Toxic Heart by Theo Lawrence Read Free Book Online

injections. Red. Orange. Yellow.
    “So I thought I’d hang around and watch,” Thomas continues.
    “That’s nice of you,” I manage to say before the other mystic mutes me with a mouth guard. Something is placed over my head and I feel intense pressure against my temples.
    “Because I have to say, Aria, you’ve caused me a lot of pain.” Thomas gives me a wicked smile. “I offered to marry you, to beyour husband. And you just threw it in my face like you were too good for me.”
    I
am
too good for you
, I want to say, but the mouthpiece stops me.
    I wiggle my arms, which feel swollen from the shots, trying to see if there’s any slack in the restraints. I can no longer move my head or my neck, and I am staring straight ahead at one of Thomas’s stupid mystic paintings. I want to leap out of this chair and rip it off the wall.
    “Almost ready, Mr. Foster,” one of the traitor mystics says.
    “Good, good,” Thomas replies. He turns to the silver-clad guards. “That’s all for now. You are dismissed.” They leave the room, and Thomas turns his attention back to me. “Soon you’ll be a whole new girl, Aria. A nice girl who does what she’s told. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
    I refuse to look at him. I focus on the painting instead. It’s of a cluster of water lilies that seem to sway in an invisible wind. The colors melt from purple to pink to a darkish red, then back to purple. Thomas is still talking.
Tune him out
, I tell myself.
Just tune him out
.
    I may only have a few moments left as myself. As Aria Rose. I fought so hard to regain the memories that were stolen from me. It’s not fair that I will lose them again.
    No more Hunter. There’s no Patrick Benedict around this time to save my memories of the boy I love and store them away in a silvery heart locket.
    No more memories of Kyle or my parents. No more of my friends Kiki and Bennie. No more Shannon. Names and faces of people I will probably never think about again flood my brain,saying their goodbyes. I picture Markus—his shooting makes me think of my father, of how carelessly he shot that gondolier the night he found me in Thomas’s apartment.
    Will I miss him? My mother? Kyle?
    I don’t know. The easy answer is no, of course—not after what they did to me. How they betrayed me. But it’s more complicated than that. They’re still my family. I once loved them. Maybe I still do.
    Why did Hunter make those videos without telling me? Why didn’t he just ask me to make a statement? Is that why he didn’t want me coming back to the city? So I wouldn’t be able to speak for myself?
    A wave of nausea overtakes me and I retch. I haven’t eaten since back at the compound, though, and nothing comes up. My throat is sore and I start to cry, even though I want to seem strong.
    Maybe Thomas is right, and I have been naive. Thanks to my chats with Hunter, I may even have made things worse here in the city. Maybe not knowing anymore will be for the best, a blessing in disguise.
    My eyelids are incredibly heavy, and I fight the urge to close them.
    “Once your head is empty, we will turn you into our little spokesperson,” Thomas is saying. “Might as well get some use out of you. And maybe we’ll figure out a way to use the rest of you, too. Why waste such a nice body?”
    I cringe. So it won’t be a blessing.
    This is it. This is the end.
    My eyes find the café painting again.
    “Mr. Foster,” one of the mystics says. “We’re ready to begin.”
    At least the last thing I look at as myself will be pretty. The yellow awning over the café tables turns to orange to a perfectly baked brown, and I see figures moving, drinking coffee. A dot in the distance—a red circle, maybe a light from a window—begins to burn brightly and expand.
    It grows from a tiny speck to the size of my thumbnail, and then even larger, stretching out like taffy until it is no longer a circle but more of an oval. A head pops out, followed by arms, then