EXCERPT: MURDER OF CROWS

         "I only want to help you, Bex." The words flow from his mouth like poison. A smile darkened his face. It was a fallacy. His lips were the sugar that coated the malice in his intent look.



         She was the first to break away from the stare. "Help is fine, Bastion." As she stood, the world around her seemed to shift orbit. For a moment, she felt weak. It carried through her soft voice. Her fingers rubbed the long, raised scar behind her ear. That was her tell. Hiding secrets was not what she was intended for. Dr. Willis and Bastion and the others, brought her back to peel back the protective sanctuary that her mind had created and to expose the layers of her deepest repressed memories. For years, she had lived by their rules and schedules. A heat of rebellion rushed through her and for the first time, she looked him directly in the eyes. "But the thing is, you and I both know help is not what you intend do to me."



         Bastion knew this moment would come. One day, his little experiment would wake up from her oblivious state of mind and try to rebel. What could he expect? As a member of the MOC, it was hardwired in her veins. There was a brief second where his eyebrows knit together, nostrils flared, and the muscle beneath his jaw quaked before he regained his composure. "Do you remember the day we did the sensory memory trial and put you in the room with those photos flashing on the screen? When it got to the part where the photographs of people holding hands in unity and families switched to death and suffering, you started crying. For days, you beat yourself up over why meaningless photos would have such an effect on you and how you could feel betrayal, sense it. It tore you apart inside." He paused, allowing his words to sink in.



         Bex bit the inside of her lip. Her eyes followed his placid movements as he stood and walked to the door of his office, blocking her off. "Some memories are induced by senses. The smell of apples can remind you of the day you spent picking at an orchard. The color blue can remind you of your first plane ride. The taste of candy can remind you of childhood." Bastion's nimble fingers removed the keycard from his pocket. The door slid open, silently. Bright, harsh over head lights replaced the calming, ambient lamplight. "Just imagine what kind of memories we get from pain and fear."