A tried to ignore it, but eventually he looked up. “B, that, it’s revolting.”

B’s wide eyes mimicked innocence. “Don’t you want some?” He held out two fingers dripping with jam and A flinched.

“Revolting.”

“L eats sweets all the time. He says they improve brain function. Maybe if you ate more you wouldn’t be slipping. We’re even, now. At this rate C will pass you soon.”

That was cruel. C was the Control, and his upbringing was normal by comparison. His test scores were only reference. “Wipe your face.”

B only smiled, his face red from nose to chin.


***


“Relaxing would be good for you.”

B was much too close, his breath ruffled A’s hair, and his tone was unpleasantly intimate. A wanted to scream, to tell him to get away, but he knew better. B delighted in confrontation, in provoking A to the point of hysteria. The last time had been particularly bad, ending in A being given a sedative injection and being on lockdown for three days, to avoid overexciting him. It hadn’t been the first time.

“I’m calm, B,” he said, and his voice hardly shook, hardly at all. “You needn’t concern yourself with my well-being.”



***


There would be no note.

A didn’t see the need. Every report he’d ever been assigned was note enough, every paper he’d written an explanation. He was not capable of reshaping himself in L’s image, and he had no image of his own to return to. It was unfortunate that it would be B who found him; A had no wish to bring him such joy.

Had he ever been his own person? He could no longer recall being anything but a letter, a designation.

In the end, it was by taking his life that he could finally claim it.