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I had to stop and take a deep breath to avoid saying more. My chest was tight, my emotions right at the surface. I hadn’t heard my mother’s voice in my head that clearly in a long time. It only reminded me of her utter rejection of me, not just as her daughter but as a person. Even knowing what a terrible person she was and how horrified my father would’ve been at what she’d become, a mother’s words still had the ability to cut deeper than anyone else’s.

Polly tutted, oblivious to my thoughts. “Sounds like a barbarous place. But you’re not one of them, sweet pea, you’re one of us. And I’m going to make sure you look like it. Of course, we’ll have to remove all of that nasty hair.”

She gestured at the fine, blonde hair on my legs. Before the Cave was destroyed, I’d permanently removed my underarm hair with the same cream that had comically fixed John’s hair in its now-permanent style. However, I’d never done my legs because it cost a lot of credits. John had been perplexed when he discovered my hairless underarms, and seemed utterly unperturbed by the rest of my body hair. No one else at home even noticed, so I didn’t bother to remove it anymore.

Another stab of longing hit me, because he’d loved me as I was. He thought I was beautiful. I pushed down the warm memories of him and the harsher ones of my mother, because I wasn’t going to break down in front of this horrible woman. She wasn’t worth that, and my entire focus had to be on surviving this nightmare.

“If you were a regular client, I’d recommend you go under the knife or get injectables,” Polly continued as though discussing the weather. “But because we’re on a limited timeline, and you have an already established look with the public, we’ll settle for wardrobe and makeup, and waxing every inch of you.”

It was a painful, frustrating process, and when it was over, I felt thoroughly poked and prodded and violated. I ended up in a long, silky, champagne-coloured dress that felt entirely too formal for the dinner I was meant to attend with Julius. Still, I didn’t complain as Polly swept my hair into a twist she said was the latest fashion. I’d seen the generated version of Claire wearing it, so there must be some truth to it.

“Now, you look like one of us again,” Polly trilled, too loud, by my ear. She patted my cheek in a patronizing way that made me want to snap at her. “Not like a Wastelander rat.”

That’s what she, and everyone else here, thinks of your family. No better than trash. And once upon a time, you would’ve gone along with it.

“Get out,” I said coldly, pointing at the door. “Now.”

“There’s no need for that,” she grumbled. I’m just trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Get the fuck out,” I spat, shoving her when she reached out to touch me again. “And if you ever speak to me about Wastelanders like that again, I will make it my personal mission to ruin you.”

She opened her mouth in outrage, about to argue, but at that moment, Major Hamilton appeared in the doorway.

“Everything alright?” he asked, looking between me and the angry stylist.

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Polly’s just leaving.”

To my surprise, Hamilton merely nodded without further questioning. “Good. I’ll escort you out, ma’am.”

His tone was polite but firm, and Polly made a sound of outrage. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, and she huffed before striding towards the door, away from me.

“Careful, Major,” she said to him on the way out. “The Sole Survivor’s a Wastelander sympathizer. The Sire won’t be pleased about that at all.”

Hamilton’s hand closed around her bony wrist. “Enough. It’s time for you to leave, Mrs. Holiday.”

With a final huff, she followed him down the corridor and out of sight. I let out the breath I’d been holding without meaning to. Anger pounded inside me with the rapid beat of my heart, but as I lowered myself onto the chaise in the sitting area of the master suite, I realized that not all of it was directed at the stylist. In fact, most of it was at myself.

Perhaps I’d never been quite as virulently hateful toward Wastelanders as Polly…most of what I had felt back then was deep, paralyzing fear, which then manifested as distrust and hostility toward John when we first met. I had treated him horribly at first, even if I didn’t realize at the time how much it affected him. Shame bubbled in my stomach—shame that I’d felt many times since then, but it never totally went away. I’d always regret how I behaved those first few weeks I’d known him and Kimmy.

I knew what John would say, because he’d said it before: Baby, I forgave you long before today. You were lied to and manipulated your whole life, and you’d lost everything you knew all at once. You came around once you realized you were safe with me. That’s what counts. And he’d kissed my knuckles and asked me to stop tormenting myself, though I’d never been very good at that.

I thought back to the leaflets given to me on Wastelanders had depicted them as vicious cannibals—the basis for my fear. It hadn’t helped that my first encounter with people on the outside had indeed been cannibals. Not for the first time, I wondered how those roving gangs of maneaters came to be, when the majority of Wastelanders were still regular people. The maneaters had lost their humanity in a way the rest hadn’t, and no one I’d ever asked seemed to know why. It didn’t seem possible over the span of only a generation, but I’d also witnessed many things that didn’t seem possible to me at the time.

“You can’t do that again.”

Major Hamilton came inside the suite and shut the door, then folded his arms across his chest.

“Do what?” I asked, though I knew.

“Explode at one of the Sire’s people,” he said, frustrated. “And talk about Wastelanders like that, out in the open. She’s right; you’re going to be labeled as a sympathizer. The Sole Survivor doesn’t do that, and people are expecting the woman they’ve put their faith in the last year.”

I laughed bitterly. “She and I have nothing in common, then, and you should’ve considered that before you kidnapped me off that beach.”

“I followed the orders I was given,” he shot back. “Just like you’re going to have to. We don’t have to like the orders, but we don’t get to ignore them.”

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” I asked wearily.

He got quiet for a moment, leaning against the door.