Cognitive Deviance

81. Fragmented

The Fatemaker shook in the hands of the younger Margo Sandoval. There was confusion in her eyes, frustration, refusal to accept what the woman before her had declared. How long had she been there? Was she trustworthy? Or would she mutate into another abomination beyond comprehension?

"Prove it," the younger Margo said. "Prove we're the same person."

The present-day Margo cleared her throat and asked, "Where are your parents?"

The younger Margo squinted. "I'm not gonna tell you."

"What happened to Dad?"

The youngest Margo, the poor girl curled into a fetal position on the floor, covered her head with her hands. Her breathing worsened.

"Don't talk about that," whispered the younger Margo.

"Did he die?"

The younger Margo's eyes pierced deeper, cautious and disbelieving. She took a step back, the Fatemaker still shaking in her hands.

"What happened to him?" said the present Margo.

"Mine did," said the younger Margo, and she glanced down at the youngest self. "Although, we're waiting for hers to die."

Margo Present took a step forward, only to have her younger self exclaim, "Don't move!"

"Your name is Margo Olivia Sandoval," said the present-day Margo. "You're sixteen years old and attending Fincher High. Your mom's name is Karen, your dad's name is Ted, and you haven't seen him since that car accident that led to you guys joining the P3S and moving to a townhome in Whitman. You and Mom have also stayed in contact with the Psychwatch officer that rescued you guys, Carl Maslow, and you know he has dissociative identity disorder because he introduced you to Catalina while you were still lying in bed in the hospital. She wanted to test how much Spanish you knew."

The younger Margo lowered her gun by an inch, but her expression remained disoriented.

"Mom homeschooled you after the car accident because of the bullies, and neither of you didn't want to be alone, especially when Mom started exhibiting symptoms of PTSD. You had your hair cut short because you hated the way it covered your face and made you look reserved, and now you yank on it when you get frustrated or scared. You're not religious but still think something out there created the universe, and you also hate going to parties because you hate drugs and don't like how the quieter kids judge you for being too outgoing."

By then, the gun hovered by her side, and a sad relief, as if accepting a hard truth, washed right through her. "I guess you're me," she said.

Connecting over lies, Margo Present thought. Wonder if I should tell her the memories are fake. Or if the youngest me on the floor told her already. If she's said anything at all.

She glanced at her youngest self, hypothesizing she was the version of her that existed before Erase-and-Replace. "Can I talk to her?" she asked Margo Post-Erasure.

Margo Post, her teen self with the Fatemaker, nodded her head, and Margo Present approached her youngest self and knelt down to her level. She held out her hand, awaiting a glance from her.

"Your name is Margo Sandoval, too," said Margo Present. "You're ten years old. You live in a small apartment in Hunting Park with no air conditioning. Your dad breaks furniture and swears at you when he gets angry. Sometimes, when Mom isn't home, he'll beat you, too. But when Mom is home, she'll tell you to go down to the pool or the playground so you don't see what Dad does to her. You—"

Margo Present stopped when her Pre-Erasure self grabbed her hand and squeezed with all her might, as if to stop the memories from flooding back. When she finally looked back with watery eyes, all Margo Present saw was fear and embarrassment.