Read Archetype for Free Online

glances across his face but does not touch his eyes. “Once upon a time, she might have been.”
    “What is her name?” He clearly still cares for her despite his somber mood.
    “Her name was Jodi.”
    “Was?”
    “She’s gone now. Has been for more than twenty years.”
    “Oh, I am sorry. I should not have pried.”
    He waves me off. “It’s been a long time, Emma. Let’s get back to you, shall we? How do you feel?”
    “I am well.”
    He leans into one side of his chair, a hand tapping a quick rhythm over his knee. “Exercise seems to agree with you. You’re very relaxed these days.”
    I shrug and return to the books with names that I can only guess refer to researching the body and all its parts. He has a particular interest in the brain and memory and, according to the bindings, has authored a few himself. “I like running.”
    Dr. Travista is silent a long time, but I can almost feel him watching me. Always observing me. Always waiting to see what I will do next. I believe he is waiting for me to elaborate. He will be waiting a long time.
    Finally, he says, “Do you like to read, Emma?”
    I turn to catch him making notes in his computer tablet. This question has surprised me because I do not know the answer and I should. “I do not know.”
    He barely glances my way, still typing in his notes. “Is there anything you would like to read?”
    “I do not know,” I say again and then turn fully to face him. “Why do I not know this? Should I not know what I like to read? If I read at all?”
    Dr. Travista removes his glasses and nibbles on the end. “In time, maybe. You had a serious accident. All of this will take time.”
    “What kind of accident?” I ask.
    “That answer, too, will come in time.”
    I clench my teeth and breathe slowly in, then out of my nose. “Will it never be the time of my choosing?”
    “In time,” he repeats and taps something else into the tablet.
    I turn away to hide my annoyance. When I trust my voice not to quiver, I say, “You choose.”
    “Choose what?”
    I stare blindly at gold letters and soft black covers. “The book. We will find out what I like.”
    No classics,
She says.
    “A classic,” I say.
    Because you’d rather sleep than read?
She says in a dry tone.
Don’t be so difficult.
    “Never mind,” I say grudgingly. “No classics.”
    “No classics,” Dr. Travista repeats. “Any other instructions?”
    I wait for Her to tell me, but She is silent. “No.”
    “Then I shall have a few options sent to your room.”
    I walk to the window now, and cold seeps through the panes. A light layer of snow coats the parking lot. No footprints mar the perfection, so the fall must be recent. “It snowed,” I say.
    “Yes. A couple of hours ago. Do you remember snow?”
    I press my fingertips to the cold glass. My breath fogs the surface, obscuring my vision. My answer sits behind a sudden lump in my throat.
Oh yes.
I remember.
     • • • 
    I shivered in the courtyard, my feet buried in snow. My slippers did nothing to protect them from the icy feel, and my toes had long ago gone numb.
    Victor Porch, the captain of the guard, paced in front of us, his dark eyes narrowed and his hands clasped behind his back. Unlike the large group of girls he looked at, he wore a fur-lined coat and boots.
    “One of you,” he started, his voice startling me with its thunderous nature, “has decided that our rules are not to her liking.”
    My body went rigid. They knew what I did. How did they know?
    “What is our number one rule?”
    The group around me answered in unison. “Do not leave the compound.”
    I sighed in relief. Not me. Definitely not me. I fingered the indigo petals in my smock pocket and decided I would bury the flower tonight before they did catch me. What number was the rule for stealing? Four? Five? Regardless, a bloody whipping and a week of solitary confinement.
    “That’s right,” Captain Porch said. “And we haven’t had any violators of