Chapter 11

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Ten days later, I sat up in bed to write in my journal.

"The air is still, and beautiful, and cold, and clear. Why is it so hard to breathe?"

I stood to see if that would help. My legs protested, stiff and aching. Today had been a nightmare, starting with mock C-sections. I had thrown up, as predicted. We had become familiar with PTSD therapy techniques. We also practiced using phrases to give in response to common questions that Vessels and Unnecessaries asked on the journey back to the Territory. They also trained us in techniques to soothe a child's night terrors, making us watch hours of children who suffered them.

It made my heart feel tired, but my body was sore because I had climbed the wall three times. I don't know what hurt more, that I only made it to twenty-eight feet the third time or that I had to endure more passive-aggressive torture from Tessa. Tessa, in the past week, had praised the bravery of every Protector who she thought would succeed, then just glared in disgust at the rest of us.

There would be silence when I came down the rope and jumped off the wall, barely landing on my jelly legs. Brie and Megan told me I did okay, but my twenty-eight feet did little to impress Collin.

Collin. Hours earlier, he'd wanted me to try to climb the wall one more time before ISO week. I'd refused, and his reaction didn't surprise me at all.

"Take a lap, Aislyn. Whole complex."

"I can't! I won't! Tessa will be there and make sure I don't—"

"Shoes off! Now!"

He looked more scared than angry, like always. I ripped off the velcro of my shoe, stifling a laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I just thought about how happy you'll be when I die. Maybe I'll finally make my trainer proud. You care more about being right than you do about teaching me what I need to know."

I threw my shoes on the ground and headed out the door. Within seconds, I could hear him beating the crud out of the punching bag. I ran past the threshold when I heard him yell in frustration.

For all my claims of being emotionally spent, tears had still come to my eyes. It was my fault, too. I didn't want to see Tessa's reaction if I failed again. I should have tried again and ignored Tessa, but I couldn't.

I wanted to hate Collin, but I still didn't. I couldn't hate anyone so devoted to anything like he was. He had this dual of anger and regret that danced around each other. In all my effort to uncover why, all I could see were flashes of pain. I just didn't know why that pain could make him so guilty.

When I got back, I felt the same whiplash that Collin always gave me. Only it was more acute.

Eldridge was right: a Protector felt sorrow, pain, and beauty, all as sharp as knives. But the beauty cut the deepest.

Collin had been in the Circle running around with a five-year-old girl, playing tag. I remembered that we were supposed to talk to an Unnecessary child about their experiences and recovery, but I had forgotten it was on the schedule. Her story was as heart-breaking as I would expect. Her mom had abandoned her at age two because she looked unpromising in emotional stability and early IQ tests. She'd dropped the girl off at the usual children's center, and a Sub-Terra that was installing some hardware had overheard her talking to the instructor. The Sub-Terra knew what would happen, so she hid the child in her work bag, took her to the shuttle, and kept her safe for a few days. But she ran into a street where a Sentry was on duty—and Brie, hiding from the same Sentry, chose her van to take cover inside. She drove them both to the border and to freedom.

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