Read Online Betrothed Episode One by Odette C. Bell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Odette C. Bell
Tags: Science Fiction - Series, sci fi series, space opera series, sci fi action adventure series, space opera adventure sereis
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myself out of bed. My sweaty feet left wet footprints as I
padded over to the wall.
I ran a
hand over the point where the door had disappeared.
I
couldn’t see it.
It was
just a smooth white wall.
After
several more seconds of checking, running my fingers over every
centimeter of the wall I could reach, I stopped.
I stood
there frozen, driving my knuckles into the metal.
Then I
turned with a sharp breath and pressed my back into the
wall.
I
inhaled and held it in my chest, letting it out in a shaking
exhalation that buffeted my fringe and sent it darting over my
cheeks.
My eyes
were drawn towards the view. I stared at the white towers and the
white clouds darting between them.
I wanted
this to be a dream. I wanted to wake up to realize the past few
hellish days had been nothing but a nightmare.
I knew
that wouldn’t happen.
This was
real, and I wasn’t confused.
I knew I
was Annie Carter.
It just
seemed no one else did.
Chapter 8
The days
passed.
Whenever
Mark visited, I asked him about experiences we’d shared, trying to
catch him in a lie.
He was
too smooth.
It was
only when I asked him about my betrothal contract that I saw him
twitch.
He
stiffened, his left cheek contracting.
But then
he found some excuse to leave.
I’d
given him my betrothal contract, and I now realized that if I still
had it, it could be the proof I so desperately needed. With my
identity implant removed, it would be harder to prove who I was.
The Newfound Institute would still have a full atomic scan of me,
as would the Contracts Office. But getting out of this room was the
problem.
Unless I
could prove to the doctor I really was Annie Carter, he wasn’t
going to take me to the Contracts Office just to check.
Then
again, my doctors kept changing. I never saw that kindly looking
alien with the barrel chest again.
I was
fragile, an emotional wreck, and yet a part of me
wasn’t.
A part
of me was waiting and watching for an opportunity.
I didn’t
know what Mark was doing.
As crazy
as it sounded, I still wanted to trust the guy.
Maybe it
was Stockholm syndrome talking, or maybe his constant requests for
me to trust him were working.
He’d been my rock. Without him, I would have gone nuts years
ago.
Most days I sat on my bed doing nothing.
Mark had
provided me with a holo TV, but it only had entertainment
shows.
I
usually adored entertainment shows, but not right now.
I wanted
to see the news. I wanted to see the fake Anna Carter and hear
about the upcoming wedding.
When I
asked Mark about getting some news channels, he just laughed and
told me I hated the news.
Slowly
the pain behind my left eye returned. It seemed to flicker back on
whenever my fear mounted.
I told
one of the doctors about it, fearful it was another stroke in the
making. They took scans, but assured me it was fine.
Relax,
they kept telling me.
Soon I’d
remember who I really was.
They
kept repeating that phrase so much, it was the last thing I heard
when I fell asleep and the first thing I remembered upon
waking.
As the
days flashed by and the pain behind my left eye increased,
something strange happened.
I
started to get the compulsions again.
The ones
that told me what to do.
At one
point a doctor came in to run some kind of brain scan, but rather
than tell them about the piercing pain behind my left eye, I lied
and said I was fine.
Because
the compulsion told me to.
It
sounded like a crazy defense – and it was crazy, completely crazy –
but I couldn’t stop myself.
I had to
get out of here.
I had to
get to the Contracts Office and prove my identity.
So I
started to hatch a plan of escape.
I kept
going back to my window, checking its integrity with prying
fingers. Pretty soon I realized it wasn’t a window at all. It was a
goddamn hologram.
I wasn’t
in a room; I was in a cell.
My
determination to escape grew. Though I couldn’t be 100% sure it was
my determination; the compulsion was growing and growing. And
padded over to the wall.
I ran a
hand over the point where the door had disappeared.
I
couldn’t see it.
It was
just a smooth white wall.
After
several more seconds of checking, running my fingers over every
centimeter of the wall I could reach, I stopped.
I stood
there frozen, driving my knuckles into the metal.
Then I
turned with a sharp breath and pressed my back into the
wall.
I
inhaled and held it in my chest, letting it out in a shaking
exhalation that buffeted my fringe and sent it darting over my
cheeks.
My eyes
were drawn towards the view. I stared at the white towers and the
white clouds darting between them.
I wanted
this to be a dream. I wanted to wake up to realize the past few
hellish days had been nothing but a nightmare.
I knew
that wouldn’t happen.
This was
real, and I wasn’t confused.
I knew I
was Annie Carter.
It just
seemed no one else did.
Chapter 8
The days
passed.
Whenever
Mark visited, I asked him about experiences we’d shared, trying to
catch him in a lie.
He was
too smooth.
It was
only when I asked him about my betrothal contract that I saw him
twitch.
He
stiffened, his left cheek contracting.
But then
he found some excuse to leave.
I’d
given him my betrothal contract, and I now realized that if I still
had it, it could be the proof I so desperately needed. With my
identity implant removed, it would be harder to prove who I was.
The Newfound Institute would still have a full atomic scan of me,
as would the Contracts Office. But getting out of this room was the
problem.
Unless I
could prove to the doctor I really was Annie Carter, he wasn’t
going to take me to the Contracts Office just to check.
Then
again, my doctors kept changing. I never saw that kindly looking
alien with the barrel chest again.
I was
fragile, an emotional wreck, and yet a part of me
wasn’t.
A part
of me was waiting and watching for an opportunity.
I didn’t
know what Mark was doing.
As crazy
as it sounded, I still wanted to trust the guy.
Maybe it
was Stockholm syndrome talking, or maybe his constant requests for
me to trust him were working.
He’d been my rock. Without him, I would have gone nuts years
ago.
Most days I sat on my bed doing nothing.
Mark had
provided me with a holo TV, but it only had entertainment
shows.
I
usually adored entertainment shows, but not right now.
I wanted
to see the news. I wanted to see the fake Anna Carter and hear
about the upcoming wedding.
When I
asked Mark about getting some news channels, he just laughed and
told me I hated the news.
Slowly
the pain behind my left eye returned. It seemed to flicker back on
whenever my fear mounted.
I told
one of the doctors about it, fearful it was another stroke in the
making. They took scans, but assured me it was fine.
Relax,
they kept telling me.
Soon I’d
remember who I really was.
They
kept repeating that phrase so much, it was the last thing I heard
when I fell asleep and the first thing I remembered upon
waking.
As the
days flashed by and the pain behind my left eye increased,
something strange happened.
I
started to get the compulsions again.
The ones
that told me what to do.
At one
point a doctor came in to run some kind of brain scan, but rather
than tell them about the piercing pain behind my left eye, I lied
and said I was fine.
Because
the compulsion told me to.
It
sounded like a crazy defense – and it was crazy, completely crazy –
but I couldn’t stop myself.
I had to
get out of here.
I had to
get to the Contracts Office and prove my identity.
So I
started to hatch a plan of escape.
I kept
going back to my window, checking its integrity with prying
fingers. Pretty soon I realized it wasn’t a window at all. It was a
goddamn hologram.
I wasn’t
in a room; I was in a cell.
My
determination to escape grew. Though I couldn’t be 100% sure it was
my determination; the compulsion was growing and growing. And
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