June 7, 2098.

He chokes and gargles on his own blood, a thick line of scarlet coming from the corner of his mouth. Eyes once a bright black, become dull and starless. I watch from inside my own head as HER--my--hands leave his neck, dropping a blade of glass, smeared with his life.

I scream and scream, but she doesn't listen to me, or doesn't think to care. I feel my mouth tugging into a tight smirk, as She decides to swipe her finger along her creation of death and lick the blood.

Then came the high-pitched sirens, and our feet running. Running away with death in our wake. She will not be caught. No, no--

A heavy weight lands on our back. The metal click of handcuffs. The shoving of my head into the police car. Red and blue. Then a rattling, like keys hitting metal...

"Hey, rat."

A burly voice snaps me awake from my sleep. I lift my head from the cold, dirty floor of my prison cell to see the guard, jingling his keys as they hand right on his belt. A rotten smell hits my nose; I highly doubt this guy took a shower since I've been locked up.

I inhale the foul stench of him, and put myself in a seating position. My chains dangle in front of me. I've had these on me ever since I was taken into custody. Cuffs on my wrists, ankles. Three foot chains linking them together.

As if I would ever escape.

But she would make me escape. Nesryn, she calls herself. Pronounced Nez-Rin. With her rage and strength, she can easily knock out the guard and we run. But she's been silent. Watching in her little room inside my head. Feet kicked up on the coffee table.

"You got visitors." he says with surprise. "Parents."

"Yeah, they did bring me into this world." I reply dryly. "Through the ways of procreation, a messy and wild process--"

"Come on up so you can meet them in the Visiting Room."

I do as he says by standing, hearing the shift of cartilage inside my legs and arms. I haven't moved in two days. Just laid on the cold floor, five feet away from the bucket and the hard metal cot. My facility and my bed. At least the pillow is soft.

I walk my way to the bars as he unlocks my jail cell, opening the door for me to walk. But that is short-lived. To further his safety in case I go savage, he attaches an electric collar to my neck. Standard for Kolian when they're too high of danger level.

An automated voice says my inmate number and my danger level out loud: 65327. Danger level 9. The worst level there is.

There is a danger level for anyone who's infected with the Kolian. If you're at a one, then you're mostly used to destroyed property or causing robberies. From petty theft, robberies, assault, vandalism, then straight up murder. Which is number nine.

And I've watched enough crime shows and documentaries, that when you get a first taste of a kill, it's only a matter of time until the urge grows again.

For level nines, they are mandated to have a collar on. It senses the chemical change in our brain, if the Kolian comes around. When the alternate personality appears, a shock is sent throughout our body. From small to large enough to bring one to unconsciousness.

It makes it degrading by attaching a metal chain for someone to walk us. Like a dog. And I haven't had time to lick my wounds with this arrest and then seeing my parents later today.

I think they'll never see me the same way anymore. They'll see as a killer. Not a daughter they've known and loved.

____

The Kolian have been around for over thirty years. Patient Zero recently came into the emergency room, complaining of headaches, blackouts, fever, and rambling about having a alternate personality. After a few regular tests and a MRI, they had discovered it in the brain. A highly deadly disease with no known cure. Only painkillers for headaches, and antivirals for the fevers to break.

How it spread to me, you may wonder? Other people had also developed the same condition, including my paternal great-great grandmother. And in ways of high school genetics, there is a dominant carrier and a recessive carrier. And the offspring has a chance of getting the disease.

My great grandmother and grandfather had the abnormal gene for this infection. My father was autosomal dominant. Meaning if I inherit the gene from one abnormal gene carrying parent, I get the disease.

And lo and behold, I have it. And for years I've only suffered the headaches and minor blackouts. Until now.

Now I have the blood of an innocent man on my hands. And Nesryn won't tell me, if he really was innocent to begin with.

So am I truly guilty, or am I innocent in what I have done to survive?

_____

"Jade, honey, what have they done to you?"

Mom's voice rings out in the visiting, earning her a shush from the officer. Other inmates and families look at her in disbelief, then at me in fear. She is practically running in her black pumps, which I know cost her a fortune. I make a few steps to her, eyes already raining tears until a sharp tug of my leash keeps me in place.

Jerk.

"Mom, can you tell this guy I won't hurt you or Dad?" I say through a cough.

"She's just a child, I know my baby. She wouldn't do anything to me." Mom says to the officer holding my leash. "Unleash her. I'll keep good watch of her."

Five feet ahead of me, I see the undeniable shadow of my father. Ever since he found out that I was positive for the Kolian, he's done whatever he could to keep his distance from me. Even though it's his fault. He was the carrier, and mom carried a recessive gene.

A small headache sprouts on the crown of my head, and I hiss through my teeth. No. No, please, Nesryn. No.

I can tell you hate Him for making me come around. Don't you want to show him what I'm made of?

Never. Mom is trying to convince the guard to give me some freedom. Don't ruin it by taking over. And you're just a mix of random chemicals to be a personality.

AnD yOu'Re JuSt A mIx Of RaNdOm ChEmIcAlS. Come on, pretty please.

I'm surprised you decide now to speak after days of silence. You blocked my memory of that murder. Only the end of it. Are you going to tell me why you did it?

Nope. For now. She laughs, a horrible evil-villain laugh that makes me shiver.

"Sweetie, the leash is off." Mom says, and I'm now aware she has her hands on my face. Whenever I talk to Nesryn, I space out. And I'm glad Mom's voice cut through the fog. Her hands still carry the sweet ginger and lemon zest of her lotion-scent I've known as a baby. Thumbs pressing on to my cheekbones like she does to make me smile.

Her eyes, a deep brown, peer into my green with such worry in the middle of the room. She's scared for me, why this happened to her daughter. Her little gemstone.

"I wanna see Dad." I say.

Mom's face falls into a tight frown. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Please, I want to know how he is, in news of... you know." I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, nervous. "The m word."

"..." After a small silence, she quietly nods, and we walk together to the room where Dad is. As Mom opens the door, I'm surprised to see how calm he looks. He is leaning back in a metal chair, nursing a hot cup of coffee. The scruff on his face is new, as if he hasn't shaved in weeks.

"Hi daddy." I've only said daddy when I was a kid, when I wanted to get a new toy or ice cream from the special place on 5th street. He looks up at me, quiet. There's a buzz of the lights, and he sets his cup down on the table.

"Hey, murderer."