Olivia…?

My grip on the patient’s face softens, a feeling of nostalgia creeping up on me.

Their face…

Wiping the blood from their mouth with my claw, I get a closer look at their face; the patient has light freckles dotted along their cheeks and heterochromatic eyes. Their left eye is a bright turquoise, and their right is caramel–

Just like hers.

I shake the memories away, keeping my focus on the patient as an Advocate rolls a wheelchair to my side.

“Move.” I hiss, picking 693 up and setting them in the wheelchair. The Advocate backs up again, raising their hands in defence as a low growl escapes me. My tail flicks angrily, almost hitting a few of the Advocates in the room as I stand up and carefully place the patient into a wheelchair.

Neither of us speak a word to each other as I wheel the patient out of the Giggler sector. The halls are dead quiet, the only sounds being my echoing footsteps and the thoughts that plague my mind. I slide my keycard into the reader, opening the door to 693’s room.

“Take it easy, now, I’m going to help you into b–”

They slap my hand away when I try to help them up.

“…Liar.”

“693, I can explain–”

“Shut. Up.” They say through gritted teeth, standing up from the wheelchair and quickly losing balance. I catch them by the wrists, but they weakly kick my leg in response in an attempt to stop me. “Stop.”

“You can’t stand on your own, let me help you.” I mutter, lifting them into bed. They kick and flail until I place them onto the sheets and lift my hands defensively.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT-!” Their voice is frail as they break into another coughing fit.

“Easy, easy… Don’t work yourself up.”

“…Work myself up-?!” They jeer. “Fuck you.”

My tail swishes anxiously against the floor as I shift my weight to my other foot.

“…I didn’t want this to happen.” I can feel my expression harden as that achy feeling returns again.

“Stop– Stop smiling, you asshole, STOP IT-! ”

“I CAN’T, DAMMIT!” I snap, digging my claws into my palms as I take a step forward. The patient flinches at my outburst, tears welling up in their eyes as they clench their fists.

They look just like…

.

.

.

[ JULY 28TH, 1997 ]

“Don’t cry, my love…” I gently cup her face with my hands and stroke her cheeks with my thumbs.

She’s so beautiful, even when she cries…

“You’ll be so far away, Miles, I just…” Her voice trails off. “…I don’t know what I’ll do without you…”

“It won’t be easy, for both of us, but… I need this, Olivia- I need help.” A tear rolls down her cheek onto my thumb, and I wipe it away before pushing a strand of her silky, auburn hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back in no time, I promise.”

She sniffles and gives me a look of anxiety.

“We can celebrate my recovery with your favourite wine and charcuterie board when I return, how does that sound, darling?” I say in a lighthearted manner, trying to uplift the mood. She chuckles weakly, her beautiful smile encouraging one of my own as she wraps her arms around me. Tears sting my eyes at her warm, comforting embrace.

Olivia gently grips the back of my head, pulling me in and kissing me softly. When her lips part from mine, she caresses my cheek with her hand as she speaks up again.

“I love you forever.”

“Forever and always, Olivia.” I blink my tears away and squeeze her hand.

My grip on her hand slowly releases as I step into the black cab. I take in the sight of her one final time before shutting the door. 

.

.

.

“…I apologise for my outburst. That was highly unprofessional of me.”

They huff and hug their knees in response, looking away from me with anger visible on their face. I grab their patient file from the counter and look closely at it.

Skyler Jones .

My breath hitches as I flip through the documents, looking for a specific section of the patient file.

I never thought anything of it– Jones is a fairly common surname and the Ministry only refers to patients by their assigned number…

PATIENT RELATIONS

Name: Bryan Miller

Relationship to Patient: Guardian (Foster Father)

Name: Brenda Miller

Relationship to Patient: Guardian (Foster Mother)

PATIENT HISTORY

• Biological mother died in 2004

• Tendency to scratch/pick at skin when anxious (Excoriation Disorder)

• Panic attacks and “flashbacks” occur under extreme pressure

This is too specific to be a coincidence.

Looking up from the files, I turn back to the patient, my tail swishing anxiously as I take in what I can see of their facial features from afar.

I shouldn’t…

…But I have to know.

I bend down and rummage through the cabinets, grabbing a small box from the inside of the cabinet. It’s located in the very back, since it’s quite rare for the Ministry to use them; DNA swabs for if we ever need to identify a patient for any reason. 693 anxiously scratches at their neck until I cautiously approach, pulling their hand away.

“Stop… You’re going to hurt yourself... Skyler.”

When I say their name, they open their mouth in shock- so I take the opportunity and swab the inside of their cheek.

“T-The fuck-?! What is wrong with you?!” They shout in a shrill voice, swatting my hand away.

“My apologies, 693- I just want to… make sure that none of our treatments have internally affected you.”

“…Piss off.”

With haste, I set the swab into a small tube and grab their patient file, exiting the room before I further aggravate them.

As I take the elevator down to the Lower Division, thoughts plague my mind once again.

She moved on from me…

I never went back–

I never could.

The question is… 

Who took my place?

The hum of the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open; the sound of Advocates going in and out of each room filling the halls. I head to Doctor Kelman’s labs with the knowledge that there’s a handful of advanced machines at my disposal. When I arrive, the Advocates move out of my way as per usual, exchanging subtle looks of confusion when I approach one of the machines rather than the doors to Doctor Kelman’s office.

I grab the swab from the tube and place it into the machine, trying to be as precise as possible as my hand slightly trembles. The clicking of my mechanical tail draws attention to me as it swishes anxiously against the ground as the fur on the back of my neck stands up with unease. I punch the necessary information into the machine for the forms before pressing the ‘Begin Analysis’ button. The machine lights up and starts with a low hum.

Normally, I would step away from the machine while it does its thing, but I wait. 

I don’t want anyone seeing what I’m looking for- especially Kelman.

Analysis like this would usually take weeks at a time; but the Ministry’s data processing machines are the most technologically advanced in the country. I guard that machine with my life and wait the whole time it takes to analyse the swab until it spits out the results on a sheet of paper.

With a shaky hand, I take the results from the machine, digesting each word as I read through the data. My heart drops to my stomach when I get to the bottom of the page, my grip on it tightening intensely. The room around me begins to spin and distort, my entire body freezing as I read the data several times over. My heart begins pounding in my chest as my eyes widen and my breath quickens with distress.

DNA ANALYSIS RESULTS: 04/05/2017

Possible DNA Match:

Olivia Jones - 50%

• Suspected: Mother

Miles Cedars- 50%

• Suspected: Father

CRASH–!

A few Advocates jump back in fear as my mechanical tail thrashes against the counter, knocking a tray of syringes and Joy Serum to the floor with a loud shatter. Tears sting at my eyes as I instinctively catch my balance on the metal cabinets, which make a loud screeching sound as my claws roughly glide through them.

One of the lab workers grabs a walkie-talkie, though I can’t quite make out what they’re saying due to my panicked state. It feels like my whole world is falling apart around me now that I’ve discovered the harsh truth of this case–

Skyler Jones is my child–

And my Olivia is dead.