Control

xxvii | lauren

WAS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE THE NEW NORMAL?

I press my forehead against the cool window panel, looking out at the destroyed city. Before, you could tell how much a city thrived from the buildings in the city. There was a difference between first-world and third-world countries. They all look the same now. The people act the same. Everything is the same. Where's the variety?

Wait, I know. The people in power now have actual powers, or have power over them. But even that will soon be something shared by millions. For now, only the elite have it. World leaders have been replaced by teenagers, taking orders from me, who's taking orders from the heads of the Institute.

Everyone looks so dead on the inside. Bags formed under everyone's eyes. Their walk was sluggish. None of them looked like they had a will to live. Me neither, to be honest. I couldn't live such a luxurious life with so many people in pain.

I hate this. I hate all of this. I want everything to stop in their place and I wanted to talk to someone and try to fix this entire mess. But I couldn't with millions of eyes watching my every move, looking at me as their ruthless leader.

There's a knock at my door. I turn my body slowly, away from the window, but don't say anything. I don't even get up to open the door. There was only ever one person that comes to get me, and if I don't reply within ten seconds, she opens the door herself. I'm not allowed to have it locked.

The door creaked open and in she came, probably with another request. But she doesn't start by screaming and yelling, telling to get away from that damn window and do something useful for once. The one good thing about this really is that I don't actually have to show my face to the world, but Mom makes me do it anyway.

It's crazy how much she's done in the last couple hours. Since that chaotic confession from earlier this morning to getting to the palace, getting everything set and having almost everyone who was still standing and alive connected to some mind control grid.

Did Spencer really just spill everything this morning? Was it really not that long ago. It feels like forever ago.

Mom sits across from me. She's wearing sweats, not a lab coat like she usually did nowadays. His fingers run through my hair, moving stands away from my eyes. Her hands were unnaturally cold. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Is this all really necessary?" I asked in response. "Why do we need to control everyone? Don't we need variety and balance? I mean, we can't have a perfect society if some people are trying to be more powerful than others."

"That's not the perfection we're looking for." 

I already knew my argument was invalid. This was about health and criminal justice and all that. This was about trying to fix everything that is wrong about the world as a whole. "Couldn't you just try and talk to the government or something. Did we have to go down this path?"

"You really think we would achieve anything without force? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but the world is a bit more complicated than that."

I stood up, crossing my arms. "Do you want to tell me why you are here in the first place, mother? I'm pretty sure you aren't here to comfort me."

"Have you had any contact with your brother?" She asked without hesitating. She's never going to talk to me just for comfort, is she.

But contact with Spencer? She's supposed to keep tags on him. I mean, she's the person that wanted him as her successor, plus, she's supposed to be his mother, too. I'm not her only kid. I'm not even her first. "Why would I have contact? I'm stuck here. Isn't he supposed to be with you either way. Did he not want to be apart of this either? You shouldn't force your children into a future they don't want. That's bad parenting right there."