"Whatever you are, I know how you think," Zo said. "Because you think like Lia. Which means you can't fool me."
I stuffed some clothes into a bag. Not my favorites, just whatever was lying on top of the pile. I was supposed to be starting a new life, creating a new identity. Which meant my old favorites were irrelevant.
"You're running away," Zo said.
"What clued you in?" I muttered, even though I'd promised myself I wouldn't engage. Also not needed in the bag or in the new life: My track trophies. The dried petals from the rose Walker gave me after our first breakup and makeup. The stuffed tiger that had belonged to my mother and my grandmother when they were children, that I had never actually slept with myself because it smelled. The book, an actual paper book, Auden had found in his attic and given to me, because he liked that kind of thing and so I pretended to, something called Galapagos. I hadn't read it, partly because I was afraid of breaking it and partly because it looked boring. Still, it had meant something to me, because it had meant something to him. Not anymore. I didn't need any of it, I realized. Or at least, I shouldn't. I shouldn't have come home at all.
"This is going to kill Mom and Dad," Zo said. "Did you think about that?"
I dropped the bag, kicked it under the bed. I could get new clothes. Wasn't that the point? New everything. "You're the one who said I should disappear. That everyone would be happier that way."
Zo shifted her weight and started rubbing her thumb back and forth across the knuckles of her other hand. The way she did when she was uncomfortable. Or embarrassed. "If this is about all that stuff I said...Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you-you know. Leave."
"Not everything's about you."
Zo gave me a weak smile. "Isn't that usually my line?"
It was tempting to believe that was the beginning of something, that the smile was some sign of weakness-or forgiveness. An indication that maybe we could be sisters again, like we used to be.
Nothing is like it used to be, I reminded myself. I wasn't going to forget that again.
"I have to go."
"Don't," Zo said. She hopped off the bed, but stayed where she was, safely across the room from me.
"Mom and Dad will get over it. They have you."
Zo shook her head, rubbed at her eye with the back of her hand, like a little kid, furious that her body would betray her. "Like that's ever been good enough."
I shrugged. "It'll have to be."
"Where will you even go?" she asked, being very careful not to sound like she cared.
"Somewhere." And I made it clear that I didn't care either.
"You're being an idiot," she said. "This is stupid."
"Because you want me to stay?" I asked, surprised. On guard. I'd made a decision-I was going to stick to it. I had to.
Zo stared at the floor.
"Tell me to stay," I said.
But Zo didn't say anything.
"Better yet, tell me I'm your sister. Lia. And you want me here." I waited in the doorway, waited for her to speak, waited to be ready to leave behind the room I had lived in since I was three years old. "Tell me all that, and maybe I can stay."
Zo finally looked up.
"Tell me I'm your sister," I said again, aware that I was begging. I didn't care anymore. I needed her to say it. I needed to hear it.
Maybe it would even be enough to make me stay.
"I'm sorry," she said.
The doorway was wide enough that when she walked out of the room, we didn't even touch.
It's not that I bought into Jude's bullshit.
Not all of it, at least.
And it's not that I was so eager to move into Quinn's creepy castle and start painting my face silver and dangling off the side of buildings just because I could. It's not that I wanted more face time with Jude, who obviously didn't care about anyone or anything.
Unlike me, who did.
That's what hurt.
I didn't leave because I was brave, ready to face the world on my own. I didn't leave as some great sacrifice, eager to cast off my happiness-not that there'd been much of that lately-for the greater good. I didn't leave because I was a coward, afraid to face what I'd done to Auden or what I could do next. I wasn't a coward.
I was tired.
Tired of being trapped in limbo, living as half one thing, half another, not quite anything at all. Not quite dead, not quite alive. Not an original, not a copy. Not human, not machine. Not myself-but who else was there?
I was tired of pretending that nothing had changed. That even with an artificial body and a computer for a brain, I was still the same person I'd been before.
Denial was exhausting. As was anger. Bargaining was useless. Depression was bottomless. I was tired of it all.
Which meant I was ready to accept it. The new reality of nonlife after nondeath. My new reality.
Lia Kahn is dead.
I am Lia Kahn.
Except, I finally realized, here's the thing.
Maybe I'm not.
end.