Marigold Heather Manheim (most important books to read .TXT) 📖

“What do you mean, ‘responsible’?” asked Quinn.

“Well, I work at the Everett Center. And one day, they asked me to, I’m not sure what the right word is. Eh, to do something outside my regular job. Everyone else was busy, so they had me take a young boy; he was maybe eleven. He was terrified. I recall that. And then, you know?”

“I’m not sure what you mean. Can you tell us what you did with the boy or why he was so scared,” Quinn asked, confusion knitted in her brow.

“Yes, I think. Wait, let me think.” Here Davis paused for another long time, taking sips of water and looking as if she was trying to collect her thoughts. “Well, huh. I think they told me he was a transfer of some kind. I don’t remember the whole story. Just remember the terror on his face. And at the time, I felt it was wrong. But it was, honestly, like something was controlling my moves, propelling me forward. For years in my dreams, it’s haunted me. I think deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. But, I did it anyhow. I took him down a long hallway, him crying and screaming the whole time. Being with me must have been better than what he expected to happen next because after I handed him over, he grabbed onto me. He didn’t want to let go. But I forced him off. He kept grabbing for me, and I wasn’t even brave enough to watch them drag him off. I just turned and walked away. Now, I get here and know they may have eliminated him.” Davis gulped down a large breath of air and felt as if she was choking back tears. “It makes me sick. I knew…knew something was wrong and didn’t do anything.” Tears flooded Davis’s eyes and poured down her cheeks. Her face got hot and sweaty, and she put her head down on her arm, noticing once again she had gripped her fingers into her palm so deep that blood was flowing from four crescent-shaped marks in her palm.

Quinn got up and sat next to Davis, lightly rubbing her back. “Davis, it’s okay,” she cooed.

“It isn’t.”

“It is. Really. We’ve all done things that haven’t made us proud. Whether it was because of the mind control drug or just trying to survive in that crazy world, we’ve all made mistakes and performed with less than heroic behavior.”

“And, if he was that young, and it was at the Everett Center, he likely went to reprogramming, not elimination,” offered Ana in a light, delicate voice that indicated she was trying to be helpful.

“But,” said Davis, “I knew it was wrong. Yes, I felt an almost persistent urge to do as they told me, and honestly, I’m not sure how I could have helped him anyhow. But I wanted to. Deep down, I wanted to, but I did nothing.” Davis was now sobbing uncontrollably. She was also feeling self-conscious as she had shared more than she originally meant to.

“Crying and talking will help,” chirped in Cricket. “I’m a champion crier! It helps to process things, and I’m glad you trusted us enough to tell us. I know it isn’t easy, but try not to blame yourself. As you said, you were not in a position to help, and you didn’t issue the order yourself to take the boy into custody.”

Davis started to calm down a little, comforted by the ladies and having fatigued herself from such heavy crying. Then the tears suddenly started anew. “But I wasn’t brave, and now, once again, I’m not brave enough to help you guys.”

Quinn immediately and enthusiastically replied, “Oh, that’s not a sign of being brave or not! We brought you here under our wishes; you had nothing to do with that. We gave you tons of overwhelming information, and you had to make the best decision for yourself. Nobody blames you for anything or has a second of thought that you are not brave.”

“You know,” added Ana, “You have been through so much lately. Try not to be hard on yourself. You’re punishing yourself for things you can’t control. The nightmares—you’re punishing yourself even while you sleep! Oh, Davis! Thinking you’re not brave, that’s you punishing yourself for what? Thinking we might not like you anymore? Might be disappointed in you? I can assure you that’s not the case. Not that I blame you for anything; none of us do. So please don’t think that, but maybe tonight before you go to bed, just ask forgiveness from the boy. Pray if you do. Ask God and the boy to forgive you, then permit yourself to forgive yourself. Try to believe the best outcome possible happened to him. You are assuming he met a terrible fate. It’s just as likely he’s okay. Perhaps he was reprogrammed and is living a happy life, just as you did in the Pods. Or, perhaps he was rescued and is living in a supportive bunker. It’s not necessarily bad.” Here, Ana paused for a good beat. Tears were swelling up in her own eyes. “You know, I had to forgive myself for something terrible too. So, I do know what it feels like.”

Davis noticed Quinn giving Ana a look. It conveyed that Quinn was proud of Ana, which Davis thought was sweet and friendly. Quickly though, Davis saw that look turn into something akin to panic.

Ana ignored her look and started, “My mom, Camila, she kept us away from the Pods to take care of my father, Jose, who was sick and not allowed in any of the Class One or Two Pods and, therefore, could not get the proper care. We were starving, though, so my mom went to break into a storage unit to get us nutrition biscuits. Only ten years old, I was confused. My last injection had only been a few days before we fled into the woods. So, my mom took me to the edge