The next day, Papa called on me to 'sort things out.' Whatever that meant, I dreaded it. Who could blame me? The last time I'd seen his face, he was burying a taser in my neck. Dream or not, the memory was far from pleasant. Not to mention I was supposed to meet him in his office, where I massacred four different people only days prior. Why he would decide to meet there of all places, I couldn't say.
I figured my inevitable 'punishment' would be more lenient if I was on my best behavior, so I obliged despite whatever protests I had. My shoes padded against the floor, the only indication that the hallways weren't deserted entirely. Nervous fingers tapped against my outer thigh as I, once again, contemplated just going back to sleep.
It was a lovely idea, one I toyed with but wouldn't submit to so easily. I kept on having to remind myself how much effort I already exerted just getting up. I wouldn't jump at the opportunity to repeat that awful process again.
I placed one dread-filled foot in front of the other, walking as slowly as I could.
I hadn't gotten much sleep last night. The tiredness didn't bother me too much, though. My mind was constantly brimming with nervous energy, much too full to dwell on such a trivial matter as sleeplessness. That mentality was evident by the growing pill collection beneath my pillow, which had begun to spill out onto my sheets. I'd have to put them under my mattress when I got the chance.
Peter took up most of my mind last night. Which annoyed the hell out of me as one would expect. I could pretend to be indifferent all I wanted, but nighttime kept me honest. It coaxed my most pressing thoughts to the surface whether I liked it or not. The second the moon budded like a rose into the night sky, my brain insisted on turning over every single detail of our last exchange. It was infuriating.
Still, I did make an interesting revelation.
I realized Peter acted eerily similar to how he had in my dream. 'I'm on your side' he insisted; the exact same words he used when I was strapped down to that chair. Almost verbatim, all the way down to his promise of 'always' afterward. I suppose spending hours upon hours in his company would could make me subconsciously aware of the way he spoke, which then manifested itself in my dream. After all, Peter didn't have the power to read my mind or enter my dreams. I decided to write it off a coincidence. An eery one, to be sure, but a coincidence nonetheless.
I intended to keep my promise of finding out what part Peter played in my arrival. Not just because I was curious, but because I needed a distraction. Something to throw my mind, body, and abilities into in order to avoid the headspace that I'd just recently escaped. The promise was, admittedly, uttered in the heat of the moment, meaning I didn't have a plan quite yet. Still, I had no doubt that I'd be able to figure out what happened. The people here weren't nearly as smart as they thought they were. After all, I got so close to finding out the truth without even really trying. Next time around, I'd have to be far more conniving and far less impulsive.
My first move would be to get out of training with Peter. I certainly couldn't delve into the events of my arrival with him breathing down my neck at all hours of the day. Not to mention I didn't like him all that much. It would be difficult, though. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew a part of me would mourn our sessions together. After all, that's where this all started. With his invigorating smiles and stupid fucking words that I once loved so much.
I dispelled any further thoughts of him as I reached the familiar wooden door of Papa's office. I didn't want to dive down that particular hole today. The Peter I knew, the Peter that enamored me, he wasn't real. The real Peter was calculated and perfidious. Every action he ever made was premeditated and intentional, and I simply couldn't get twisted up in his mess all over again.
The door groaned as it swung on its hinges, sounding as ancient as the man who sat on the other side of it. The man in question smiled and gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk upon seeing me. "Number Sixteen," He greeted, "Please take a seat."
Goosebumps littered my skin. Not only because Papa's office was frigid, but because a sickening sense of deja vu hit me all at once. Looking at the immaculate perfection that was the room around me, I could almost forget what I'd done.
Almost.
If I narrowed my eyes and the light glinted just right, I could see sparks raining down all over again. I could smell copper in the air, omitting from four twisted up bodies encased in dark green uniforms. Of course, though, that was all cleaned up now. There wasn't a single shred of evidence that anything had gone awry. Papa's pencils were back in their container, his papers were neatly arranged on his desk, and the drawer that once contained my esteemed tape was... empty. He surely made a point to leave it open, reminding me that I failed.
A sigh escaped my lips as I took a seat across from him.
"We have a lot to discuss, don't we?" Papa asked, to which I nodded. Reading him was never a particularly difficult feat, but the expression on his face didn't offer me much. There was no twitch of his eye or tilting of his lip. Either he was putting in extra effort to be unreadable, or I was off my game.
"Am I in trouble?" I asked. Truthfully, I was surprised it took him this long to demand recompense for all I had done. Murder wasn't a light offensive, especially the murder of five. The last time I killed someone, he threatened to do the exact same thing to me. Sitting there in front of him, I doubted the validity of that statement. If he wanted to kill me, he would have by now. Not to mention I was a constituent in his ever-vague 'program,' and apparently well-versed in extrasensory perception.
"No, no. You're not in trouble," He folded his hands in front of him and leaned closer, "I would, however, like to talk about what happened last week... and how you're coping with everything. Taking a life tends to weigh on a person, especially one as young as yourself."
"It was self defense," I muttered.
He nodded, eyes brimming with I assumed was empathy, "I understand your perspective, Sixteen. I do. That wasn't an accusation, just an observation, you don't have to justify your actions... Having abilities such as yours is quite the paradox, isn't it?"
"I don't know what paradox means," I replied. I couldn't understand his angle. For once, he seemed entirely genuine, which didn't make any sense considering the subject matter. If anything, I'd expect him to be more transparent than usual. Somehow, though, there was absolutely no condescension or anger in his voice.
"A paradox is something that's self-contradictory," He explained, "Your abilities are a perfect example. Some days, they're a gift. You're able to do, see, and understand things the average person can't. With those gifts, however, there are also pitfalls. If you're too emotional or too tired, your abilities will eat away at you. Some would go as far as to call them a curse."
"That makes sense," I mumbled.
"What about you, Sixteen? Do you consider them a gift or a curse?"
Curse. Curse. Curse.
I didn't even have to think about it. The entire reason I was in this situation in the first place was because of the god-awful electricity weaved beneath my skin. I didn't care for the jealousy and competition that it inspired amidst the other patients, and I certainly didn't care for the target it put on my back. If it were up to me, my abilities would weaken and wither until it was if they never existed at all.
Of course, the confession was for me and me alone. I'd be damned before I told Papa any of my innermost thoughts.
"Um, I don't know. Sometimes they're good and sometimes they're bad. Like..." I cleared my throat, "Last week. Every once in a while I lose control, and when I want to stop, I can't. I get sort of wrapped up in it, if that makes any sense."
"I understand better than you know," He sat back in his chair. His mouth opened, and then froze, as though he was rethinking whatever it was he planned to say. "You remind me of someone. A boy who used to be under my care."
Deja vu hit me all at once. I half expected to look down and see leather cuffs wrapped around my wrists. Papa had spoken of a boy in my dream. A boy just like me; powerful beyond comprehension. The coincidences began piling up, and I had this awful, sinking feeling that maybe the dream wasn't just that. How could my subconscious possibly know all about that boy-- about the exact words Peter would use to justify his actions?
Good, plain common sense whispered logic in my ear. It told me this was just another coincidence. It told me to collect myself, stop making up wild conspiracy theories, and get a hobby before I truly collapse into delusion. And I listened to it, because the alternative was foolish and ill-conceived.
Still, 'the boy' caught my interest.
"A boy?" I asked, keeping my tone light and my expression mildly curious, "Who was he?"
"I suppose you could call him the original--," Papa paused, furrowing his eyebrows as though he couldn't believe the words just left his mouth. Without any warning, he pivoted the conservation in a drastically different direction, "You know, I regret having you train with Peter so soon after your arrival. I should have spent more time with you, Daughter, before introducing you to the inner workings of the lab. I understand it must've been... overstimulating. There was no adjustment period, and I have a feeling that's why you're having such a hard time here."
I frowned, "I'm not having a hard time. What makes you say that?"
"Well, your recent insomnia diagnosis, for example. There was no record of any trouble sleeping before you arrived here. It must've been brought on by the stress of entering a whole new environment."
"Maybe," I shrugged.
"And that," He nodded towards me, "You're closed off, Sixteen. Cold."
Cold. What else did he expect me to be? After all I'd been through, how could I be anything but? It was his fault that my entire life had been ripped away from me. I couldn't even mourn what once was, because I didn't remember a single detail. Peter had said it was a mercy to have no memory of what happened to me. Then he went on to contradict that statement by saying I wasn't lucky, because I knew a life existed that was better than this one. At the time, it confused me. Now, I realized he was right, and that this whole thing wasn't as black and white as I once thought.
A double edged sword, indeed.
My favorite thing about free time was how easy it was to wonder around the hallways. Occasionally, a guard would stop me and ask where I was going, but lying had basically become my second language-- one that I spoke masterfully. 'My room,' 'the nurse,' and 'the bathroom' were the most popular destinations I'd lie about. Sometimes, if I was feeling a little bit brave, I'd lie about training or a call to Papa's office. The issue with those excuses, however, was that they were relatively easy to check, and I didn't want to risk getting caught and facing further restrictions.
Apparently, I was the only patient who discovered the ability to lie. As Six and I cruised down the hallways, two guards had stopped us. Each time, she went deathly quiet and held her breath like an exhale would expose our true intentions. Of course, I was well-versed in avoiding such a fate, and we walked away scot free.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," She breathed by my side, the first words she uttered since we left the Rainbow Room.
"Me? You were the one who wanted to 'talk about my feelings' and get snacks. Blame yourself," I taunted as we turned left down another hallway. The metallic set of double doors which led to the kitchen waited at the end.
"Yes, well, in retrospect that wasn't a good idea," She frowned, "The mood was all serious and I wanted to make you feel better. Now I don't really care about your emotions. I'll kill you myself if we get caught."
"Ouch," I gasped, placing a hand over my heart, "Not nice at all."
"Yeah, that was the point."
"That was the point," I mimicked under my breath, earning a sharp glare from Six. With a roll of my eyes, I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal doorknob and wrenched it open, gesturing for her to go inside.
The kitchen hadn't changed a bit. Immaculate, lifeless, forever frozen in its pasty white perfection. I wondered if the space was even used. There was no way people actually cooked in there-- the stovetops, counters, and cabinets showed scarcely any signs of wear and tear. Aside from that odd detail, I noticed that the a/c was far louder than usual, coaxing an aggravated sigh from my throat as I followed Six into the room. "Doesn't the air conditioning bother you?" I groaned.
She gave me a funny look. "No. Why would it?"
"It's just so loud," I muttered, "It's incessant. Makes me want to slam my head into a wall."
"You make me want to slam my head into a wall but I don't call you incessant, do I?"
"You're acting like I hurt the air conditioner's feelings."
"Maybe you did," She shrugged, making her way toward the fridge and pulling it open, "Okay. So we have two different soda options. There's coca-cola and coke. Papa says they taste the same, but that's just not true."
"Uh... which one do you prefer?" I asked, hoisting myself onto the cool metal counter.
"Coca-cola," she answered, "It's sweeter, it looks better, it tastes better; basically, it's better in every possible way. Coke tastes like shit in comparison."
"Oh, my god, you swore!" I gasped, "I've never heard you swear before."
She grinned, "You're a bad influence."
"Says the one who suggested we sneak into the kitchen."
"Shut up. So what do you want, coca-cola or coke?"
"Well, since you have questionable taste in... most things, I'll have a coke," I replied.
"Fine, have it your way. I hope you enjoy shitty soda," She huffed, reaching into the fridge and producing two bottles, "I think I should swear more often. It really gets the point across, doesn't it?"
"Obviously. Why do you think I do it so often?" I asked. Six crossed the room and placed the bottles on the counter before pulling herself onto the surface next to me. The containers were wholly composed of glass aside from label, which wrapped around the top half of each bottle. Hers read 'Coca-Cola' in cursive, while mine read 'Coke.'
Six took her bottle and brought it between her teeth. A wince crossed over her face, and then a pop sounded as she bit down. She pulled the bottle into her lap, placing the cap on the table beside us.
I figured I was meant to do the same, so I brought the bottle up to my mouth and bit down on the metal lid. I waited for the indicative 'pop' to tell me that my task was accomplished, but it never came. I frowned and pulled it from my lips. "How did you do that?"
She watched me with amusement, "It took me three months to learn how to bite the top off. You really think you can do it on the first try?"
"Obviously not. That's why I'm asking you, stupid."
She held the hand towards me, "Give it to me." I did. With almost no effort, she managed to pop off the cap between her teeth, giving me a smug grin after handing it back. I barely restrained the urge to roll my eyes.
"Cheers?" She asked.
"I don't know what that is."
"And I'm the stupid one," She jabbed, "Just pick up your bottle and click it against mine, then say cheers."
"Why?"
"Because I told you to."
"Fine," I huffed, "Cheers." She echoed me as our bottles clinked together, throwing her head back and taking one long sip. "Wait, wait, wait. Did I do the cheers right? What do I do now? Your directions were too vague."
"Drink," She demanded, taking the end of my bottle and pushing to to my lips.
"Fine," I replied, doing as I was told. The brown drink fizzed, cold as it met my tongue. An odd sensation followed afterwards, like there were fireworks going off in my mouth. The liquid in the bottle hissed, foaming up for a few moments before going flat. I swallowed and frowned. "Is this poison or something?"
"No, it's not poison," She chuckled, "Why, do you not like it?
"I actually... Well, I actually liked it quite a bit. I just don't understand why it's foaming. That can't be safe," I frowned, "I also don't really know what it reminds me of. I've never had anything like this before."
"You're looking into it too much."
"Maybe you're just not looking into it enough," I retorted, taking another sip. The taste was odd. The word Papa had taught me, 'paradox,' rang in my head. The drink was as sweet as it was bitter, refreshing but also also wearying on my tastebuds. "I like this."
"What did I tell you?" She sat back against the wall, "It's good. I'm always right, Sixteen, when will you realize that?"
"When it's actually true," I hummed, "So never."
"Haha, so funny," She said sarcastically. I collapsed against the wall beside her, taking another tentative sip. Before she even uttered her next words, I knew what she was going to say. The energy in the room physically shifted as though it were its own being, and I remembered the reason she wanted to come here in the first place. "So..." She faced me, "Do you wanna talk about it? What Peter did? Why you were gone for so long?"
Did I want to talk about it? What a loaded question.
In one way, yes, I did. I wanted to pour my entire heart out to Six just so I could have someone to talk to about it. Someone to take on some of the burden with me, so that the weight on my shoulders could finally lessen even if it was just a little bit.
Then again, the idea of disclosing something so personal, so raw, made me feel sick to my stomach. It was almost horrifying to imagine Six knowing such intimate details of my life. The last time I'd laid myself bare before someone and truly allowed them a glimpse into my mind, it had blown back on me in a way I hadn't thought possible. Peter's betrayal hurt me more than I wished to admit, and I couldn't deny the possibility that Six was capable of doing the same thing.
"Honestly... I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay," I muttered. The words almost hurt when they left my mouth. I wished I could trust Six. I really did. Somehow, this place had reduced me to a paranoid, distrustful mess in the span of months. I didn't want to view the world in such a way, but was there really any other option? My naivety, my willingness to trust, it had already backfired on me once. There was simply no way I would allow that to happen again.
"That's okay," Six smiled reassuringly and gestured towards me with her bottle, "You don't have to share anything with me if you don't want to. How about you tell me a different secret instead? Like a really embarrassing one."
"That's a good idea," I hummed, taking another sip of my coke. I relished in the coldness which soothed my ever-on-edge nerves. I had plenty of secrets, of course. Embarrassing ones, though, I didn't have too many of those. "Well, I suppose I do have one that's kind of embarrassing."
She leaned forward, "Tell me."
"Okay, but promise you won't judge."
"I'm not making any promises. Judging you is my job. Now tell me."
"Okay," I breathed, "Sometimes I have these like... drug dreams? I don't really know what to call them, but I'm prescribed a pill for my insomnia and it gives me insanely realistic dreams. Like realistic as in I'm fully conscious and I confuse them with real life sometimes."
"That's cool, Sixteen, not embarrassing," She frowned.
"I'm getting there. Give me a minute, damn."
"Hurry up then."
I smiled and rolled my eyes at her rudeness, "So, sometimes I see people in my dreams. And on occasion they get a little, um, inappropriate, and I see..." Embarrassment took hold and I had to pause. My cheeks flushed.
"No!" She gasped, eyes going wide, "Don't tell me you're having wet dreams about Peter."
"Six!" I slapped her arm, "Oh, my god. I don't even know what a 'wet dream' is and I don't want you to tell me. How the fuck did you know I was gonna say Peter?"
She laughed like a psychopath, throwing her head back until I had no choice but to join her. "Oh, my god it's so embarrassing," I wheezed, "I can't believe I just told you that."
"I can't believe it took you so long to tell me!" She cried, "Are you kidding me? God, I thought you were like stunted or something."
"What? Why?"
"I mean, come on," She paused to take another sip of her drink, "Have you seen Peter? I just thought you were really stunted sexually. How could you spend hours upon hours in close contact with him and not dream about him? I never told you this, but I was so, so jealous when I found out you got to train with him. I would literally kill like five people for that opportunity."
"Five people? Really? It's definitely not worth five people," I chuckled, "I don't even dream about him like that anymore, anyways. Not since we fell out." I took another sip of my drink, "Okay, I'm done. That was my embarrassing fact. Which you won't ever tell anyone or I will wring your neck, by the way. Now it's your turn."
"Hm, okay," She paused, eyes going far away as she thought of a secret. "This one is kind of bad."
"It's a good thing I'm very openminded, then."
"So... You know Four, right?" She asked. I nodded. "Well, I mean, obviously you know her. So I'm allowed music privileges since I'm older and 'well-behaved.' I have this little device called a walkman which lets me listen to these tapes with music like... encrypted into them. I don't really know how it works. Anyways, so Four has access to music, too. A few months before you arrived, Four and I got in this big fight because one of my favorite tapes went missing and I knew she took it. I could have sworn, because I left it at the table we used to sit at." She paused, taking a deep breath.
"Now it's your turn to hurry up," I mused.
"Okay. It's bad though. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh, my god just tell the story."
"Fine, fine," She hissed, "So, I knew she took my tape, right? One day during free time, I may or may not have snuck into her room and destroyed every single one of her tapes as revenge. And then-- this is where it gets even worse-- I found the missing tape later that night, and it was just under my bed. I forgot that I put it there, and I never confessed to ruining her tapes. Ever. Obviously she thinks it's me but I will deny it until the day I die--."
Suddenly, the kitchen doors burst open. Six immediately paused her story as we hurriedly jumped from our spots on the counter. "Oh, shit," I whispered to her, watching the doors swing of their hinges. I expected an orderly to come in any second and shout at us for breaking into the kitchen. Oh, what sort of punishment would we get for this? Probably reduced free time and... no, no. We wouldn't get tased solely for stealing some soda. Unless it was like a three strikes and you're out sort of system. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Instead of an orderly or a guard, though, Two came in. Trailing behind him was Four. We stared at one another for a few moments, standing utterly still. They glared at me with a brand of fury I almost couldn't put into words. Cold, unbridled determination practically seeped from their pores. I could feel Six tensing beside me, and then my stomach dropped. They said they were going to kill me. And from the look on their faces, that's exactly what they planned to do.
I wasn't sure who moved first. Everything sort of blended together. Each body was springing into action at once, and then a force I couldn't see was pushing me against the wall. I heard a strangled cry uttered from Six's lips. My heart hammered in my chest as I desperately reached for the electric pulse I'd once been able to harness so easily. I was out of practice, though. Two weeks had gone by without so much as a whisper from my revered abilities. Without any real, decent sleep, I was weaker than usual. Two and Four didn't seem to have that problem as they fought with the vicious, predatory finesse of someone who had been training their whole lives.
The breath was expelled from my lungs as the pressure on my body grew. At any moment, I almost expected to break through the wall. I gasped for air like a fish out of water. "Stop!" I shouted, eyes bulging out of my skull. Desperation and fear intermingled in my gut until whatever clear-headedness I once possessed was completely obliterated.
"We warned you," Two whispered, taking a step closer. The lights above us flashed violently as the four of us, all armed with unthinkable power, grappled to take the other down before they could access it. My vision swarmed. The pressure was unbearable. I couldn't breathe.
Four and Six stared at one another, veins popping from the invisible battle they waged against one another. The cabinets slammed open and closed as one light exploded after the other. Complete and utter chaos unfolded no matter where I looked.
"Stop," I cried, "I can't--" I paused, gasping, "I can't breathe you fucking asshole!"
I fought with all of my strength, exerting each and every muscle in my body to absolutely no avail. I couldn't move so much as a finger away from the wall. "Sixteen!" Six's voice screamed from across the room as she thrusted a hand towards Two. His eyes went wide with surprise and stumbled back. "Use your abilities, Sixteen--" A knife whizzed past her head, one Four had found in one of the drawers, "--Fuck!"
"I can't!" I screamed, snapping my head in every direction, desperately searching for something to defend myself with. Six had me covered, through, holding up two fingers and making the knife pause midair. "I haven't slept in like three day, I'm fucking exhausted!"
"Okay, okay," Six gasped as Four took control of the knife once again, slicing her arm. "You bitch!" She shouted, thrusting another hand forward and sending Four to the ground, "Catch!" Six cried, and the knife was barreling in my direction. I gasped, raising my hand just in time to wrap my fingers around it's cold, metal handle. Two was standing by now, and with no other option, I lunged towards him, pushing him to the ground all over again. My body hummed with adrenaline as I kicked him in the ribs, but it barely deterred him.
His retaliation was swift and brutal. He took control of the knife with a force I couldn't possibly fight against, burrowing it into my left arm. A yell escaped my throat as I stumbled back, holding my shaking arm to my side. "Oh, fuck!" I gasped, "Fuck. What the fuck!?" Blood seeped from the wound, but my entire body was numb. It must have been the adrenaline. He pulled the knife back all over again, wrenching it from my arm. I screamed bloody murder, but his face was the picture of calm as he thrusted his hand forward and burrowed the blade into my calf.
I stumbled backward, knocking into the cabinets this time. I desperately felt around with my right arm until my fingers made contact with what I assumed was a pan. With no other option, I swung at Two with all of my might, catching him in the ribs again. He let out a sharp cry, dazed for just a moment. I walked closer, prepared to take another swing, but I was loosing blood. Fast. He must have punctured an artery.
My vision swarmed. My entire body swayed. A dull throb echoed through my limbs, sourced from the two stab wounds which ceaselessly bled like a crimson river. Six was against the wall, having been caught off guard by Four after helping me.
Two walked with the beginning of a limp, but he was nowhere near incapacitated. Murderous rage twisted his face into something I could only describe as demonic. "Say a word about this to anyone," He seethed, eyes flitting between Six and I, "And I'll kill both of you. What we're doing now-- this is a mercy. You can only imagine what it would be like to die without our graciousness."
He jutted another hand towards me. I caught Six's wide, frightened doe-eyes just before I smashed into the wall. My head slammed into the tile, and everything paused. A loud, high pitched ringing filled my ears. I wanted to fight, I didn't want to be weak, but I couldn't even think anymore. All I knew was a sharp, bright pain that grew from a throb to a torturous, erratic heartbeat all over my body.
Blood stained the tile where my head had been.
Everything went black.
AHHHHH GUYS THIS CHAPTER IS SO SO CRAZY OMG I LOVED WRITING IT WOOOOOOO
I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING; WHY THE CAPS? BECAUSE ITS THAT KIND OF CHAPTER. THIS CHAPTER REQUIRES CAPS. (at the end tho)
NEXT CHAPTER IS IN PETER'S POV!!! WOOOOO!!!WOOOOO!! PARTY PARTY
I LOVE YOU FOR READING MY SHIT! COMMENT OR I WILL CRY SO HARD!!