The Wanted

Judith stopped short and whined to her older brother. “De

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing and peeked out from behind my arms. De

Denis chuckled and pushed me deeper into the room. My feet bit into the carpet in resistance. Was this my new form of torture? I craned my head back to look at Denis, my eyes questioning.

“Dad wants you in here with Judy because you keep destroying the cameras,” he said with a stupid smile on his face that I wanted to remove with sandpaper.

“I’m supposed to keep ma eye on you,” Judith drawled, pointing to her eye and pulling down the bottom lid with her orange-tinted finger, her eyeball juicy and red. Miming it out like I was too stupid to understand the words.

I grimaced. “I’d rather they threw me in prison.”

“Well, that’s not vaaarry nice.” Judith shook her head and pulled a pillow to her chest, hugging it like a teddy bear. I wanted to slap her pouting lips off her face.

Something vibrated in Denis’ pocket, a patch of light appearing through the material. He patted it but didn’t take it out. “I have to go,” he said apologetically.

He didn’t say goodbye, but then, he never did.

The door closed, sealing me in a bad dream like the lid closing over an airtight container. The air closed in around me, a cloud heavy with the smell of perfume and hair products. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and took a step closer.

Judith’s room wasn’t real. She didn’t seem real. Her perfect hair, her plastic-looking face. Perching on the edge of the bed, she watched me investigate my new living arrangements. She didn’t say anything but she made a lot of noise, huffing, puffing, and sighing every time I touched something.

I made my way to her dresser, tapping my finger along the different bottles of perfume, makeup, and nail polish. Pausing on a white pill bottle, I picked it up to read the label.

“That’s fer ma skin,” Judith said.

I shook it like a maraca. “Is that why you’re so orange?”

She pulled back, her hand to her heart like I’d wounded her.

I put the bottle down and pick up a lip gloss, rolling the sparkly pink tube between my fingers.

“You want to try it?” she asked, pinging me with the stretched rubber band that was her voice. I shook my head, a resounding no. “You know, this isn’t my idea of fun either. You could make a little efferrrt.”

I slammed the tube on the dresser, and she jumped. Her whole body pulling in like a startled slater bug. It seemed over the top. I watched her curiously, trying to decide what she was. Victim or foe. I wasn’t sure.

I vibrated with the want to shout at her, pull her hair, make her understand what my life was. Fun didn’t factor into it right now. The word was offensive to me. But I held it in. I needed to watch her, understand her more.

I simply said, “Please don’t talk to me about fun. It doesn’t exist for me.”

She blinked up at me, uncomprehending. And then a smile spread across her face, her thin lips shining artificially with glittery particles. “Of course not, silly, I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, her voice and her thin arms shaking as she spoke.

Was this some kind of show-me-who’s-boss kind of situation? Was she the dominant creature I was supposed to submit to? She didn’t even sound like she meant those words. Denis said give her a chance, but I couldn’t see why I should. Not yet anyway. I rounded the bed, eyeing the distance between us. What was Grant up to? I searched the corners for cameras.

“There are no cameras in here. Dad trusts me,” Judith bragged.

I wanted to cover my ears. “But he doesn’t trust me… What’s to stop me from holding you hostage, threatening your life to save my own?”

Judith shrugged her shoulders, that sad slump returning to her posture. “Go ahead. It won’t do ya any good. He’d let you kill me.” She dabbed her nose with the corner of the cushion she was still hugging tightly. She looked smaller and fragile, bathed in the silky pinkness that radiated from the nauseatingly flowery light above.

“But you’re his daughter,” I stammered. But then I remembered Denis saying he wasn’t the first Denis Grant.

“Yes I am, but there are more ware I came from.” She laughed pathetically.

Pity for her was squeezing its way between my ribs. I tried to resist it but I said, “I’m sorry,” before I could stop myself.

She hugged the pillow again. “It’s fine.”

“Denis said I should give you a chance, though I don’t understand why,” I managed through hard-set lips.

She laughed, her voice a bitter bark. “Yes, well, De

I prickled, my skin ruffled with bumps like a plucked chicken. “What do you mean?”

She beckoned with her carroty finger. I turned and leaned towards her, the sweet stench of her perfume making my throat itch.

“He wants to take our father’s place.” She swung her arms around the room. “You know, so he can change all of this.”

My fingers dug into the mattress. “But the only way he can do that is if Grant…”

“Dies? Yes. I didn’t say his plans were reaaalistic,” she muttered.

A thought pecked at the back of my neck like a bird. I know how, I know how…

I shuffled closer to her and tried to restrain the desperation in my voice. “If that’s true, why wouldn’t you tell your father of his plans?”

“I have plans too,” she said, picking at her nails and not meeting my eyes.

I returned to my bed and let her simple words roll over me. Redness creeped up my neck and crowded my cheeks, my breath coming in short, painful bursts.

Could I do it? Could I help them plan a murder?

Could I trust them?

Did I have a choice?

I knew the answer. It dinged inside my chest like a dull bell. No. I didn’t have a choice. If I had a chance to take Grant down, I had to take it.

I let her words sit in the air. I wasn’t giving her anything just now. I didn’t trust Denis wholly, and I definitely didn’t trust her. Standing up, I twisted my hair in my hands.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” I asked.

She lifted her eyes to mine, her lashes crimped and u

“We get ready for di

The next morning, Denis accompanied me downstairs like he had for the last few days. He coasted slowly next to me, his feet perfectly placed one after the other, his hand hovering near my waist but barely touching it. Then he broke from his normal behavior and dipped down to make eye contact with me. “How was your first night with Judy?” he asked.

“She snores, and she wears a mouth guard; it makes this horrible squeaaak when she grinds her teeth together,” I replied.

He laughed quietly and his fingers tapped across the small of my back.

The sunlight was white, cold. Sinister. It lazered my face and eyes as we walked past the windows. My body started to seize up the closer we got to the elevator doors. Once I passed through, all joking and pretending was over. I wasn’t relieved that at least this meant I wasn’t being terminated. How could you be relieved that your torture would continue?

The elevator ride would suck the smiles off our faces.

We reached the elevator doors and I slapped at the button weakly, but I didn’t actually press down. My lips trembled and my heart shivered in my chest. Every day it was harder. But I was getting harder too, my skin tougher, my eyes too used to violence, my body expecting pain and starting to understand it in a disturbing way. Denis went to push the elevator button, but I blocked his hand.