libby not six inches from my nose staring at me with wide worry-filled eyes.

"Charlie?" Her voice is uncharacteristically small. It wavers half-way out her throat like maybe her own body thought it better to remain silent half into the noise.

"Libby," I greet her my voice feels thick, and my throat hurts…maybe I have already been crying, that would explain the pounding ache in my head but not the painful throb of my lower lip or my left shoulder; or right leg or hell half my body really. I swallow and that hurts too.

"When did you get here?" I ask her looking past her pale face for the first time to notice that I am in my own room and not Bryn's...Maybe it was all a dream? A terrible horrible dream that never happened…God how I want that to be true. But I know it isn't, the ache under my skin is too real to have imagined it. This is no phantom memory of pain…waking to such terrible pain has happened to me before, it used to happen a lot, nearly every time I woke for what felt like half my life there would always be pain. Different places, different types, if pain is truly weakness leaving one's body as Griss has always said then I must be very weak. And my weakness it seems can never decide what form it prefers to take.

I have always assumed that it was from the tests they were always trying to run; that the effects must linger or intensify or perhaps they were running new tests in my sleep…sometimes I even woke with limbs encased in hard plaster and once or twice I woke restrained to find my skin rent with a jagged puckered line of stitches the skin around them swollen pink or faintly red. Other times I woke with faint white lines like scars I couldn't remember getting let alone healing…

In section six that was just my life. I had long ago stopped questioning it; it never won me any answers anyway. But I have not woken in such pain since I arrived here, and that troubles me. I should not be in this much pain…unless…

I stare at Libby's pale face and deep brown eyes, so dark they're almost black near the rim. "What did you do to me?" I ask, fearing the answer already. My eyes dart around the room looking for Griss or Dr. Patrice or one of the soldiers, but we are alone, just the three of us. Bryn is not here I note, and his absence intensifies the ache over my heart.

"You don't remember?" She leans closer and behind her back someone makes an unhappy noise, Ethan I realize glancing past her, his face tight with concern, heavy lines of worry etched around his eyes and mouth. He pales when my gaze lands on him, a reaction I certainly did not expect.

"Ethan?" I try to sit up and find that I can't, and not just because of the pain. I stare in startled bewilderment at my wrists which I failed to notice until this moment with my previous stillness are bound with some kind of thin black plastic rope.

I stare at Libby again my heart hammering in my chest. "Why am I tied up?" I can feel the panic starting somewhere behind my ribs, my breathing coming faster, my pulse too quick.

"You don't remember?" She repeats, stares at me; something in her expression I can't name.

I shake my head. All I remember is a storm, and the dead wandering the yard…getting onto the porch, climbing into Bryn's bed, and then… I turn my head away from Libby's face. "I understand." I tell her, feeling the lead weight of my future press against my chest, squeezing my next inhale into a painful wheeze.

"You do?" She is still staring at me. I can feel it though I do not turn my head. I wish she would look away, her gaze only makes this harder. I have lied to her too.

"Yes," I tell the ceiling. How could I not? I lied to them. "I did not tell you the truth." I admit. I was not supposed to lie and yet I did it anyway. In section six the punishment for telling lies if I was caught was…severe. I lied to Bryn, and to Ethan and Libby hoping that I could stay here. But now they know the truth, and they are obviously going to take me back. I should have known it from the moment I opened my eyes, before that even if I had been paying attention at all to anything except the awful pain I was in.

For the first time ever Libby smells like fear. Ethan too, stronger than her.

When the door to my room—or what was my room, opens up I do not have to turn my face to know who it is. Bryn. I wish I could melt into the bed, drop right through the floor and just disappear. I cringe and turn my face farther away. Try to ignore the single hot tear tracking down the side of my downturned cheek where at least they cannot see. If Griss is coming to get me, it will be bad enough when he learns I have lied. I will not greet him with tears to make it worse.

Libby still hasn't moved, kneeling beside the edge of the bed staring at me, what she's waiting for I don't know. Perhaps I am supposed to say I am sorry? My throat closes off just thinking the words.

The wooden boards squeak under someone's weight. I keep my gaze firmly fixed on the wall especially when I recognize the middle portion of Bryn's form from the corner of my eye. He is the last person I think I can handle seeing right now. My eyes burn against my will with the hot prick of tears I fight to keep back. He moves to the side of the bed opposite Libby without a word. If I were to shift my gaze on the wall he would be in my view but I do not, I don't want to…I can't. He sits near me making the mattress dip under his weight. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, repeat over and over to myself to just keep staring at the wall and not look at him.

Something shockingly cold is unexpectedly pressed to my lip. I jerk back from the sensation not expecting it, my eyes flying to his face. Then I cannot look away. I stare at him in utter shock, the cold instantly forgotten.

"What happened to your face?" I gasp in distress.

His lip is split and the lid under his left eye is tinted faintly blue, there's a scratch over his right cheek and a large smear of dirt or something darker trailing down the side of his neck and under the collar of his shirt…

He stares down at me expression carefully neutral. "You don't remember?" Is all he says.

Remember what? Why does everyone keep asking me that? I try to sit up again, and only end up hissing and flopping heavily right onto my back. "Does it always hurt this much?" I ask staring up at him, not that it matters I suppose since it will never happen again.

"Getting the shit kicked out of you? Generally yes." Ethan answers tone mildly amused from near the door.

I struggle with his meaning for a brief moment. "We were injured?" I ask. Bryn is still sitting awfully still beside me. He just nods to me. His lips forming a tight line the corners of his eyes creased slightly as he stares at me with some kind of concern or question I can't name so I turn my face away, stare up at the ceiling once more. That must be why I do not remember getting out of Bryn's bed, or coming up here. Or when they tied me up. "So this is not because of the sex?" I ask.

Beside me Libby chokes, sputters a half formed sound without words and then chokes again. I turn my head to stare at her not sure what is going on; her face is very red and her eyes narrow at Bryn while her mouth twitches and moves unable to decide it seems on one sound.

A word tugs at the edge of my mind. "Are you having a stroke?" I ask her genuinely concerned; I've never seen Libby look so…odd.

"Oh, Now you've got jokes?!" Libby says.

It wasn't a joke. I really was concerned but I don't get the chance to tell her because Bryn speaks a second later.

"She's fine Charlie, she's just plotting to murder me before I can get out of this room."

I stare at her but she's still glaring at Bryn on my other side. I raise my bound hands to grip her sleeve redrawing her attention to me. I am trying to understand. "Why would you want to kill Bryn?" I ask and her gaze falls to me her cheeks still spotted with bright splotches of high color.

"Because he's an idiot." She answers. I hesitate certain I am missing something once again. Libby doesn't go around killing people because of the state of their IQ…though she does threaten to end people's lives on a regular basis…and sometimes I think she really means it. The people she usually threatens seem to have done something…depraved I think is the word I heard her liberally use. That and a few others one of which sticks in my head the soldiers have never used it, for that reason I like it a lot.

"So you are going to murder Bryn…for being a…dickhead?"

Libby shows Bryn her teeth but it fails to be a friendly look. "See Bry she wants me to kill you too."

"I do not." I tell her quickly before turning back to look at Bryn, not meeting his eyes. "But I think maybe you should throw out that book," I rush to inform him certain that Griss will be here any moment to collect me. Maybe Dr. Patrice will be with him. I almost miss her at times…I can't be sure. We were not close, in any sense of the word. She was not like Libby; she would never be a friend. But she was an almost constant, which was sort of a comfort. The way Libby apparently would not be anymore.

"Book?" Bryn probes.

"Yes," I tell the ceiling unable to meet his gaze. "I read it, but it's not right. It lied to me. You should throw it out before someone else gets hurt."

"Charlie, you're not making any sense." Libby is leaning over me, her apparent anger at Bryn and desire to kill him temporarily soothed. Which is good, I don't want them to fight, soon I'll be gone and they can go back to the way they were.

"Don't be mad at Bryn," I tell her. "It's not his fault, it's mine. I lied." The last two words seem to stick in my throat. I swallow and close my eyes. "If you would just let me go before Griss gets here, I promise I'll run away and never bother you ever again." I didn't plan to add that last part, but somehow it slips out in a desperate plea.

"Griss?" Libby asks.

"Yes, I'm sorry I lied but it was only because I don't want to go back there…" I stare at her past the tears clinging to my lashes. "You don't know what it's like…" How can I explain so much in so little time? I'm not even sure I know the right words.

"Charlie, do you remember what happened in the woods?" Libby is staring at me very hard suddenly.

I search my mind for some recent memory of even being outside but I haven't been out much in days; not with the heat and the threat of the dog pack. I shake my head and her eyes dart to Bryn seated behind me on the bed. She looks back at me. "You…Charlie, you…changed."

"I do not understand."

Behind me Bryn snorts.

"Charlie you killed six Geeks in the woods, do you not remember that?" Libby is staring at me once more, eyes wide.

I shake my head firmly no. "I have never killed an other in my life." It was part of the reason Griss despised me so. It was hard to kill them when you could look inside their heads; peal back the layers of ravenous grey fog to what they were underneath—to who they had been once before.

"But you did Charlie," Libby tells me voice certain. "You tore into them with your bare hands…"

"No…" That isn't right, but why would they lie? I am only more confuse, not sure what to believe. I am not supposed to lie; but I have heard Libby talk of doing it often enough before all this…the very nature of their survival depends on their ability to deceive others at least in part. I stare at my bound hands, notice for the first time the nails are stained at the rims, something black like dirt caked under their normally short white edges. If I have not been outside how did my nails get like this? If they are lying too, what can I trust? And if they are telling the truth…then I am something worse than a liar.

I'm a monster. Something deep inside me cringes away from the words. No, it can't be true…

"I killed people?" My blood runs cold in my veins. It feels like in my chest my heart collapses in on itself, fails to work right. It falters painfully so, aching behind my ribs while tight knots twist in my gut and acid burns the back of my throat.

"Not people sweetie, just Geeks." Libby informs me, like that makes it better… "and one of them was trying to eat me so it's not that bad." I stare up at her in shock, she was almost eaten? How is that an improvement?

"Yeah, except when people usually off them they don't do it with their bare hands." Ethan adds. He is still standing by the door. But his posture has relaxed somewhat; his hand no longer hovering near his belt…next to his gun I belatedly realize.

I turn back to Libby. "Am I dangerous?" I must be. Why else would Ethan be ready to draw a gun? Suddenly the fear on the soldiers is starting to make sense, it wasn't me they were terrified of…it was the other me. Someone else has been living under my skin. What else have they done wearing my face? I feel unbelievably betrayed, outraged at my own body for keeping this from me. What am I? The question makes me start to shake.

Libby stares at me lifting a hand to brush hair off my face. "Nah, I think you're okay." And remarkably she no longer smells like fear. Her lips twist up on one side and she crosses her arms against the edge of the bed leaning heavily on them still kneeled on the floor. "I do think you need a serious bath though, you're kinda rank."

I stare at her frowning lightly. "I do not understand what a bath has to do with my position in the military institution. I'm not a soldier." I inform her. Of that much I'm certain. Griss made it clear on many occasions. In that respect I would always be an abysmal failure—his words.

"Yup, she's Charlie," Ethan says and then he sorta laughs; it sounds like relief. I start to ask, who else would I be? But I'm not sure I want to know the answer, especially if the other me is a killer.

"What are you doing?" I ask Libby instead when she grabs something from her side, her knife I realize. She brings it closer to my hands. "Taking this off," she answers still moving to do so, grabbing my hands and pulling them back to her when I pull them away not certain it's safe. "We should get you cleaned up. Something to eat, we can talk about this after."

"After Griss gets here?"

She blinks at me, something clicks in those dark eyes. "Charlie no one is coming to take you away, you're staying here."

I don't even realize I've hugged her until her arms wind around me too. She feels good against my skin, warm and safe and real. She soothes the ache in my chest. She is not afraid, she smells like clean sharp apples, faintly sweet and the spongy earthy flavored bread she makes…I close my eyes against her shoulder and bask in the safe scent.

"Now I need a bath too." She says.

I jerk back from her startled. "I'm sorry,"

"I'm kidding you weirdo, it's fine." I don't move to hug her again, sitting very still on the bed, not because of the pain this time. Ethan has turned his head away there's a red tint working its way up his neck. "What is it?" Libby asks.

"I just realized I am naked." And really, really filthy, it is not just my hands. I may have ruined this bed.

Libby snorts, she raises one of her brows sorta-grinning. "Does that bother you now?" She asks.

I pause. Glad I cannot see Bryn's face behind me. "No," I tell her, which is partially true. "But I am starting to think I am naked a lot more than anyone else" I add.

"I'd like to talk to Charlie alone."

I swallow, dread bubbling up into panic. It must show on my face because Libby shakes her head adamantly in front of me. "Nope, she's getting cleaned up first."

"Charlie, what book?" Bryn asks from behind my back ignoring Libby's look. I am not sure if that is what he wanted to speak to me about in private but my opinion on it remains the same. I look down at the sheets on my bed, then lean over to check the floor. Libby finds it first partially under the bed.

"This?" She asks holding it up.

"Yes," I tell her. "It's not true." Far from it, the hideous thing should be burned, I still hurt.

"It's fiction." Libby is staring at the title. It did not tell me much about the book either. It certainly had not implied anything about its content. "You don't like fiction?" Libby asks looking confused.

"Let me see that." Bryn's hand is suddenly in my field of vision. Libby hands him the book while I keep my eyes on the bed spread.

He takes a moment to inspect the cover, reading the title before flipping it open and scattering the pages with one hand, flipping through them as they slide quickly in front of his eyes escaping the edge of his thumb. He stops, flipping back a page or two. He is silent for a few moments before his lips turn down and he exhales in a rush.

"Cripes." He shuts it again lifts his chin to stare at the ceiling before dropping it again and dragging a hand over his face. He winces with the action as I watch him like he forgot he was in pain.

"Charlie go get cleaned up, we'll talk about this later." He tosses the book back down on the bed swiftly forcefully enough to make it bounce and tumble almost to the edge again. He stands up but then he hesitates, apparently warring with himself internally over something for a moment before turning back to me. I am not looking directly at him so I flinch a little when he leans close to me to whisper right against my ear like he did while we were in bed. His warm breath against my skin makes me shudder once again. I cross my arms quickly to cover my reaction turning my face away.

"It's not a lie Charlie. I fucked up. I'm sorry." It feels like his lips brush my skin but then he's gone again, clearing his throat and moving around the bottom of the bed to follow Ethan who fled right after I realized I was naked again.

"You okay?" Libby asks me.

"I do not know," I answer honestly. "I have never felt this way."

For some reason my lack of experience makes Libby grin. But I guess that is not all that strange, I seem to amuse her quite often with the gaps in my knowledge.

"Come on, you really do need a bath." Libby waits till I stand up and quickly strips the sheets while I wait. She tosses them down in a pile near the door claiming she'll grab them later, show me how to wash them. I'd like that very much. In section six my sheets were changed by someone else always while I was gone so I almost did not notice, but it happened consistently over a long time.

It's nice to think I will be here long enough to need to know how to wash my own sheets.

Libby goes with me to the bathroom. I'm not bothered by this, her presence like always is a comfort to have around.

"Here give me this. You've got dirt all caked in it." Libby is reaching for my neck, I hold still while she undoes the clasp around my throat turning towards the sink. "Shower," she says. "I got this."

I climb into the tub my right leg painful and not wanting to lift over the high rim. The hot water feels good mostly; except for a few places where it stings sharply touching my skin. I use the bar of fresh sharp soap to lather my hands, run the lather over the rest of my skin with my palms and fingers. I have to repeat the process several times until the blood is gone, and the dirt no longer darkens the water in the base of the tub sliding away down the drain. Libby is still working at the sink when I shut the water off and step out.

"You had it all ground into the chain," she says. I try not to think about what exactly was in there though it hardly seems to bother Libby at all. I find that incredibly comforting somehow too. At least Libby does not see me as a monster. It is also at the same time troubling because if I am a monster, she should probably stay away. It is odd to feel conflicted about so many things.

"I don't want to hurt you." I blurt out and she blinks up at me.

"Then you won't" she answers looking so certain. I do not think the world is as black and white as that, but I want so desperately to believe it myself so I only nod. I wrap myself in a towel and Libby waves me over closer to her. "Here let's get this back on you," she says.

The tiny charm and hair fine chain is cold against my heated skin, it must have been cold water she used to clean it, the cold chill seeping into the metal. I raise one hand leaning closer to the mirror for the first time trying to determine what it is since Bryn put it on me days ago.

"Do you know what it is?" Libby asks me mirroring my thoughts watching me pinch my fingers over the tiny silver lump I'd almost forgotten about. Its weight is so light I barely noticed it on my skin.

"No." I tell her.

"It's a guardian angel." She says pressing her hand to my shoulder. "Bryn said if anyone ever deserved someone to watch over them; it was you."

I don't know what to say to that so I simply nod. I hope there is someone watching over them too, especially now that I know more about me.