Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I haven’t crashed. There has been no flood of memories. All I really have is what has been shown to me at that dinner tonight and a few glimpses. Which means the crash is coming, I just don’t know when.
Unless I take another pill, that is. And then I will just slip into some other version of me.
I try to imagine myself the last time this happened. This overwhelming feeling of being lost. But not only that, the loss of myself. It’s a lot to take in. So I can actually see a version of me that was more than willing to go along with this.
Might even have welcomed it.
Anything to not have to remember who she—I—really am.
All too soon, we reach the front doors of the library and Olsen holds one open for me. We both hesitate and he shoots me a smile. “See ya tomorrow, Nova.”
I rally, because we are in the middle of some super-secret escape plan. “Have a great night, Olsen. And thank you. You know, for bringing me home.”
And then I turn away and go inside. But I pause here to look at it.
To see it.
It’s not a copy of the Bobst Library at NYU.
It’s just a building with books.
A nice one, for sure, but not what I thought I saw on that first day.
First day?
That’s a laugh.
Seven years.
They’ve been fucking with my brain for seven years.
I take a deep breath, then walk to the elevator and get in.
And all they had to do was give me a fucking pill.
I saw the Bobst Library.
But it wasn’t real.
Was any of it real?
Part of me wants to go outside and check. To look at everything and compare it to what I thought it was.
But another part of me is looking forward to this confrontation with Patricia.
It was her idea to put me on the floor of that car yesterday. No one has to tell me this. I know it was her.
The elevator has reached the top floor and now it’s time to play my part.
Of course, the seventh-floor balcony that surrounds the perimeter of the lobby down below is lined with shelves and filled with books. But there is also a set of double doors recessed into these shelves, and a cursory glance tells me that these are the only doors on the whole floor.
So this must be the place.
I enter the shallow alcove and pull on the doors.
They are locked.
I sigh, so tired. All I really want to do is go home, and take these clothes off, and crawl into bed, and sleep.
Go home, Nova? You’re unbelievable.
But there is a beep, and a click, and the lock is released.
I step into a short hallway that opens up to a massive room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake and the small marina village on the opposite shore. There’s an amusement park over there. The Ferris wheel is lit up and rolling around, and around, and around. I have lived here for nearly a decade and I hadn’t realized there was an amusement park across the lake.
Hadn’t realized? Or was it erased? You do recall that you’ve been brainwashed in the very literal sense? If you fuck this up, Nova—
I tune the internal monologue out. It’s not like I have a choice. I’m pregnant. The drug is contraindicated.
You don’t even know what that word means. You’re just reciting things you’ve been told.
That’s not true. Of course I know what contraindications are.
Now you do.
Shut-up voice. You’re seriously fucking up my concentration. I need to remember what the book said. What I’m supposed to say to Patricia. Olsen and I are getting out of here tonight. We won’t be sleeping in our own beds. There is a boat waiting for me. We’re leaving. We’re starting over.
To fresh starts and new beginnings…
And just as I think that, I hear a helicopter. It’s loud. Like… landing right above my head loud.
I run my hands over my satin dress, trying to smooth out any wrinkles from my long journey home. Not that it helps. but I’m nervous.
I don’t know what to think about Patricia Mercer. She’s intimidating. And clearly powerful. A ding rings out at the far end of the room and when I look in that direction I realize there is an elevator that leads to the roof and this is a chime of arrival.
My heart skips as the doors open.
But it’s not Patricia who steps through.
It’s Mercer.
“Nova. Please have a seat.”
“No.” My objection to his order is louder than I intended. It’s almost a shriek. But that’s better than being meek. I can’t believe I let him talk me into this shit.
Mercer raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. I’m not sitting And I’m not staying, either. Where’s…” I almost say ‘your mother,’ but that woman is not his mother. She can’t be. So instead, I say, “Where’s Patricia?”