Page 57 of Beautiful Prey

It took me a moment to think that it wasn’t so much the why but the who. My dad had clientele from many other companies that might seek something like this. He even mentioned working on projects for the military. But I refused to believe this was my father’s personal work.

Still, he worked on these children regardless if it was his plan or not. And that shattered everything I knew and loved about him.

It took me a solid hour to return to the files. Outside, I stared at the waves on the deck, taking a few hits from a joint Lena had given me back at her party. I rarely smoked but this seemed like a good time more than anything. I wanted to scream into the dark. Instead, I stood there, taking another drag into my lungs.

I tried to come to terms with what I knew about my family. It was too hard to stop now, though. And it was the thought of Emery that drew me back inside.

I sat in my chair and braced myself for the inevitable. I scrolled down the set of folders and found his name second to the bottom.

Emery.

My throat tightened as I clicked on his folder.

I drew over to the file named subject Twenty-two and clicked over it.

The picture that greeted me was not one I had seen before. In front of a white-washed backdrop, Emery stood, no mask hiding his face. He was older in this picture than the one I had. Between thirteen and fifteen. It was hard to say because of how tall and grown he was even for his age. He was leaner, much leaner. He might have looked weary and uncertain as a child, but here, he was a completely different person, the innocence stripped from him. His sunken face was death-like, his expression nearly indifferent, almost lazy. But his eyes were defiant, even hellbent. A look I recognized.

He was still painfully beautiful. Full lips, sharp jawline, piercing gaze. He didn’t have the scars around his mouth yet, but I did see one along his throat and across his jaw. If I dared to imagine what his life would have been like if he was given everything he dreamed, a life of love and promise, I could see a boy who would have been the heartthrob of his school. An honor student, an idol. Girls would have flocked to him, guys would have been jealous of him, if they weren’t vying to be his best friend. I imagined his smile could have lit up a room, if he was ever given a chance. Staring at him now, if I had known him in this way, I would have gladly given my heart to him in a second.

My heart broke for him instead.

Born only a few years before me, he was taken out of care from his foster family and brought to the Martel company. He was hidden in the warehouse for eight years before my father and the others gave him up. Two years later, Emery massacred them.

I searched his other files and found the records of his foster care. My dad had signed the paperwork to have Emery given over, becoming the Martel company’s property. How much money they must have bribed that foster care place, I couldn’t fathom. But I was disgusted either way, wondering how many other innocent lives had been taken all for a price.

Pulling up the videos, I clicked on the first one. The room I had seen Jordan in popped up, only this time, it was a young Emery sitting at the table, his head bent, eyes looking at the ground.

“Subject Twenty-two, Emery,” said a voice. Dad. “Fifth day of dosage on RDX051. Subject has slight dizziness and nausea, but his strength has improved drastically. No violent tantrums as of yet. This is the fastest improvement we have seen. We will now run the first test.” The video changed, and now, Emery was in the classroom with some sort of pulley machine. They kept putting on more and more weight to one end and Emery pulled the lever down each time with ease, pulling the hundreds of pounds of weight up. Each time he succeeded, a woman, some kind of nurse, came into view and gave him something which he quickly ate.

I moved on to the next video. This time, it was of the camera passing by the doors of each room, and in the background, Emery was screaming. The camera panned to a door on one end. There were two deadbolts and yet the door was starting to bend from Emery’s furious kicks. “Subject has gone into a fit,” my father said monotonously as if the scene had little effect on him. “Will need to be sedated for some time.”

Horrified, I closed the video and moved on to the next. Another feed of Emery inside the interview room, his head bent nearly to his chest, his hair hiding his face.

“It’s been a few weeks now, and Subject Twenty-two is more alert, and grown more cunning. Almost escaped his room along with Subject Twenty-one,” Dad said. “His strength has plateaued. May now need to up his dosage of RDX051. More tests coming soon.” The feed returned again to the classroom where Emery worked diligently and quickly on some kind of 3D puzzle. He finished the puzzle, and my father stopped his watch. “Record time,” he said. “Good work, Emery.”

Emery didn’t look up at the camera, only flexed his hands as if he wanted to use them in some other way than just solving a puzzle.

The next video was the hardest to watch. They had him shirtless on the exam table and Dad had one of his machines hooked up next to Emery, with little sensors across his head. He was clearly trying not to cry as Dad put a knife to his forearm and dug it in. Emery screamed and wrenched away, trying to escape his binds, his body shaking. “Subject’s pain tolerance seems to still be at a normal level, the nerves still registering the injury. But his adrenaline has spiked to a higher level than before. It’s a start. Will up the dosage and see how he fairs.” The video cut out and Emery was still on the table, but some time had passed because now he was being held down by others while he seized in front of the camera, his fingers bleeding, one of the nails split where someone had wedged a surgical knife underneath it.

“What the fuck,” I whispered aloud, then covered my mouth.

I didn’t want to go to the next, but it was the last. In a classroom, Emery was sitting at a desk next to, I assumed, his sister. My gut twisted as she looked even worse than him. So tiny I could see her veins in her arm. Her unkempt hair covered her face. She drew something while Emery sat there quietly, his paper blank, his hands fisted.

A few minutes later, Dad spoke. “Emery, did you hear me? I won’t tolerate this behavior. You stole from me. I saw the lighter in your room.” Dad paused. “Are you going to apologize?”

Emery didn’t move at first. Then I saw his gaze flick up to my father and I knew then he was going to kill him. He had decided then and there he would when he got the chance. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. But his eyes said something else. In fact, he seemed a shadow of himself. Something dark and much more sinister now glared back.

Dad didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I also saw the magazine you stuffed into the vent,” he said after a while. “Were you planning something there, Emery?”

Emery didn’t say a word, only smirking subtly.

“Is something funny?” Dad said. “Do you think creating a fire and suffocating us is funny?”

Emery laughed quietly. “Yes.”

Dad sighed, and the video cut from the classroom to my father watching Emery through the glass of the interview room. “Subject is showing dangerous, psychotic symptoms and could be a clear threat to us all. We’ve seen these ill effects before. It’s disappointing. Still, he’s one of our more successful subjects by far. But the effects cannot be ignored. We will need to monitor him closely from now on. If we can’t balance this out, he will have to be marked a failure.”

The video ended. I closed it, stunned into silence. How could I blame Emery for what he had done now?

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