Page 24 of Say You're Mine

I want to laugh at that, a harsh, broken sound that would rip my throat to shreds. Improvement. As if the goal was ever to fix what they perceive as broken in me. No, this is about control, about breaking me down until there's nothing left but a hollow shell for my mother to puppeteer.

Dr. Faulkner looms over me, his face a mask of cold detachment. "You've brought this upon yourself, Juniper," he says, his voice as oily as his slicked-back hair. "If you had simply cooperated, if you had embraced the treatment, we could have avoided these unpleasant measures."

I bare my teeth in a feral grin, relishing the flicker of unease that darts across his smug face. "Fuck you," I rasp, my voice hoarse from screaming. "Fuck you and fuck your treatment. I'll never be what she wants me to be. I'll never stop fighting."

His eyes narrow, a vein pulsing in his temple. "We'll see about that," he hisses, nodding to the orderly manning the ECT machine. "Let's begin, shall we?"

The whine of the machine powering up fills the room, a high-pitched drone that sets my teeth on edge. I clench my jaw, bracing for the pain I know is coming. But beneath the fear, beneath the dread, there's something else. A kernel of warmth, of light, that even the darkest shadows can't touch.

Cara. The memory of her face, luminous with joy and love as I held her in my arms, as I felt the swell of our child beneath my palm, is a talisman against the darkness. They can tear me to pieces, can fry my brain with their machines and their drugs, but they can't take that from me. They can't erase the truth of what we have, of the unbreakable bond that ties us together.

The electrodes press against my temples, cold and unyielding. I close my eyes, conjuring the memory of Cara's smile, the melody of her laugh, the honeyed warmth of her skin against mine. I hold onto that feeling, that glorious, shining moment of connection, as the current rips through me, as my body convulses and my mind splinters into a thousand jagged shards.

I surface from the haze of pain to the sound of voices, distant and muffled like I'm underwater.

"...showing resistance to the treatment..."

"...increase the voltage, up the dosage of the sedatives..."

"...if this continues, we may have to consider more drastic measures..."

I force my eyes open, blinking away the spots that dance across my vision. Dr. Faulkner is huddled with a group of white-coated figures, their heads bent together in conspiratorial whispers.

"Ah, Juniper. Back with us, I see." Dr. Faulkner's voice is a snake sliding through the grass, poised to strike. "I must say, your resilience is quite remarkable. Lesser men would have crumbled by now."

"I'm not lesser men," I rasp, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth.

"Indeed." He smiles, a thin, reptilian thing. "But even the strongest will can be broken, given the right pressure. And believe me, Juniper, we've only just begun to apply pressure."

He nods to one of the other doctors, a severe-looking woman with a tight bun and glasses perched on her beak-like nose. She steps forward, a syringe glinting in her hand.

"This is a new formula," Dr. Faulkner says, his eyes glittering with a sick sort of excitement. "A cutting-edge blend of psychotropics and neuroinhibitors. It targets the centers of the brain responsible for willpower, for self-determination. In layman's terms, it makes you...suggestible."

Ice slides down my spine, a sick dread knotting in my gut. "You can't... that's illegal. It's a violation of every human rights law on the books."

He chuckles, a dry, mirthless sound. "Oh, Juniper. Still so naive. Laws are for the little people, for those without the power and influence to shape reality to their will. And your mother? She has more power than you can possibly imagine."

The doctor with the syringe steps closer, her shoes squeaking against the linoleum. I thrash against the restraints, panic clawing at my throat as I watch the needle descend towards the crook of my elbow.

"No," I whisper, hating the broken note in my voice. "You asshole! Don't do this."

But it's too late.

The needle pierces my skin, the plunger depresses, and I feel the icy rush of the drug entering my bloodstream. For a moment, there's nothing, just the thundering of my heart and the rasp of my breath.

And then...

The world stretches, warping as colors bleed like melting ice cream. My limbs feel heavy, disconnected, like I'm floating outside my body. And in the distance, getting closer with every passing second, I hear it.

My mother's voice.

"Juniper, darling." She sounds like she did when I was a child, all honeyed concern and poisoned affection. "It's time to stop fighting. It's time to come home."

I try to shake my head, to scream my defiance, but my body won't obey. It's like I'm trapped in a nightmare, paralyzed and helpless as the monster bears down.

"This is for your own good," she croons, her face swimming into view above me. But it's wrong, distorted, her eyes black pits and her smile a gash of blood. "We only want what's best for you. And that girl, that gutter rat you've latched onto? She's not good for you, darling. She's not one of us."

"Cara," I manage to choke out, clinging to her name like a lifeline. "Love...her..."

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