Distortion

Lauren stood before the door, hesitating to knock. Something was gnawing at her, eating her up from the inside, but the girl couldn’t understand what it was. Conscience? Guilt? These feelings weren’t inherent to her. Adjusting her hair, Lauren raised her hand and knocked on the door. “Hi,” she breathed out, unable to think of anything more 'in her style'. “Come in,” James opened the door wider, letting the guest in. She hovered in the hallway, not knowing where to leave the wine, and finally carried it into the living room, placing it on the table. “Pizza?” Lauren smirked, barely touching the warm box on the table with her fingertips. “Haven’t had it in ages.” “You look younger,” the man, having locked the door, opened the refrigerator. “There’s beer.” “You clearly prepared,” the girl perched on the edge of a chair. “Especially since you named the place and time yourself.” “You didn’t resist,” James took out two bottles in dark glass. “You think we’re friends now?” she opened the box, separating a slice of cooling pizza. “No,” he opened a bottle and clinked it down in front of Lauren. “I’m checking how much longer you can keep lying.” Lauren seemed paralyzed. She silently drew in air through her nose, and the corners of her lips twitched into their usual smile. The guest didn’t answer, buying herself time with a sip of beer. Her gaze slid around the room, noticing a large, thread-bound folder on the table. *Valentina*. “So that’s why I couldn’t find my file,” Lauren laughed quietly. “It was with her. And how did you like it?” “Some information is missing,” James, having taken a sip from his bottle, sat on the sofa by the table, putting Lauren on display like an exhibit in the middle of the room. Collected, cold, and just as lifeless. “For example, about why she hired you. And she said something else about Laos.” “I think you already know everything,” Lauren stood up, pulling down the hem of her black dress. “I’m leaving.” “Not now,” he leaned forward, grabbing the girl by the wrist. The guest, not expecting it, twisted her hand and jerked it back sharply, freeing herself. She stumbled back towards the table, feeling the adrenaline rising in her blood. “Enough. Can you ever be real?” “I don’t know,” she exhaled with her lips alone, touching the table with her hands as her only support in this tension. “I don’t know what’s left of the real me.” “Back at the diner, I thought that *was* you,” James stood up but still hesitated to approach the girl. “Or then, when I took you to the vault. Your fear is visible, and it seems that’s the only real thing left.” “You can think that,” straightening up, Lauren pushed her dark hair away from her face. “You pretend to read me, but it’s all just reports written by a clerk.” “What happened in Laos?” he knew he’d lost her again, driven her back into her shell, forced her to hide behind the mask. “I want to know what to expect.” “Strange that Valentina didn’t tell you,” Lauren, taking a few large gulps from the bottle, sank onto the sofa. “After encountering the Shard, I was given a stabilizing serum that was supposed to neutralize its effects. At first, it did, but they didn’t account for the fact that they made that serum for ordinary scientists whose biggest stress is no morning coffee. On me, the serum wore off during a mission in Laos when one of the squad was shot. We had to drag him back through gunfire to the base, where I 'lost control.' That’s what she called it. I still call it a slaughter. The Shard seemed to go berserk, and I just blacked out, only remember flashes and how I came to in a helicopter, covered in blood. I don’t know how, but Valentina got me out of there, maybe someone managed to send a distress signal.” “Were you already working for her then?” James, sitting beside her, had lost his earlier anger. His shoulders slumped, his body leaning back into the soft cushions. In the girl sitting next to him, he saw another soldier on a leash. “She was the one who sent me for the Shard,” Lauren picked at the softened label on the bottle with her nail. “Ever killed two of your own squads in two years? I have.” “What about why she hired you now?” he felt he could pull more out of the girl if he pushed. “Typical story,” Lauren, smirking, took a sip. “Getting close, manipulation, control. You all thought Valentina was on your leash, but it turned out the other way around. As usual.” “You agreed easily,” the man remarked, tightly gripping the bottle in his bionic hand. “You’re not the first,” she stood up, placing the bottle on the table with a dull thud. “I understand how it looks. I don’t even trust myself.” “We’ll play by her rules,” James stood up to see her out. “Until we find a way out.”