💥𝒢𝑜𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒹𝑜𝓂💥 [𝒳-𝑀𝑒𝓃]

Chapter 3: Voices in My Head

"No one ever told me that grief feels so like fear."

- C.S. Lewis

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Elizabeth Grace's POV

I can't say I sleep very well. Multiple times, my dreams are plagued by nightmares about my mum. Each time, Mr. Erik wakes up to soothe me, ease my nightmare, and get me to go back to sleep—almost like a father soothing his baby.

When I actually wake up in the morning, the first thing I see is my brown hair laying in my eyes. Pushing it out of the way, I see Mr. Erik. I notice at some point during the night he gave up and is now sitting on the other end of the sofa. He wakes up as I shift my weight on the sofa. He looks down at me and smiles.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he says.

"Good morning, Mr. Erik," I reply.

"At least you woke up peacefully this time," he laughs. "And you don't have to call me mister, Elizabeth."

"Dad always says..." I stop dead in the middle of my sentence. Dad. I didn't even think about dad. "My dad is probably looking for me. He's probably scared. I have to-"

"Hey. Hey. It's alright. I will get you back to your father, but I need to make sure everything is alright first. I need to know that you're out of danger first."

"O-ok. But when-"

"Soon. Don't worry. Please, trust me. I will make sure you are reunited with your father soon."

Erik's POV

I have no genuine idea if they're looking for either of us or not. If they are, we're both in danger. I can take care of myself, but Elizabeth is so young. I'm not sure she would be able to defend herself yet.

Elizabeth has stayed with me for about a week at this point. The longer she's been here, the more I've been able to see what she can do. She's quite an incredible little girl.

This doesn't even mention how intelligent she is. She can't be any older than three, and it is as her mind is that of probably a typical seven or eight year old. She can comprehend so much that she shouldn't be able to. It amazes me.

Of course, most would say her accent makes her sound even more intelligent though it is simply how she speaks. Oddly enough, from the few words I heard her speak, her mother sounded as if she had a northern American accent. This is not how Elizabeth sounds. I'm assuming her father must be English as this is the accent she bears.

Each night she's had night terrors, and each night I've woken up to comfort her. Her abilities seem to project her dreams into my mind. I am able to see the same horrors she does. Her mother's lifeless eyes seem to stare into her soul. In some of the terrors, the bullet has even struck her. She watches again and again and again the death of the one who raised her and the horrors of a potentially torturous future she fears because she is like me—different. Nightmare may not even be a strong enough word for the images in her head... much like the ones in my own. I know the empty yet writhing feeling in my chest that she's feeling right now. No one should be forced to go through what either of us has.

The vision of her staring into my eyes with tears in her own will never leave me as long as I live. Elizabeth was trembling when she awoke. She clung to me as if her life depended on it. In her mind, it may very well depend on it.

"I'm... s-s-scared," she whimpers with a breaking voice as small as a mouse cowering for a prowling cat.

Of course, I've also seen how destructive her powers can be—not just to others—but to herself. There's been more than one occasion in which I've watched her fall to her knees, covering her ears. She often looks up at me with terrified, misty eyes.

"It's so loud..." she tells me. "There are so many."

"The voices?" I ask.

I never know what to do. Elizabeth hears the thoughts of everyone around—the good, bad, and the absolutely horrible. The things that plague her mind are destructive, drastic, and violent. She either is able to control it or ends up passing out. Either way, I hold her until it stops. It's frightening for me, and I can't even hear the voices.

I've been back to the facility each day to find out where we stand. I caused a disruption in the camera system, so they will not be able to identify us that way. It's complete chaos here. I haven't seen her father, but it does appear—from what I've been able to hear around the facility—that he is searching for her. This poor man has lost his wife, and his daughter is missing.

After a week of surveillance, I have found that Elizabeth seems to be out of danger. I'm unsure of my own safety, but I'm not quite as concerned about that. I believe it should be safe enough to attempt to return this child to her father.

It's kind of sad. I've admittedly grown accustomed to having someone else around. I've been alone for a very long time. Elizabeth is so kind and is able to understand me like no one else has. Her presence is one I never realized I needed—one that is gentle and compassionate. She's only been with me about a week, but, in a way, it's felt like during that time she's been my own daughter. It will be quite sad for me to have to see her go.

"Elizabeth," I say, gently shaking the small child to wake her. Her eyes flutter open as she looks groggily up at me. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning," she replies, yawning.

"I think everything is safe enough. I should be able to get you back to your father."

Excitement fills her eyes. She's surely awake now. It's clear how much this little girl loves her father. She speaks very highly of him.

"Are you safe?"

I'm honestly touched by her question. In the midst of all of this, her concerns focus on me. I can't say I remember the last time that's happened to me.

"I'm not sure, but I'll be ok. What matters now is that I get you back to your family."

"I can find him."

"What?"

"My dad. I can find him. He can hear me."

Elizabeth taps her temple to explain what she's talking about. She can speak to her father with her abilities. That would make perfect sense.

"I see. Well, how about we get you something to eat for breakfast. Afterward, you can contact him, and I'll take you to him."

"But what if they see you?"

"I'll be ok, sweetheart."

"I don't want them to hurt you."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I can get to him."

After a bit of debate, we decide that I'll take her far enough to not be seen. Her father will be in the area. I will remain in the shadows as to remain unseen. She will let me know as soon as she's found him... and she'll go back to where she belongs. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Song: Stand by Rascal Flatts