The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (e reader for manga TXT) 📕

a baton,” Roark said, noticing my curiosity. I arched an eyebrow, my hand automatically going to my own baton, when he added, “The tip of one.”

I felt a shiver run up my spine at the words. While the batons were intended to deliver a harsh electric shock, the device that generated the electric pulse on the tip was actually quite sharp. Getting scraped by one while it wasn’t charged was bad enough, and the scar it could leave was downright awful. But if it were charged? It was the focus point for the entire charge, which was strong enough to stop an organ, depending on where it was pointed. I stared at the red mark, wondering how many similar wounds my parents or Gerome had caused over the years.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It was silly to apologize—it wasn’t even my fault—but I still felt responsible. I should’ve known something was going on. I’d lived in the Citadel my entire life, and it felt wrong to have missed the Knights’ cruelty this entire time. And now it had hurt a friend of mine—almost killed him. And I had been a part of the system that was allowing it to happen.

Then Roark began rolling up the sleeve on his own right arm, revealing a long white mark. “That’s from when they came for my Selka,” he said. “I wasn’t inclined to let them take her.”

He picked up a jar full of pink cream that I recognized as a dermal bond, and began applying it to the skin with a long, thin spatula. “Normally, the dermal bond would heal the flesh and leave no scar, but the electrical charge cauterizes the edges.”

“Just like with burns,” I said, thinking about my time with the Medica, and a few of the burn victims who had been healed but still had wavy scars where the fire had scorched them.

“Exactly,” he said, smearing more pink goop into the wound. “You spent some time on Medica detail.”

“I did,” I replied. “Interdepartmental classes.”

Roark smiled and took a step back, revealing Grey, his face still pale and his jaw clenched. “That stuff always stings,” Grey grunted, slowly climbing to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”

“No, you’re not,” Roark said, crinkling his nose. “You’re filthy and hungry. Go take a shower and change, and we’ll have something to eat waiting for you.”

Grey shot an annoyed look at Roark. “And then bed?”

“And then talk and then bed.”

“Fine,” Grey grumbled. “I guess a shower and something clean would be wonderful.”

He left through a door at the back, and a moment later, I heard the hiss of a shower starting up. Roark moved about the room, pulling down various foodstuffs and arranging them on a plate. Some slices of brown bread, a few grapes, and a leaf of lettuce.

“Bah,” he said as he stared down at the motley assortment. “I was never any good as a homemaker.”

I moved deeper into the room to take a look, and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s not going to care,” I commented, and Roark’s frown deepened.

“I should go get him something else,” he said. “This isn’t a meal that really screams I just cheated death, you know?”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure whatever you eat just after that is going to taste amazing. So don’t worry about it.”

Roark placed the plate on the table with a clunk, and then looked at me. “I haven’t told you thank you yet, have I?”

I shifted, uncomfortable, but made the decision not to answer. I really hadn’t done this for thanks, and it made me uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be thanked for doing the right thing—we should all just... do it. Drawing attention to it meant that I had done something extraordinary, but I hadn’t.

“Well, thank you,” he said, his eyes studying me. “It means a lot that you’d risk yourself like this.”

“The risk isn’t over,” I pointed out. “And we’re all at risk. I mean, what’s your plan here? What are we going to do now? Sure, you’ve agreed to give me the pills, but that’s just a stopgap, and people are dying. The Knights are probably tearing apart that cell to find out if anything went wrong, and guess what—something did go wrong! It’s only a matter of time before they figure it out. Hopefully later, but with the number of prisoners I... heard down there... it won’t be long. If they catch us, we’re going right back into the cell.”

Roark went silent, and then dragged a chair out from the table. “Sit,” he ordered gently, moving away from it and taking the one on the opposite side. I sat down after a fraction of a second, and then looked at him expectantly.

“It’s good that you’re thinking of us as a ‘we,’” he said, “because at this point we are, and we’re all in it together.”

“Yes, but to what end? What purpose? What is your ultimate goal here?”

I knew I came off as a bit angry, but the truth was I was frustrated. My patience was almost gone, and I was scared and tired—a dangerous combination that always led to emotional outbursts.

For his part, Roark didn’t seem to mind my anger. In fact, his face looked almost vacant, lost in thought, and a bit sad. I leaned forward, concerned, but then his eyes flicked over to me and he began to speak.

“Her name was Selka,” he said, and then paused.

I bit back a sigh and leaned back. Why did everyone want to do this kind of storytelling with me, during which I had to participate and ask questions to coax the story forward? Why couldn’t anyone just be direct?

“She was my wife,” he continued, just as I was about to ask the question, and I quickly closed my mouth, my frustration fading somewhat as I remembered Grey’s words. “She wasn’t the most beautiful woman, but I didn’t marry her for that reason. She was fiery, passionate, ambitious... She started training at fifteen, was accepted into the department as a full Medic by