Chapter 13 - Discard

Emily knew that the light was different before she even opened her eyes. Her ears picked up mummers of fresh voices and she awoke feeling a sense of dread.

“Emily? Emily? Can you hear me?” came the voice of a doctor close to her face.

“Oh, no!” was all Emily could say, realising that it was all over. The hostage exchange had taken place.

“Your family are on their way,” the doctor stated reassuringly. “We’re just running some tests on you. You seem to have put on a significant amount of weight in the last six months.”

Six months? Was that how long it had been? Emily thought miserably to herself. Her brain somehow felt clearer and yet more confused than ever before. The update to her chip had been uninstalled; they’d told her that pretty early on. They seemed to talk about it as if that had been the reason for everything that she had done; as if she herself was entirely blameless. That was, apart from her family, who showed up a few hours later, wide eyed at the sight of her. They hugged her, of course, and told her how glad they were that she was safe at last, but there was also a seething anger behind their eyes. They bundled her in the autocar and took her home the next day, after the tests revealed a remarkable state of health, despite gaining over one hundred pounds of extra fat during her time in captivity.

It was obvious how different the built up areas were now, as Emily rode back into the city. They hadn’t been destroyed by bombs or fires, but were dirty, with buildings that had been obviously looted for supplies. When Emily asked what had happened whilst she had been gone, she was met with a simple, one-word response: war.

The world felt dull and colourless as Emily entered back into it. Without her chip update, she couldn’t get used to her old ways of thinking. Although everyone had told her how wicked and evil the F80 had been to her, Emily, even now, still longed for him.

She began to wish she didn’t feel that way, reminding herself of the cruel way she had been passed back to her family, without even a goodbye. She thought back to the psychologists in the hospital, making it clear to her that she hadn’t been to blame for any of what had happened. Marz had been able to control her arousal and shape her actions in ways that even they had never seen before. They were adamant, Emily should see herself as a victim. It was fine if she didn’t understand that just yet, but, in time, she would.

Their stares would always drift from looking into her eyes at this point, onto her chubby cheeks or rounded double chin: ‘nothing’ that had been done to her, they would state forcefully, was ‘irreversible’.