Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

and finally found peace, sanctuary.
    I didn’t expect to see the bird again.
    But now it’s back and looks exactly the same. It’s the same white bird in the same blue sky with the same yellow crown. Only this time, it’s frozen. Flapping its wings in place like it’s been caught in an invisible cage, like it’s destined to repeat the same motion forever. The bird seems to be flying: it’s in the air; its wings work. It looks as if it’s free to soar through the skies. But it’s stuck.
    Unable to fly upward.
    Unable to fall.
    I’ve had the same dream every night for the past week, and all 7 mornings I’ve woken up shaking, shuddering into the earthy, icy air, struggling to steady the bleating in my chest.
    Struggling to understand what this means.
    I crawl out of bed and slip into the same suit I wear every day; the only article of clothing I own anymore. It’s the richest shade of purple, so plum it’s almost black. It has a slight sheen, a bit of a shimmer in the light. It’s one piece from neck to wrists to ankles and it’s skintight without being tight at all.
    I move like a gymnast in this outfit.
    I have springy leather ankle boots that mold to the shape of my feet and render me soundless as I pad across the floor. I have black leather gloves that prevent me from touching something I’m not supposed to. Sonya and Sara lent me one of their hair ties and for the first time in years I’ve been able to pull my hair out of my face. I wear it in a high ponytail and I’ve learned to zip myself up without help from anyone. This suit makes me feel extraordinary. It makes me feel invincible.
    It was a gift from Castle.
    He had it custom-made for me before I arrived at Omega Point. He thought I might like to finally have an outfit that would protect me from myself and others while simultaneously offering me the option of hurting others. If I wanted to. Or needed to. The suit is made of some kind of special material that’s supposed to keep me cool in the heat and keep me warm in the cold. So far it’s been perfect.
    So far so far so far
    I head to breakfast by myself.
    Sonya and Sara are always gone by the time I’m awake. Their work in the medical wing is never-ending—not only are they able to heal the wounded but they also spend their days trying to create antidotes and ointments. The one time we ever had a conversation, Sonya explained to me how some Energies can be depleted if we exert ourselves too much—how we can exhaust our bodies enough that they’ll just break down. The girls say that they want to be able to create medicines to use in the case of multiple injuries they can’t heal all at once. They are, after all, only 2 people. And war seems imminent.
    Heads still spin in my direction when I walk into the dining hall.
    I am a spectacle, an anomaly even among the anomalies. I should be used to it by now, after all these years. I should be tougher, jaded, indifferent to the opinions of others.
    I should be a lot of things.
    I clear my eyes and keep my hands to my sides and pretend I’m unable to make eye contact with anything but that spot, that little mark on the wall 50 feet from where I’m standing.
    I pretend I’m just a number.
    No emotions on my face. Lips perfectly still. Back straight, hands unclenched. I am a robot, a ghost slipping through the crowds.
    6 steps forward. 15 tables to pass. 42 43 44 seconds and counting.
    I am scared
    I am scared
    I am scared
    I am strong.
    Food is served at only 3 times throughout the day: breakfast from 7:00 to 8:00 a.m., lunch from 12:00 to 1:00 p.m., and dinner from 5:00 to 7:00 p.m. Dinner is an hour longer because it’s at the end of the day; it’s like our reward for working hard. But mealtimes aren’t a fancy, luxurious event—the experience is very different from dining with Warner. Here we just stand in a long line, pick up our prefilled bowls, and head toward the eating area—which is nothing more than a series of rectangular tables arranged in parallel lines across the room. Nothing superfluous so nothing is wasted.
    I spot Adam standing in line and head in his direction.
    68 69 70 seconds and counting.
    “Hey, gorgeous.” Something lumpy hits me in the back. Falls to the floor. I turn around, my face flexing the 43 muscles required to frown before I see him.
    Kenji.
    Big, easy smile. Eyes the color of onyx. Hair even darker, sharper, stick-straight and slipping into his eyes. His jaw is twitching and his lips are twitching