𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑰𝑬 , gen v apply fic

¹ acceptance letter

      SHE CLUTCHED TO the acceptance letter in her hands, her face growing warm and her heart beating at the speed of light. They couldn't even begin to express their genuine surprise to find that they had been accepted into Godolkin University. It's been months since they applied—could this be true? Godolkin University wanted her?

      A smile brightened her face as she read over the first sentence again and again, one of her glove-cladded hands releasing the paper to cover her mouth.

      "Charlie!" a voice called. She quickly looked up and folded the letter into its original form, slipping it back into the envelope it came in as she scrambled up to leave the room.

      Charlie could hear outbursts of screaming and arguing coming from one of the classrooms down the hall, and she spotted two kids standing underneath the doorframe. She shoved her way past the two to get by, eyeing down their teacher, who had been distressed from one of the kids acting out.

       "Please," she pleaded, a hand held to her chest as she caught her breath. She motioned down to the boy—seemingly older than Charlie—whose arms had been encased around a solid block of wood created by one of the other children. He struggled against the material, unable to set himself free. "Do what you can," her teacher requested.

       Charlie locked eyes with her, hesitating on making a move. She was often used to put some of the more hostile kids to sleep before they're hauled off to the adult Vought facility. Made the process for them easier, but made Charlie even more guilty each and every time. They stared down at the boy, stepping closer.

       He was near to tears, his forehead pushed against the hard floor as he still tried to break free from the wood. "Charlie," he cried out, almost repeatedly. "Charlie! Please . . . Don't do it. You know what they're gonna do to me, Charlie. You can't let them take me."

There were a million different stories that played throughout the Red River Institute. Most of them were to say that if you weren't adopted before your time was up, you're as good as dead. It always frightened Charlie, especially, and at the rate they were going at before the acceptance letter, it was unlikely for her to be adopted before eighteen.

They pulled one of their gloves off and stared down at him one more time. His cries were only getting louder and he continued to plead. They slightly pulled down the collar of his shirt and pressed their palm to his neck, creating the skin-to-skin contact.

"It's okay," Charlie whispered, watching his movements. It was only a few seconds until he stopped twitching, and his face softened. His eyes closed as he was put to sleep, and Charlie's gaze lingered on the small puddle of tears that connected to this cheek that was pushed up against the floor now.

They sharply exhaled, pulling away from the boy as he was immediately dragged out of the room. Charlie, along with some of the other kids, watched as his body was carried outside, until he wasn't seen anymore. The two kids at the doorframe had looked at Charlie again, their faces contorting into some emotion like worry, or hatred, or fear. Fear that if they shared the same fate as him, or if they needed to be controlled, they would call after Charlie.

There was a sickening feeling in her stomach, just from the sight of their faces. She knew what they were thinking. She didn't need telepathy to guess. Charlie pulled her glove back on.

Her teacher, who seemed a little more relaxed than before, tried to approach the seventeen-year-old, setting a hand on their shoulder. "Thank you, Charl—"

They shrugged her hand off of their shoulder and walked out of the classroom to return to their room.

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