Freak - A Dark Medical Romance

I don’t trust the woman, and neither does Electra. Her suspicion is palpable, though she keeps her mouth shut, which is another way she’s showing immense personal growth. I’m so proud of her. I love her. Deeply. I haven’t told her that, but it is true.

“We have? What?” Electra takes the bait of the question.

“An evening out.”

“Out? You mean you’re going to let us go into the garden?”

“I mean you’re going to go out into the city,” the Head says. “And stay the night, if you like.”

“You’re lying,” Electra says bluntly.

We have spent twelve weeks under a microscope, forbidden from engaging in sexual congress aside from the times we did it anyway. We have been two insects inside a jar, and now the Head tells us to take the night off and head into the city? I’m not buying it either.

“I mean it. You can leave tomorrow night. There will be a gate pass issued so you are not set upon by… what did you call them, Doctor Ares? Thugs?”

Electra and I exchange looks. We know better than to accept anything from the Head. I haven’t been home in three months. I’ve been relying on Ken to water my plants, and I’m fairly certain they’re all dead by now.

“Thank you,” I say. “That’s a very generous offer. We look forward to it.”

“I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves. You’ve been working very hard. Relentlessly, some might say,” she says, turning to me and giving me a significant look, one that tells me trouble is brewing.

“Thank you, we have,” I agree blandly. “We will enjoy the evening. Which you have generously offered us.”

“What was that?” Electra is laughing at me as the Head leaves. She moves her arms and head in robotic motions. “I am thank you for your generous offer of human nourishment.”

I can’t help smiling. She’s developing a wicked sense of humor. She always had one, but absent any culture to reference, or people to talk to, it was limited. That’s why I’m so torn, why I haven’t gone mad in captivity. Because I am seeing Electra become the woman she was truly born to be, not the machine they shaped her into for all those years.

“I don’t think we should go,” Electra says.

“I think we should.” I want to say I think we should take the opportunity to leave and literally never return again, but I don’t want to put that notion in her head. “It’s an important step in your education.”

“Uh huh. It’s probably a trap. She’s fucked up. She doesn’t do nice things to be nice. She does nice things so she can do something worse later.”

“Maybe,” I agree. “But that’s… well, that’s sometimes what life is like. You have to take the nice things when they’re on offer, because the bad ones are coming regardless.”

“A doctor and a philosopher,” Electra smirks. “Fine, we’ll go to dinner.”

Big Wide World

Electra

I was afraid to go out, but Tom made it easy. The car we left the facility in had blacked out windows which kept me from seeing the terrifying world outside, and we were delivered to a door in a back alley which immediately put me at ease.

Inside the restaurant is a different matter. There are people here. Normal people. Civilians, not agents. I’m surprised at how different normal people look, how much more they range in size, appearance, and age. Walking into this place feels like walking into a zoo where all the inhabitants are people, including me. I’m glad Tom is here. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if he wasn’t. I’d probably have to kill someone just to feel like I was doing the right thing.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear, distracting me from picking out the person I’d stress-kill first.

“Thank you,” I say. “You look beautiful too.”

He does. Tom looks incredible in a suit. I’ve never seen him wear one before, and I like it. The clean lines of the charcoal gray jacket and pants emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his legs. All his manly attributes are accented by his clothing, much like the low-cut little black dress I am wearing makes the most of my hips and breasts. We are on display here, at this place where people eat, and I am not entirely sure if it is for ourselves, or the world at large.

A waiter in a dark suit leads us to a table, where we sit. Tom reaches for my hand, grounding me, connecting me to him. I don’t understand this world I’ve found myself in. It doesn’t feel right, or real. But he does.

“Electra,” he says, getting my attention. “I have to tell you something.”

“What? Is it bad? Are you leaving?”

“No,” he reassures me, cutting off the torrent of scared questions. “It’s good. I think it’s good. I don’t know how you’ll feel. I hope you feel the same.”