I think three more weeks passed. I couldn't be sure, as I had entirely lost track of time. My days blended together into one endless, bleached white fever dream. I still wasn't permitted a clock, considering all I'd done, but it was probably for the best. When I wasn't attending lessons, I was on my own. Even after all these days, I never quite managed to gather up the courage to speak to 'my siblings.'
But today was different.
Or so I chanted to myself all the way to The Rainbow Room. Over the past few weeks, I realized my siblings didn't like me. And it certainly didn't take a genius to know why. I was weak. Even among the younger children, my abilities were comparatively lackluster. Each day during our lessons, I'd be called to take a crack at whatever new activity we were attempting, and each day I would fail. Without exception. Not even a weak flashing of a light bulb or shudder of a brick.
Although Papa assured me that I did, indeed, have powers, my performance on the field did not signify. I had been pretty good at ignoring the embarrassment up to a certain point, but it proved more and more difficult with each passing day. Sitting in front of two dozen people and getting laughed at for days on end was bound to put a chip on anyone's shoulder. I once told myself I couldn't be bothered with the hierarchy that developed among the children, but things had changed.
I still didn't accept the life I was forced to live here. Not even a little. But it was better than being dead-- or so I told myself. I had my doubts about that, too. My experience within the lab could probably be summed up into one ominous question mark.
Peter stubbornly maintained his place among my biggest questions of all. No matter how long I wracked my sleepless brain night after night, I produced no answer. No explanation as to why he let me go, and why he avoided me for weeks afterward. Though, I suppose the avoidance wasn't all him. He made me feel unsettled. I didn't like how intently he would look at me, and I certainly didn't like how gently he treated me. I wasn't accustomed to anything bordering genuine, especially in the lab.
Not to mention I wanted to avoid any and all emotional associations while I was here. They would only make my eventual escape all the more difficult. I didn't want to be haunted by any 'what-ifs' should I actually manage to leave. The whole ordeal would be much easier if I only had myself to worry about.
Thus I avoided him each day as though he were the plague, and he did the same.
I pushed open the doors to The Rainbow Room, for once without the assistance of Papa. I padded a few steps forward and scanned the length of the room. Four sat in the back corner, alone. The sound of her annoying little snicker filled my ears, and I turned away.
Next, my eyes landed on a boy of relatively tall stature with light brown hair. I knew two things about him; His name was Two, and he'd been here a long time. He looked a little bit older than me, and I knew from our lessons that he was pretty gifted. Standing before a miniature wooden maze, his eyes darted every which way as he made two separate marbles move at once.
I started walking toward him before I could talk myself out of it, anxiously rubbing my sweaty palms against my gown. I came to a halt right in front of him. His eyes never left the maze. It was then that I began to wonder about the proper etiquette when it came to our powers. Was I allowed to speak to him while he was using them? Was it rude, like interrupting someone's conversation?
The quiet persisted for a few more seconds, and then the boy sighed lowly and looked up, "Can I help you?" Annoyance dripped from each syllable. I frowned.
"I wasn't trying to be rude," I explained as embarrassment reddened my skin, "I just saw you over here and I've been wanting to acquaint myself with some of the other patients, so I thought I would say hi."
He blinked.
"So, hi," I breathed.
He looked at me as though I were something stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Regret unfurled in my gut, and he remained quiet for far too long. Perhaps he just wasn't going to respond. When I got tired of his judgemental glare, I turned to leave.
"How long have you been here?" He asked suddenly. I was far more relieved than I would've liked to admit. Facing him once again, I smiled.
"A little over a month." I looked over Two's head for a fleeting second and locked eyes with Peter. He stood near the exit as he normally did, observing the children with the same placid look on his face. I wasn't sure how long he had been watching our exchange, but once he was caught, he didn't bother to look away. I offered him a smile.
Fucker.
"A month?" Two's voice pulled my attention back towards him. He surveyed me with a raised eyebrow, "And you still can't turn on a lightbulb?"
I pursed my lips, "Evidently not, Two. Does that upset you?"
I was surprised to see such pure resentment fill his eyes. I could understand his annoyance up to a point-- I'm sure it wasn't very entertaining to watch me do absolutely nothing for minutes on end during our lessons. I'd probably be annoyed with me, too. But the look he gave me was abysmal-- far worse than I deserved.
He took a step closer. Alarm bells began ringing in my head as unwanted fear curled up my spine. "What upsets me is how much time Papa has already wasted on you," His breath fanned my face. He was seething. "You're weak. And yet he still pays so much attention to you, why?"
"Back up," My voice was low, and I was surprised at how much effort it took to keep it from shaking.
"Answer my question," He leered.
"Not until you back up."
His scowl never faltered. A tense silence settled upon us-- neither wanted to be the first to step down. It occurred to me that Papa's reach went much deeper than I originally thought. These kids weren't putting up with him solely because they didn't have a choice, they were putting up with them because they loved him. Like starving dogs, they fought amongst each other for even the smallest fraction of his attention. And it had always been that way. The only person ever willing to treat them as something more than a test subject was Papa. What they failed to realize, however, was that the way Papa loved wasn't natural. He asked things of them no parent should. He poked and he prodded all in the name of science, and then he brainwashed them into believing they had to comply and cower beneath him to be lovable.
The look Two gave me was possessive, not angry.
Finally, I relented and staggered back. "I'm sorry," I whispered, though I doubt he heard it.
I was summoned to Papa's office after lessons. A guard accompanied me, though he wasn't much for conversation. We walked in utter silence, and my displeasure seemed to grow with every step we took. Talking always managed to distract me from the endless billowing of the air conditioner. Without it, my head ached and I grew rather irritable.
We took one final turn down the blaring white hallways and came across a wooden door. "This is it," The guard said. I stared at him unsurely; I'd never been to this part of the facility. Especially not on my own. His stony face never softened, and his tone remained firm, "Go on, then."
I exhaled wearily and walked past him. After rapping harshly on the door, Papa's voice called 'come in' and I continued into the office.
Immediately upon entering, it was clear the space was solely occupied by Papa. The office almost looked staged. Everything from the pens on his desk to the way the chairs were arranged screamed his name. As did the lack of pictures or gadgets or anything that so much as hinted towards a real person inhabiting the space. It was minimalistic, muted, and thoroughly lacking in any discernable personality.
White lights blared down at me as I entered. The air conditioner was louder. I gritted my teeth and shuffled further into the room.
"Take a seat, Sixteen," Papa didn't attempt to appear inviting, which meant I was in trouble, "We have much to discuss." I internally groaned as I collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. Papa sat on the other side, watching my every move through cautious, discerning eyes.
"Is something wrong?" I questioned. I wracked my brain for any recent decisions I've made that would land me here, underneath his scrutinizing glare, but came up blank. Perhaps this was related to my escape?
"Yes, I'm afraid there is," Something like disappointment burrowed itself in his tone, "You've been a patient at the lab for a little over a month, correct?" I nodded. "Although the transition was... rocky, I like to believe that you're somewhat adjusted to life here."
"Yes, Papa, I like to think so, too," I replied. My time here had made lying an incredibly effortless task. It came as naturally as breathing, especially around Papa. This time around, however, I wasn't lying. I had adjusted to life within the lab, whether I liked it or not. Part of me hated that. Hated how compliant I was when I should've been anything but. However, a bigger, more logical part of me knew I didn't have a choice, and it was best I bide the time until I can escape with as little conflict as possible.
"You're failing, Daughter," Papa's eyes were stone cold. I was taken aback by the declaration, and it was apparent on my face.
"You're weaker than your siblings, and I'm not the only one who has noticed. Haven't you heard them laughing at you during lessons?" He spoke so matter-of-factly. Warmth crept up my cheeks as embarrassment settled inside me. "You can not turn on a lightbulb, you can not locate an object, you can't even lift a paper clip into the air."
"Can you?" I asked hotly.
His glare never faltered. After a few silent moments, he opened up a drawer in his desk and shuffled around. He came back up with a paper clip, placing it directly in front of me. I looked down at the little piece of metal and then back up at him. His posture was straight as an arrow and his hands were neatly folded in front of him. Must he always be so immaculate?
"Prove me wrong, Sixteen."
I peered at him before reluctantly bringing my gaze down to the clip. My hands remained planted by my side as I silently panicked. I could not do this. I knew I couldn't, and yet I still tried. Just like I had been trying every day, without success. I took a deep, unsteady breath and focused. I felt the soft, electric thrum in my veins. It was omnipresent, running through my body like liquid fire. Yet, whenever I tried to hone it, it was as though someone had doused the feeling with water, rendering me utterly useless. I'd been told that the electricity in my veins was my revered 'abilities,' and yet I often wondered if I had just fabricated the feeling in my mind.
Because just like the days before, I failed.
The lamp on Papa's desk flashed as I snapped my head back up, spitefully declaring, "I can't do it. You know I can't do it."
He returned my anger with cool, collected indifference, "But you can, Daughter. All you need is the correct atmosphere and you could flourish just like your siblings." A twinge of empathy softened his features, "I believe in you, even though you may not believe in yourself. That is why I've developed something like a training course for you. Tailored just to your needs."
Concern shot through me.
"Just for experiment's sake, I am going to take you out of group training for the next few weeks," Papa explained, "When you display potential, it is always congruent with two separate scenarios. Scenario number one; you're under emotional duress. Although your abilities do seem much more persistent during such times, it is important to separate your abilities from your emotions. That is why the experiment is going to hinge on scenario number two; your solitude. Without fail, your powers are stronger when there are fewer people focusing on you."
"Does that mean I'll be training on my own from now on?" I tried to keep the giddiness out of my voice. I never liked group training. The feeling of all the eyes on me, searing holes through the back of my head and breathing down my neck made me want to put a gun in my mouth. I welcomed any opportunity to avoid it.
Papa's eyes sparkled warmly. He was likely pleased with my willingness to partake in his science experiment. "Not exactly, Number Sixteen... You will be training with Peter."
OKAY! okay training! okay developing relationship
WHAT KIF I TOLD YOU I FEEL LIKE I KNOW YOU. BUT WE NEVER MET. - Phoebe bridgers i love her i lover hher guys did i mention i love phoebe bridgers.
READ THE NEXT CHAPTER AHHHHJH DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT OR ELSE IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEEE
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