Flesh Failure by Sèphera Girón Page A

were the townsfolk.
    We returned to London and his flat.
    He sat and looked at the pile of money we’d made, spread along the table, and then looked at me.
    â€œThere were a lot of expenses on that trip,” he said. “I’m going to have to calculate these expenses before we can divide up the money.”
    â€œWe will divide up the money,” I said. “Today.”
    I stood up menacingly and a red flush covered his cheeks.
    â€œYes, Agatha.”
    He began to create piles with the money.
    â€œNow that we’ve done our first tour, you need to tell me about my creator. You promised to share with me the story.”
    â€œWhat do you want to know?”
    I sighed with impatience, my hands tapping the table firmly.
    â€œWho is he? Where is he?”
    â€œI won’t tell you his name. He was like a brother to me.”
    â€œWas?”
    â€œHe’s disappeared. A while back. No one has seen him.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œAfter we buried you, we parted ways, vowing to never speak of our deed. Not the burial in the park. Not the experiment itself.”
    â€œExperiment.”
    â€œI’m sorry but that’s what you are.”
    â€œWho am I?”
    â€œAgatha.”
    â€œWas Agatha someone before I was this?”
    â€œI really don’t know. He never shared with me where he found the parts and I never asked him. I felt it best.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze and his words were faltering. I knew he was lying, yet again.
    â€œI have memories of various events. Perhaps even from childhood. Was I a student at the university? My brain, I mean?”
    He stopped sorting the coins for a moment. He looked at me carefully.
    â€œI don’t know but I had my suspicions about your brain. I went through the hospital records and found an admittance of a young university girl. She had been lacerated at the neck and her reproductive organs had been displayed alongside her body. As she was from a wealthy family, her case was never related to the papers.”
    â€œThe Ripper?”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    â€œHow long ago?”
    â€œOver a year now, I would say.”
    â€œShe was the daughter of wealthy parents.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWas her name Agatha?”
    He resumed counting the coins quickly.
    â€œYes, it was.”
    â€œBut you should remember her last name too?”
    â€œI’m sorry…” he said.
    â€œSo Agatha was…is…my brain. I wonder if any of this is my…Agatha’s body?”
    For several minutes, I said nothing as I watched him count out the money.
    Was I the original Agatha because I had her brain or was I someone else now even though I had snatches of her memory?
    There were so many little coins that it made the process lengthy for what was likely a little. But every piece of metal that was on that table was a piece of metal that I never had before. I didn’t have to predict the future in doorways or straddle a stranger like Charlotte. All I had to do was sit in a chair.
    â€œAgatha. Do you remember the last name?” I tried again.
    â€œNo,” he said impatiently.
    â€œBut she was a university student.”
    â€œIn medicine.”
    â€œI wonder how she met the Ripper?”
    He shook his head.
    I stared at him, hoping a wave of intuition would sweep through me and I could pluck the names I needed from his brain. But I couldn’t. He hid his secrets well.
    â€œYou must tell me the name of my creator,” I insisted.
    â€œI explained that I can’t.”
    I jumped over the table and grabbed him by the throat.
    â€œHis name,” I said. “I want his name.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll tell you. It’s Laurence Polidori.”
    At last, the name was finally out in the air. If it was the correct name. However, by the way his eyes bulged beneath my clutch, I was certain he spoke the truth this time.
    â€œI’ve seen his name on a plaque, have I