You had gotten ready for the day with the help of Peter. And currently you sat in your office, writing down information about the children and their health.
Their weight, height, how much they've grown. You pinch your nose bridge, exhaustion drowning you in its promise of warmth. A knock sounds at your office door and your eyes flick up to see Peter leaning on the doorway. You cant tell what but there is something off about his unannounced presence, it's as if he is on edge.
One of his hands holds a mug- your mug, which is filled to the brim with what you hope is chamomile tea, your favorite. You look him up and down, trying to see what's changed in his behavior.
"May I come in?"
You glance between him and your work before clearing your throat and shrugging. "I mean yeah, of course." You shuffle in your seat as he steps into the room, kicking the door stopper away from under the white door. It falls shut, and you and Peter are left alone in the small room.
"Good to see you're so excited to see me, dear." He raises an eyebrow, setting your mug in front of you and you almost squeal at the scent. It is chamomile, your favorite tea in the whole world. You shake your head, gesturing with your hands as you speak.
"I am excited to see you! It's just been a long day." You see him smile and nod, before standing to his feet. He walks behind you, and you sigh in delight as his fingertips dig into the tense muscles of your shoulders. You relax despite the unsettling feeling in your gut.
You unintentionally whine as he digs his thumb into a particular sensitive place due to the night before and he bends down to whisper in your ear. "I'm sorry, dearest. Did I hurt you?" He pushes his thumb against it harder, and you cry out. Jerking away from his touch, but his hand grabs your chin. The feeling of his lone silver band against your skin grounds you.
"Darling, I need you to tell me something."
You nod, confused and afraid. His sudden change in attitude is enough to make your heart squeeze. His eyes darkening as they stare into you. Your breath picks up and you stutter out your words. "P-Peter you're hurting me- I'm scared please stop."
"Hush, darling, answer me. Did you set me up? Hm? Oh! And, don't forget.." He lowers his lips to your ear, and you swallow the salvia building in your mouth. You're suddenly overly aware of the feeling of your own teeth grinding together because of his grip on your jaw. "I know when you're lying."
He pulls back, searching your face as your eyes widen in hurt confusion. You feel almost betrayed as tears fill your eyes, you're sobbing now. Strangled cries falling from your pursed lips.
"No! No, I would never Peter— you have to believe me!"
Peter's baby blues are filled with rage, and he stares into your eyes to the point you're uncomfortable. Then he softens, picking you up from your seat and holding you to his chest. Running his hands through your hair and peppering kisses to your face. "Shhh, shh. I apologize."
"You-You hurt me! Again!" You want to pull away, but he shushes you. Petting your head and cooing to you in that tone that makes you believe everything is alright. That this is your fault, that you didn't make it clear that you were on his side.
You nod, and agree to every lie he whispers in your ear. You're so aware of it, but you don't care. It feels almost euphoric as he holds you, twisting your mind once again. He is your damnation as well as your escapism.
And then three knocks sound against your office door. Peter is forcing you to sit down, and you practically fall into your seat. Peter leans over you, his arms caging you as his breath tickles your neck.
He nudges you, his eyes glancing to the door and you clear your throat. You pray you don't look like a mess, puffy and red eyed. Your voice nasally as you try to speak through tears. You wipe them, clearing your throat.
"Come in!"
Your door opens, and Dr. Brenner stands there with two orderlys at either side of him.
"Why don't you come with me, Miss. (Y/N), Peter." The way he addresses Peter unsettles you, it clearly had more bite to it. "Well? Shall we?"
The walk to his office had been long and terrifying, you and Peter walking side by side. Glancing at each other every now and then. You find closure in his relaxed attitude.
Peter still walks as he usually does, he does not walk with extra stiffness to his limbs. His hands are cupped behind his back as he steps towards what is very likely his and your doom.
You can not say the same, you're practically waddling. Taking small steps in hopes of getting there slower, but it makes no difference. As, when one of the two orderly's saw this, he simply grabbed your arm and began dragging you along with vigor.
Peter's gaze shifts to the man, and inside his head he comes to the conclusion that when he escapes. Hopefully, with you and Eleven, that that man will die first. Touching—no, not touching. Manhandling you, someone that doesn't belong to him, is quite rude.
Nobody has any right to let alone look at you, which he tolerates for the sake of you keeping your job, nevermind touch you. Who does this orderly think he is, Peter's power is significantly weakened but..
You don't like this, being pulled along like a disobedient dog on a leash. Then the man gripping you so tightly trips on nothing? You nearly fall too, but Peter catches you by your sleeve. Pulling you back and closer to his side without making it obvious.
And then your in his office. Twiddling your thumbs and breathing quickly, you're petrified to put it simply and not comfortable at all in the situation you have landed yourself in.
Brenner's sharp gaze shifts between you and Peter, he shakes his head and rocks side to side in his chair. "I'm disappointed in you, (Y/N). I cant say this is your usual behavior, but you Peter." Brenner's frown deepens, looking over Peter's stature.
"I expected this from you. There is no need for a lecture, there will be punishment. Consequences follow every wrong doing you do, you both know this, yes?"
You nod, Peter doesn't. He doesn't really care what Brenner has to say and it shows. "Well, alright then." Brenner's eyes glance at the two orderly's, one of them opens the door and two more come inside.
You and Peter are apprehended, and you scream struggling against their hold. You violently flail your arms, swinging blindly and accidentally punching one of them in the nose hard enough a sickening crack resonates through the rooms.
You feel the familiar prick of a needle in the skin of your neck, and your vision starts to go black. Your struggle becomes less, and you go slack in their grip as your eyes shut.
Your eyes flutter open before they fall half lidded, but you're not in your bed. Still dressed in your work uniform and eyelids heavy with sleep. Black dances through your vision before you can see clearly, your peripheral vision blurry.
You go to stretch, thinking that you've yet to grown accustomed to being conscious considering the deep sleep you've had.
Yet you cannot move. You think that maybe you're just still overcome with fatigue, that your limbs have grown stiff perhaps.
You try again, this time confusion settles in and now you're struggling. Dark pools get blown wide when you see that your arms are bonded securely to the arms of a chair. You try to lift your feet up when you register the cold tile floor nipping at your soles and the pads of your toes through your stockings.
You struggle, flailing around aimlessly. You're trying not to hyperventilate when you realize you're in the "behavioral therapy" room. Dr. Brenner stands opposite of the two-way mirror, next to you and shaking his head in dissatisfaction.
You remember now, what has happened. And they nearly sound proof is enough to make your screams muted, they'd only be able to be heard if someone walked by the room.
You open your mouth to form a sentence to ask why you're bounded like an animal to the seat, but your tongue gets stuck to the roof of your mouth when the door to the right of the two-way mirror opens.
Peter is being held by two orderly's and he's struggling violently in their hold. Spitting words of venom, each threat that slips from his angelic lips worse than the last. You're panicking now, and you watch as Peter's thrashing ceases at the sight of you.
"What..what's going on? Why is he here.." You can hardly recognize your own voice, shaking and filled with trepidation. "God no.." You pull against your restraints, all you end up doing is warring at the skin on your wrists.
When another orderly enters the room you recognize this situation, having been a witness to it many times. A taser rests in his hands and before you can think your mouth is forming sentences for you.
"Please..please Doctor don't hurt him- he hasn't done anything! I initiated contact every time! I swear, please!"
You're glancing between Peter, the taser and Brenner. Now you're yanking your limbs desperately against your restraints, staring in disbelief and terror as Peter is wrestled to the floor and to his knees. This can't be happening, no, no. This couldn't possibly be real.
When the first bolt of electricity passes through Peter, you scream please, it's loud and tortuous to the ears. It tears your throat, and you don't miss the blood that follows the initial pain.
"Please!" Your heart wrenching painfully in your chest as Peter's barely concealed yells and grunts of agony fill the room. You're sobbing out the word please over and over again, praying Brenner will really hear you.
You're gasping, greedily lapping up air as Brenner holds up his hand. Signaling them to stop harming the limp Peter in their hold.
"Let this be a lesson to you, (Y/N)."
Dr. Brenner leaves the room, and you're in shock. How could he be so cruel and then leave as if nothing happened? You're unstrapped from the chair, and your fist clenches. You're tempted to throw a right hook to the bottom of their jaw, knowing that will make them knock the fuck out.
Instead, you watch with nervous eyes as the orderly's leave. The door slides shut behind them. You're bouncing up from your seat and to Peter's side in a matter of seconds. You don't know where to start, what to check, to inspect on his person. You're grabbing at his face, pulling his upper half into your lap with clammy hands.
You scream through your tears, cussing out the orderly's. "Could you at least help me take him to his room?!" The two guards that stand in front of the door bristle at your harsh tone, having known you for a long time and not ever hearing you talk with such vigorous need in your voice.
You sob, cradling Peter's head to your chest. He groans, loudly and he tenses. You pull his face away from your chest, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks softly. You know so many comforting words, and yet in this moment you are lost in the sea of them.
You don't know which ones to say, how to heal him. How to make everything okay.
But everything is not okay.