"I keep telling you all I feel fine. Dr. Vodola knows I'm fine. He just wants to imprison me."
Dr. Green glanced out the window before looking back at me.
"My hands are tied, Madeline."
"Now you know how my poor existence has felt like for nearly eighteen years."
"The board has agreed not to try to test your eggs until after you're eighteen."
"I don't even get a choice in the matter of becoming a mother." I spat. "I don't know why that surprises me. I'd pray for death, but I know it wouldn't prove much of a relief."
"Madeline, I'm running out of things to say." Dr. Green mumbled, his shoulders slumped over.
"I'm not asking for words." I started; my voice was soft. "I'm asking for the same right every other person seems to be granted except for me. I want the freedom to be able to live and to make my own choices. Suppose I want to have friends or go to a party like every other seventeen-year-old. I want to go to school without fear of someone peering over my shoulder or shouting obscenities at me just because I wasn't born from another person. I didn't ask for this life, but I'd like the chance to live it."
"And you deserve that."
I met his eyes briefly before he got up. I just sat there watching him walk out of the room. The door opened and closed quietly.
The light of my television lighted my room. Some cop show was on, but I wasn't entirely focused. It was about three friends; one was a lawyer, and the other two were cops. One friend was dealing with a problem with a kid. Where were cops like this when I was growing up? Then again, it didn't seem like I had the same complete rights as everyone else for protection. I was lying on my side with my head propped up with my hand. I had stayed in my pajamas all day, so I didn't have to change for bed.
The one friend was following a lead in an abandoned house at night. His partner went around back just in case the murderer tried to escape. The friend was tip-toeing up the stairs with his gun and flashlight held up. The red front door was open a crack. He nudges it free with his gun and flashlight. All the lights in the house were off. He moved his flashlight around, but there were pieces of furniture off to the side in the living room, and there was a six-person table off in the dining room. There weren't any pictures up on the walls. He moved through the dining room into the kitchen. There were a couple of pots on the stovetop with a wooden spoon resting on the countertop. He opened the door that led to stairs going down. The door squeaked as he opened it, but there weren't any signs of his partner.
He took one step at a time, and the light beam was straight down the stairs. There were boxes upon boxes everywhere his light landed. With a loud crash, the friend was tackled to the ground. My door opened at the same time. I let out a scream and sat up. My door was quickly closed, and the figure was silencing me. It didn't take long for the person to be standing over me with his hand over my mouth.
"It's me, Sawyer."
My heart was racing, and my chest was rising then falling rapidly.
Sawyer took his hand off my mouth and sat down next to me. The moonlight traced him, creating a silver outline of the person I had once known. His hair was cut a little shorter. He seemed a little broader, maybe a little taller as well. My hands went up to his face. Tiny prickles greeted the palms of my hands on his cheeks.
"What are you doing here?" my voice was faint.
He pushed some hair behind my ear.
"I saw your latest press conference, and I needed to see you." Sawyer's voice was more profound than the last time I saw him, only a little, but I could still recognize that voice. "I needed to see how you were doing. I'm prepared to take you with me to Boston if I need to."
"Your dad won't allow that."
"I could give a rat's ass about my dad. I need you to be safe."
My head was spinning with a million different thoughts, but each one seemed to push and shove each other to come out first. My hands stroked his face. My eyes scanned his hair, his eyes, and every bit of him. I wanted to imprint every part of him into my brain. The Sawyer in front of me wasn't real. I would wake up, and he would be gone. It wouldn't be the first time that I dreamed of Sawyer.
"Madeline-" he started but stopped as I placed my fingers against his lips.
"Shhh," I whispered. "Let us not talk about my dad. Let us, please enjoy this moment. I'm not ready to wake from this."
A smile spread across Sawyer's face. My insides fluttered. Sawyer leaned forward so that his forehead touched mine, and I closed my eyes and held my breath.
"This isn't a dream." Sawyer's voice was as
