Papa summoned the children to his office one at a time. First Two, then Three, then Four, continuing on in numerical order. Each person seemed to dread whatever was waiting for them, dragging their feet as different orderlies ushered them out the door. This only made me more nervous, as I had no idea what to expect, and Six had disappeared a few hours ago.
Each child came back right after their testing except her. I figured she just went to rest, choosing her bed over free time in the Rainbow Room. I'd of done the same. Still, though, it left me to sit alone as the hours ticked by, impatiently waiting for my turn all while fighting the urge to fall asleep. Each minute seemed to pass slower than the last.
As if it wasn't bad enough already, Two and Four's incessant glaring in my direction made me want to carve my eyes out. I was already hypersensitive with the lack of sleep and the endless screaming of the a/c, and their stares were enough to push me over the edge.
The cards clenched between my hands suddenly slipped, and I watched as they fell to the ground. On top of everything else, the fallen cards brought frustrated tears to my eyes. The light above me flickered as my anger reached new depths. "Fuck," I whispered, clenching my eyes closed as I tried to steady my breathing, "It's just a few cards."
There was a tap on my shoulder.
"What?" I spat, whipping my head around to face the culprit.
Peter's blue eyes filled with confusion at my outburst. Of course, it was Peter who I'd lost my temper on. Because why would the universe ever make things easy for me? "It's your turn, Sixteen," He said.
"Lovely," I muttered, rising from my chair. I was too tired to be nervous around him. The dream didn't even cross my mind as I followed him out into the hallway. I kept my mouth shut and my gaze on the floor, silently panicking as we made our way to Papa's office. I hadn't seen the man since I'd discovered his... more violent tendencies. Was I a good enough actor to play the doting daughter on zero hours of sleep?
I suppose I didn't really have a choice, did I?
My thoughts traveled back to Two and Four's threat. I truly didn't know whether to take it seriously or not. Why did they only ask me to fail? Why not Six? I must have given them the impression that I was powerful enough to get a spot in Papa's revered 'program.' Otherwise, they wouldn't have said what they did.
I didn't doubt Two and Four's capacity for violence. 'Unhinged' described the pair pretty well. Six once told me it wasn't unlike them to fight with their fellow patient. Broken fingers, legs, wrists, and arms. All inflicted to pay tribute to their obsession with Papa. In one way, I felt bad for them. They'd been molded to think that way their entire lives. I was more fortunate than they were in that metric. Papa's influence had shattered the minds of nearly everyone in the facility. The rest simply cowered at his feet.
My gaze shifted to my still-throbbing hand.
I dug my heels into the ground. If they didn't kill me, they would certainly hurt me. That thought had me stopping in my tracks and wondering if I had the willpower to walk into the office. What if I got the spot even after throwing the tests today?
"Sixteen?" Peter had stopped walking. I glanced down the deserted hallways on either side of us. For a moment, I considered hauling ass. Perhaps I could skip the tests altogether and take my chances at an off-the-cuff escape attempt.
Peter took a few steps closer. Slowly, though, like he was trying not to frighten an animal. "Are you feeling alright?" His eyebrows knitted together in worry. It briefly occurred to me how insane this all was. I was trapped in a lab, surrounded by children who possessed unknown powers, forced to follow the will of a man I did not know. All this time spent thinking about Peter when I should've been thinking about myself.
But then again, what else was there?
I had no memories of my own, no comprehension of the outside world. If I left... I would be completely and utterly alone, known only by those who remained in the lab-- a ghost in every way that mattered. Somehow, that was scarier than anything Papa could possibly do to me. So I had to choose between torture, paranoia, and manipulation or being virtually nonexistent.
The entire situation was impossible.
"They said they were going to kill me," The words left angry welts on my throat. The fear I felt was far too easy for Peter to see. From the flush of my skin to the widening of my eyes, it was too obvious. Before I even spoke, I wished I could take the words back, "I'm going to fail today, Peter. I'm sorry if that reflects badly on you, but I can't--," I took a deep, shaking breath.
"I can't." The finality of the words left no room for debate.
He stared at me, completely silent. I didn't know what else to say. Whatever he was thinking, I couldn't tell. Papa wouldn't punish him for my own shortcomings, would he? The thought alone made my head pound.
His jaw clenched. "You really don't see it, do you?" I gave him a blank stare as he stepped closer. "You're stronger than the others, Sixteen. They're not going to hurt you because they can't."
Slowly, he raised his hand. I glanced at the callouses on his fingertips and my blood went cold. Deja vu hit me like a speeding truck. He tapped two fingers against my head, "The blockage is in here. But I've said that already, haven't I?"
I shook my head, "It's not that simple, Peter."
He smiled and tilted his head, "Isn't it?"
"No, it's not," I sighed.
He appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. Part of me hoped he would just drop it and allow me to fail the tests to my heart's desire. I already regretted telling him about Two and Four's threat. It only complicated matters, and it wasn't like he could do anything to prevent it.
Peter tapped the tattoo on my wrist, "Do you remember when Papa gave you this?" A bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I always made a concerted effort not to look at the '016' that marred the flesh of my arm. It only reminded me of how hopeless my situation was-- reminded me that giving up would make my life so much easier.
"Yes," I muttered, "I wish I didn't, though."
"Me too," He whispered, warm fingers ghosting over the tattoo once more. He met my eyes, "The next time you use your abilities, I want you to think back to that moment. What were you feeling?"
"I felt..." I remembered waking up in that chair, alone, drugged out of my mind. Most of the details were fuzzy, too much was happening at once. But even so, the memory remained parasitically in the back of my mind. It served as a constant reminder of what was at stake. Body and mind, heart and soul. They all cowered at the thought. "Hopeless, I suppose."
"Hopeless," He repeated, as though he were tasting the word in his mouth, "Your emotions are uniquely connected to your abilities. They ground you, they sustain you. Use them, Sixteen, and your siblings' pitiful excuse for a threat will be the least of your concerns."
"I can't promise you anything, Peter," I still couldn't be sure. True or not, there wasn't enough time to prove his claim. Regretably, my mind remained unchanged. "I don't mind if Papa is disappointed in my performance today. Impressing him doesn't mean anything to me. I can't risk it."
He remained silent.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," I mumbled, before side-stepping him and continuing towards Papa's office. My head throbbed. Each footstep pushed me more and more towards the brink of collapse. The air conditioning continued with it's billowing. My heart sank.
I just wanted everything to go away.
"You could never disappoint me, Sixteen."
I suppose Peter could stay, though.
The first two rounds of testing went just as I expected. Papa watched me with perceptive eyes, occasionally offering the same useless advice I'd heard a million times. The first thing he asked me to do was push over a block. I grunted and groaned, pretending to put effort into the task until it looked believeable. Feigning disappointment was easy. Next, he asked me to turn on the lights. I continued the ruse, straining the muscles in my neck and sighing after I 'failed.'
The whole time, I could feel Peter's eyes drilling into the back of my head. He stood at the door and never said a word, but his judgement simmered in the air between us. If I were him, I'd probably be annoyed with me too. How many hours had he spent getting me to the point I was at now? All for me to throw it away when it actually mattered.
I could not meet Peter's eyes, so instead, I stared at Papa's. I sat with a polite smile on my face and discerning, attentive eyes. Most of what he said didn't even register, though. My mind was far too busy wresting with more important thoughts. The most predominant of which being-- holy fuck-- I was so tired I could feel my organs shutting down.
"Sixteen?" Papa's voice pulled me away from my thoughts. He, too, had a smile on his face, which was surprising, considering how badly I'd done so far. "Your last test of the day is rather simple. I'm sure you've done something similar with Peter already." He nodded in Peter's direction.
"I'm told you have an excellent grasp on extrasensory perception," He prasied, before picking up a notebook on his desk. I locked eyes with Peter, who had an uncharacteristically smug smile plastered on his face.
Papa flipped through the notebook, "I'm not present at your training often enough to accurately track your progress, so Peter takes notes for me. Now, this entry is from your last session." He paused, cleared his throat, and quoted, "Subject successfully discerned written word without the use of the five given senses. Subject posed no physical or mental signs of fatigue in the aftermath of the experiment."
My eyes narrowed. Peter knew Papa had the notebook the whole time, didn't he? He practically had a fail safe to keep me from completely throwing all of the tests. And the motherfucker hadn't even told me. If I failed the extrasensory perception test, Papa would have to believe I'd either lost all of that progress in one day, or that Peter was a liar. Again, I was forced to wonder what meritted a punishment and what didn't.
My eyes met Peter's. A subtle inclination of his head gave me all the confirmation I needed.
Fucker.
"How about we skip your last test, hm?" Papa's words caught me by surprise. Maybe he had seen me fail thus far, and figured another test was a waste of time. No, but that didn't make sense, especially if he knew I was best at the test he had cancelled. Perhaps it was just a blessing in disguise.
I briefly forgot the role I had given myself. How would a doting daughter relpy to such a thing? She wouldn't be excited. Probably not mad, either, in case that upsetted Papa. If anything, she'd be eager to do the final test and win his esteemed approval. With that thought in mind, I plastered a frown on my face and asked, "Why? I'll do better this time."
Papa offered me a reassuring smile and clasped my hands in his, "I don't doubt your abilities, Sixteen. You've progressed more in the past two months than some your siblings have in their entire lives."
His approval made my heart drop. Surely, he wasn't considering me for the program. I had already failed two thirds of the test. "I'm not so sure," I muttered, "The blocks didn't move, the lights didn't even flicker. Most of the children can do both of those things without any trouble."
"That's exactly what makes you so special," His eyes sparkled with scientific intrigue, as though he were staring at his newest invention, "Sure, your siblings can turn on lights and move blocks, but none of them can sustain an out of body experience for more than a few seconds. Especially not without being incapacitated for a few hours. You, daughter, weren't even tired."
He sat back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You're an enigma."
I didn't quite know what to say. If what I'd done truly was as exceptional as Papa was saying, then why didn't Peter mention anything about it to me? He hadn't even seemed surpsrised when I read the words on his paper. Perhaps Papa was just exaggerating it to make me feel better?
Oh, but that wasn't likely.
When I'd done badly in the past, he held it against me. Sometimes he even taunted me with the reality of my failures. At the time, I figured it was some sorry attempt at reverse psychology. Had he simply changed his methods?
"I have a surprise for you, Number Sixteen," Papa continued. I titled my head, signaling for him to go on. "There's a position open in a new program I'm developing. I would like to see you fill it." I very nearly threw up. My fingernails cut viciously into my palms. "Once a week, you'll be given a face and a name, and then it will be your job to locate that person. Each time you succeed, you'll be rewarded an extra hour in the Rainbow Room. How does that sound?"
Like a death sentence, and the worst possible thing he could've possibly said.
The universe must have gotten off on all of this. My entire life had begun feeling like a big game of 'how can we make this worse for Sixteen?'
"Intriguing," I replied after a short silence. My voice was all high and wrong. I hoped Papa would mistake the panic for excitement. "Are you certain I'm, uh..." I cleared my throat, "Qualified for that?"
"I have unending faith in you, daughter," He smiled once more. A sweet, sacchrine smile that made something dark and frightened twist in my stomach. I glanced down at my palm, which was stained red from the crescent shaped craters my nails had created. Maggots must've been crawling beneath my skin, gnawing at what was left of my composure. I could feel it slipping away by the second.
Never, in my entire life, had I been so wholly and utterly fucked.