The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (best novels of all time TXT) 📗

beginning to settle into my bones and muscles. I was pretty sure I was in a mild state of shock, but I needed the numbness right then. I needed Prim, because I wasn’t certain how long I could maintain the façade.

“How are you doing?”

I looked up to see Gerome gazing down at me, and was surprised to see one big hand settled in a strangely paternal gesture upon my shoulder. “I was shaken the first time I saw one of those,” he added, when I didn’t immediately respond. “But you must understand. This is for the best, Liana. That woman didn’t have a hope of rising back up for longer than a few days, and everyone near her would lower as well—Scipio gave us all the data, told us what needed to be done.” He sighed. “It is the only way to save the Tower we all love.”

Prim felt like nodding, so I nodded. I could still see the pink streaks on the glass where the woman had been scrambling in her efforts to escape. I wanted to protest, to scream and kick and cry, but Prim overruled it. Gerome’s hand on my shoulder was heavy, and suddenly I couldn’t bear it touching me, feeling revulsion radiating from the site. Prim had me step away, toward the glass, and I hated her for it, even though the action continued to keep me safe.

“You’ll handle the next one,” he said when I continued my silence.

The words speared through me, and I felt my knees weaken. Even Prim couldn’t stop the bile rising into my throat, but she managed to swallow it down, forcing me to breathe through my mouth in long, slow breaths. They weren’t steady, but they were slow.

Gerome didn’t miss any of it.

“The first time you see one is never as difficult as doing it yourself for the first time,” he warned as he pressed another button, which produced an eerily pleasant chime sound. “It’s never easy doing the right thing, but it does get easier. I promise.”

The door on the far side of the cell slid open, revealing a dark holding area beyond. A figure was being pushed forward, shoved into the cell, a one glowing bright on his arm. As he came to a slow stop and lowered his eyes, I felt my heart lurch and the world around me deteriorate and fall apart before my eyes.

“It’s just the press of a button,” Gerome said. “And they feel no pain.”

In the cell, the prisoner stood, gazing around with brown eyes. His clothes were just as I remembered them; it had only been a day since we had talked. His hands were balled into fists, and he had a long, bloody cut across his chest.

“Just one button, and the Tower is safe.”

In the cell, Grey turned, and even though I knew he couldn’t see me, it felt like he was looking straight at me.

The Knights killed Roark’s wife, his voice taunted in my mind. And this time, a Knight had to kill Grey.

14

“Liana, the button?”

Prim’s and my eyes flicked over to Gerome, and the big, red, glowing button on the wall just over his shoulder. I felt her consider it, her practicality cold and unyielding. I jerked her back and took over, unwilling to let any aspect of me—drugged or not—commit that atrocity.

“Liana?”

I had to stall for time, figure out a way to get him out of there, get him to safety. It wouldn’t matter if it was Grey or someone else; I couldn’t allow this to happen. I couldn’t kill him. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept coming up with nothing, my mind flashing to the woman’s eyes and imagining what it would be like to see Grey’s eyes in their place. Or Zoe’s. Eric’s. Alex’s. My parents’. Mine.

I imagined the helplessness of being in there, no control, in pain from whatever brutal treatment I had endured, only to have my life stolen from me. The only crime committed: the failure to conform.

“Liana.”

“I can’t,” I blurted out honestly, unable to think of anything else.

Gerome stared down at me with his cold, flat eyes. “You can’t?” he repeated.

I made my head bob, and suppressed a look at Grey. I was fairly certain the glass was one-way, but I didn’t want to risk the chance I was wrong. If the glass wasn’t one-way, I just hoped he didn’t give away that we knew each other—if he did, I would never get him out of there.

Gerome took a deep breath, then actually smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “I was reluctant my first time, too, and for good reason. It is hard taking a life, as it should be. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be right. I’m sure you’ll come to realize that soon, and understand that these are sacrifices we make for the good of the Tower.”

No, I won’t, I replied in my head, feeling the heat of my conviction rushing through me.

“For now,” Gerome said, “we’ll let the matter be.”

I felt a moment of relief, then realized what he was saying. If I didn’t kill Grey, would he?

“Sir? What will happen to him? Will he be returned to restructuring?”

I wasn’t sure what prompted me to ask the question about restructuring, but as it left my lips, I realized that I desperately wanted to know. After all, it was supposedly what these cells were all about: rehabilitation of the most depraved ones, if possible. Not to mention, I’d seen Grey only yesterday. That meant they’d caught him between then and now, and it didn’t seem like they had done anything to him like they had to the woman. Yet.

“Restructuring rarely works,” he informed me. “The success rate has only been six percent, and even then... well, let’s just say this way is more humane. We perform it for a week to give them one final chance, but more often than not, it’s easier to bring them here and be done with it. Sometimes Scipio