Peter Goltz's reaction

The tight regatta shirt and snug jeans highlighted her bust, buttocks, and the muscles of her calves and thighs. Squeezed into her teenage clothes, the fabric stretched to its limit, Karen gave the impression of being more toned than Sara Martins had ever been.

She greeted her parents, who received her in astonishment. Especially Peter Goltz, flushed and visibly stunned as he touched his daughter’s dark cheeks. He remained cold throughout the reunion and acted as if he were detached from the achievement in which he had invested so much effort. Wasn’t he happy for her? Karen smiled radiantly, the white of her teeth contrasting sharply with the blackness of her skin. Sulking, Peter left mother and daughter to exchange confidences in private.

“Dr. Anoka. A word. About the body my daughter was placed in…”

“I will send you and your wife a copy of the report, Senator Goltz. We discussed this beforehand, remember?”

“Yes, yes. The woman whose body my daughter now inhabits will remain under our care…?”

“Exactly. You remain responsible for the young woman registered under the name Karen Goltz. You must provide all necessary assistance to the woman who agreed to collaborate in the experiment.”

“So I will have to continue funding the treatment required for the well-being of a tetraplegic person? Food, caregivers, therapy…”

“That’s right. It will be like having a permanent guest at home. But look on the bright side: she is your daughter only on paper. These are purely contractual ties, with no emotional bonds involved.”

“It was very exhausting to see my daughter suffering day after day.”

“The nightmare is over. It will be strange at first, but you’ll get used to it soon. I suggest you delegate the entire burden to an employee.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite understand.”

“An employee, or more than one, I don’t know — someone to supervise the paralytic. That could spare you from having to see Karen’s old vessel and…”

“Negative, doctor. I have an eternal debt of gratitude to this woman. Thanks to her, Karen can enjoy life again. I will supervise her personally. It’s a matter of honor.”

***

A matter of honor.

“Has she already been transferred to the room?”

“With every care, Mr. Goltz.”

“Don’t let anyone but me enter, understood?”

“But if Mrs.… ”

“I’ve already spoken with my wife. She left the matter in my hands. You may go now, Demian. I will give you new instructions later. Dismissed.”

Peter Goltz waited for the servant to move away down the corridor. He entered the room with minimal noise. He didn’t want to disturb the woman’s light sleep. Not yet. He admired the placid face of his teenage daughter. She had lost muscle mass, but thanks to specialist supervision and physiotherapy sessions, her limbs had not atrophied. The special wheelchair looked like a mobile dentist’s chair. It was more practical and could be adjusted at will: armchair, divan, or bed in a single piece of equipment. Peter knew that when those eyes opened, nothing would be the same. In silence, the senator mentally reviewed everything that had happened two years earlier. The offense. How could he forget it? How could he forgive it?

She woke up. The nausea had returned — a nausea without a stomach. The memory of her degradation opened like a trapdoor. She was Alice in free fall down the rabbit hole: her body, weight suspended in the air, had no other function than to attest to the existence of gravity and drag idle thoughts along with it. It was absolutely useless to be officially a young white blonde if the body was not at her disposal! They had brought her to a different room, more welcoming, it was true, as it showed signs of regular habitation. It was not like those impersonal hotel rooms, stripped of aura and soul. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a figure behind her, casting a shadow. She deduced she was facing away from the window and wondered whether it was better to take the initiative or wait for the other person to speak first.

“You’re already awake, aren’t you? Welcome to your new home, Sara Martins.” He moved away from the window.

“You…” Karen’s youthful face contorted into a grimace of horror as she recognized the voice.

“Or would you prefer to be called Rosa of Alexandria?” The man positioned himself in front of the paralytic.

“You…” The expression of horror gradually gave way to an incredulous desolation.

“It’s good to see you too. You’ve always been a charming woman, but today you look especially rejuvenated. Seriously, I’d say at least twenty years younger.” Peter smiled, pleased with his macabre gallantry.

“So that’s it? Who orchestrated all this filth was…”

“Destiny. I swear. I was equally surprised.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Come on, darling, trust me. Believe in Daddy, he only wants what’s best for you.”

“Daddy? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Listen carefully. I want to give you the chance to choose how you will be treated from now on.”

“I’m not your little toy.”

“No, you’re not. You are my beloved daughter. See these limbs?” Peter took Karen’s wrist and raised it to Sara’s line of sight. “I’ll bring a large mirror from another room in the house and then you’ll contemplate the beauty I created for eighteen years.”

“You wretch! Is this girl another one of your victims?”

“Wretch? Me? On the contrary! My daughter, my blood, my blessed sperm!” Peter seemed beside himself. “Listen. Assume the identity of my daughter, the sweet Karen—” Peter held her chin and caressed the young woman’s rosy cheek with his thumb “—show respect and gratitude to your old father; or else—” he slid the side of his free hand along the thin thigh, heading toward the hidden slit, without daring to grab the tender adolescent flesh with his eager fingers “—insist on defying me, persist in the identity of Sara, the willful one. At your own risk. So, how will it be?”

Sara, her gaze fixed on the animalistic expression the senator’s face was increasingly acquiring, knew nothing of the wandering hand’s incursion. She couldn’t know, since more than half her body had lost sensation. Would she have made a different choice if she could at least sense what her spontaneous answer would unleash?

“I demand my body back!”

“Your name, tell me your name!”

“Sara, my name is Sara!” she shouted. Karen’s shrill voice was muffled by the acoustic walls that sealed the room from the outside world, preventing the sound from spreading.

“Yes, you like to challenge me!”

“Please… for… what… what do you want from me? Let me… I… I’ll do… whatever you want… just… give me back… my… my… body—” she burst into tears. None of this made sense. If she were in full control of herself and in possession of her own body, she would never have shown weakness in the face of more or less misogynistic intimidation. It wasn’t the first time she had been cornered and forced to directly confront the abusive and sordid behavior of male figures. But this time it was different. Run? Fight? She couldn’t even resist! She was exiled from her own body and floating adrift, clinging to a name — Sara — a fragile wreck, a life raft that kept her afloat in that sea of madness.

“I don’t want anything, Sara. Just company.” His eyes were clouded, lost in reverie. “With Karen’s departure, I became lonely and… unencumbered.” Without adding another word or gesture, he turned and left the room, leaving Sara behind in silence and desolation.

Stunned by the sudden exit, Sara remained motionless. Her crying gradually subsided as she stared absently at Karen’s nearly flat chest rising and falling with the tireless work of her lungs. If she breathed in deeply and with all her strength, she was granted the pale illusion of control. The movement of her ribcage seemed to obey her commands, albeit indirectly, but it obeyed. In her eagerness to empty her mind, she surrendered for a few seconds to the pure pleasure of inhaling and exhaling. Did she feel better? She would certainly feel better if she could wipe her face, blow her runny nose after so many tears, and remove the sensation of dried salty liquid stuck to her skin. But all of that was impossible and, because she could not erase the traces of crying, she began to cry again.