In a futuristic society where people are differentiated and valued based on the purity of their genes, can a person define for themselves who they really are? Or does The Gene Test provide the answer for them?
Depression... Addiction... Criminality...
As I drive out of the city, a pang of pain wrenches at my heartstrings. Being away from her for one day already makes me feel uneasy, I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to leave her for two weeks and not go mad.
It hurts me to be all secretive with her about what this trip is for, but when it comes to my family, the less she knows, the safer she'll be. She thinks my sister's dead... Maybe it's better this way.
We arrive at a small motel located at a walking distance from Bay Shore Preparatory School For Girls. After helping me with my bags, Hershel drives off back to the city, and then it's just me. I'm all on my own now. Not like I ever had a problem dealing with that.
***
I spend the first few days observing her from afar. I memorize her route, the hiking trail she takes to school in the morning, and the way she goes home in the afternoon. I try to convince myself that I'm not being a total creepy stalker, but I guess if the shoe fits...
After the third day, I think she comes to notice my presence.
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"Who's there?" She feigns fearlessness, judging by the way her hands tremble even when she speaks boldly. "I have a weapon in my bag and I'm not afraid to use it."
I see her retrieve a compact umbrella, and sigh to myself. That can't be her idea of a weapon... If I were actually someone out to harm her she'd be dead in five minutes, tops. It makes me worry for her. Is she capable of protecting herself if a dangerous situation were to arise?
She may be a teenager now, but I'll always see her in the image of the little girl with pigtails burnt in my memories. I don't care what my PI said. I know it's her. I know it's Sara. The look in her blue-grey eyes mirrors the one I'd often see as both of us cowered in one corner, hearing the crashes and shouts coming from my father's office or our parents' bedroom – A flimsy layer of false bravery streaked over fragmented fear.
I slink back into the shadows, and eventually she walks on.
***
On Friday, she takes longer than usual to appear on the forest path she takes from school. After waiting for a good half hour, I find myself moving towards the school in search of her.
When I'm nearly reaching the back gate of the school, I hear some cries, "What are you doing? Let go of me!" Why is that voice so familiar... My eyes widen as I automatically begin running towards where the cries came from.
Then I see her, with each of her arms held by a girl in the same uniform as hers, struggling to break free. Another girl approaches her from the front, holding a bag of...
A handful of the white powder is thrown into Sara's face. Flour. She coughs and attempts to wipe the flour out of her eyes.
