Chapter Twelve

“Hello Claire.” The woman said cheerfully standing over her constrained body.

“Wh-who are you?” Claire asked nervously trying to adjust her head to see more, only resulting in the leather straps rubbing against her head.

“Don’t panic.” The woman said with a smile.

“I can’t.” Claire said nervously.

“Bring back memories?” The woman said moving to her side.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“Who is the one that is helpless here? I ask the questions.” The woman said shaking her finger as if she was scolding a child.

“But-are you going to hurt me?” Claire asked starting to tear up.

“Maybe I won’t have to.” The woman said sounding hopeful.

“Are you a fed?” The helpless teenager asked.

“Fed?” The woman asked innocently.

“Federal agent.” Claire said still trying to move as much as possible. The thick leather straps were old and as rough as sandpaper. Her binds were slowly starting to tear her skin when she was squirming on the table.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The woman suggested.

“What do you want?” Claire screamed in frustration.

“Answers, my life back.” The woman said matter-of-factly.

“Who are you?” Claire asked curiously.

“Someone very familiar.”

“What?” Claire said taking a look at her captor. The face was not familiar and was very rough and scarred. Her eyes were icy blue. “Wait! This isn’t possible!” Claire was talking to an older version of herself.

“I am breaking many rules doing this. I think I know how to stop this. In my reality I cannot do it, because it has happened. But you, you still have a future.”

“Who are you?” Claire asked, finally giving into the fact that she was trapped.

“Claire.” The woman said frustrated. “I am you, from the future.”

“The war?”

“We lose. Millions of innocent lives are lost.” The older version of herself said.

“What do I need to do?” Claire said accepting what she saw as the truth.

“It’s Tayla.”

“What about her?”

“She’s a traitor. Neutralize her.”

“Like kill her?”

“Unless you want to hold her hostage for another five years in this dump.” The other Claire said emotionlessly.

“What happened to you? Well, me?”

“At the beginning of the war, there is an explosion that gave me this scar.” She said pointing at one that started on the left side of her forehead and trailed to her lower right cheek.

“How old are you?” Claire asked nervously.

“Thirty. I know I look at least fifty, but the Traveling aged me very quickly.”

“I will do it.” Claire said submissively.

“Do it for us.” The older version of herself said loosening her bindings.