Archetype Read Online Free Page B

before?”
    I want to say something really mean, but I bite my tongue. I should not have to ask, should I? “I would like a mirror,” I say, though I understand I am pressing my luck. “Since we are discussing things I should ask for. I want to see my reflection.”
    The watered-down version I see in windows does nothing to appease my curiosity.
    Dr. Travista shifts in his chair. “I’m not sure you’re ready.”
    I do not understand this. Why would I not be ready? “Declan says I am not scarred and that I am still beautiful. Is there a reason why I should not look at myself?”
    Dr. Travista’s fingers tap over the rounded leather arm of his chair as he considers me thoughtfully. With a sigh, he then taps a few more commands into his tablet and hands it over.
    I reach for it hesitantly. Is it this easy? I watch him for some sign that he will change his mind, but he seems decided.
    I expect to see a photograph, but it appears he has activated a camera lens. I flinch in surprise when I find myself blinking at a woman’s heart-shaped face over a slim neck. It takes several seconds to realize those hazel eyes surrounded by thick black lashes are mine. My fingers shake when I touch my cheekbone, rounded, high, and pink. My lips are full, the lower just a bit more than the upper. My nose is small and round on the tip. I do not like this part of me, but I cannot complain. It is me.
    I move my hand over my dark hair. Lights overhead reflect over the silky texture, which angles perfectly against my chin line.
    “There is nothing wrong with me,” I say and note how my mouth quirks in a tilted smile and I speak mostly from that one side.
    “Of course not,” Dr. Travista says. “You’re perfect.”
    He says this with some considerable amount of pride. Maybe because the accident had scarred me and he fixed me.
    Dr. Travista allows me to hold on to the tablet for a while longer, asking his questions, and I answer as best I can while watching how my expressions shift with my thoughts. I see where I can hide things better. I am easy to read. I must work on this, but I do not know if this is because She wants this or I do.
    It cannot hurt to learn such a skill,
I tell myself, so with that, I practice schooling my expressions and watching them in the tablet’s screen.
    I learn fast.
     • • • 
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    The guard rushed toward the line and yanked my arm. His fingers bit into my skin and I yelped in pain.
    “Nothing!” I yelled.
    “Get back in line and keep your eyes forward,” he commanded. “I’m watching you, girl.”
    For several minutes, I stared at the mousy brown braid of the girl in front of me wearing a thinning gray jumper identical to mine. Every half minute, the line edged forward one step toward the showers.
    I clutched the thin black towel to my chest. I’d never had to shower with a group before. I didn’t want any of them seeing me without my clothes. I was embarrassed by the small mounds of breasts beginning to show on my chest, and . . . other things. Embarrassing things. I hated my body and feared I’d never look as nice as some of these other girls who were filled out and almost ready for their assignments. No one would take me if I stayed like this.
    The girl behind me tapped my shoulder. “What is the matter with you? Can’t you do anything right?”
    I started to turn my head to respond, but she stabbed me with a finger. “Don’t turn around.” She swore under her breath. “You have so much to learn.”
    “What do you mean?” I whispered.
    Mousy-haired girl shot a glare over her shoulder but didn’t say anything. I stuck my tongue out at her and she faced the front.
    The girl behind me was a few years older—four maybe. New to this facility, I didn’t know anyone’s name yet. I’d noticed her when we’d first lined up, instantly jealous of her auburn hair and woman’s figure.
    “It’s Wade, isn’t it?” Before I could respond, she said,