Call It Even
Rae tumbled to the floor, making it half way across the garage in the process. Time seemed to move funny for a few seconds, like a record skipping. Her stomach churned as everything she ever knew seemed to whip back past her awareness. She heaved once, twice, then finally succeeded in throwing up.
Eyes red and full of tears she glared up at the mechanical Violet, “H-how could you? Everything? All my memories…my memories! Th-that was…it was just…it was a…a…”
“Violation,” supplied Violet in a flat tone. Devoid of emotion as the one word was it struck home all the same. Rae could only flop back to lean against the nearest work bench, away from the smelly pool of what had been a light dinner. Inside she seethed with anger, a good portion directed at herself.
Still, she couldn’t resist tossing an acid-tipped, “I suppose you think you’re clever,” at Violet.
“What I suppose,” came the flat tone again, “is that we’re even…more or less.”