[TW: graphic violence and mentions of self harm]
IMPORTANT: I'm changing Y/N's name to Josephine since I feel like Y/n doesn't really fit. Reminder: this doesn't mean you have to like the name, just think of it as a replacement for "Y/n"
"Now, Ten. I want you to find Mr. Ballard for me. Do you think you can do that?" Dr. Brenner slid a photograph across the table to the little boy, who nodded in compliance. It was his daily objective to find employees in the void to train his mind to get used to it.
The boy closed his eyes, searching within the darkness for the orderly in the photo.
"I found him."
"Good, now, can you describe what he's doing? What do you hear?" Mr. Brenner glanced at 010's brain activity being loaded.
"He's... talking. And there's music in the background," Ten illustrated with his brows furrowed.
"Music?"
"It's... calming. It's not like any kind of music I've heard before... He's laughing with someone." The boy smiled to the music.
"Can you describe the person he's with?"
The boy was silent for a moment, the muscles in his eyes tensed.
"It's... Zero. They're... close together. They look happy."
Brenner froze, his expression cold as stone. He stiffened his shoulders and eyed the orderly behind him.
"Music, you say? Do you know where it's coming from?"
"There's a... record player, I think. The black disc is spinning on some sort of... box."
"That bastard," Brenner muttered under his breath quiet enough for the boy to not hear. He knew where they were. "I thought I locked it shut."
He turned to the orderly behind him. "Prepare the control room while I handle this."
"Again."
The men in white plunged their tasers into Peter's chest, letting him convulse in the chair with agonizing screams. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his barely unbuttoned shirt, staining the purity of white.
"STOP! Let him go, please! Don't hurt him!" I screamed through tears as the guards' firm grip on me tightened, keeping me in place on my knees. I released choked sobs as my father barked orders of punishment again and again, watching with a stern but amused look. "Please, hurt me instead. I was the one that started this, not him."
"I should've known you would go behind my back with my daughter. As if I didn't see this coming," my father lectured under his breath, the room finally silent of the tasers. Peter's pained grunts echoed as he sat breathless in the chair. A guard struck him in the face to silence him.
"Quiet."
"Please, just let him go. He didn't do anything," I pleaded through broken sobs. "It's my fault."
"Josephine, don't—" Peter muttered before being struck again.
"I'm disappointed in you, daughter. I thought I told you to stay away from him, that there are rules in this place," my father snapped harshly with his head to me. His tone softened. "Why do you defend him? Was he not the one that watched plainly as you were being beaten—"
"Which were by your men. All of this happened because of your plans for power. Don't think that I'm clueless. I know why you pinned me against Two. You did it for power. To make all of those lab rats of yours turn against each other for your sick 'love'. You don't care about them. You care about their powers." I glared up at his shocked expression as the room fell completely silent.
"Did Peter tell you that? See, this is why I told you to stay away from him, he does nothing but feed you lies--"
"No. I figured it out on my own, don't fucking blame him. Being stuck in a building with you for eight years made me realize that all of this... is because of you. You never treated me like a daughter. I'm just another factor to your plan for power."
My father stared in shock, the lines on his forehead darkening.
"Bring it up to full shock this time."
The tasers plunged back to Peter's skin, bringing out more held back pained screams as I wept amongst the chaos. His nails dug into the arms of the chair, every vein bulging from his bruised skin. He dove in and out of consciousness, sweat clinging onto his skin. I screamed and tried to break free from the guard's hold, but it was no use.
My father held up two fingers, signaling for them to stop.
"I think he's had enough for today, I'm feeling quite merciful." He approached the chair and bent down to level with a now unconscious Peter. "You should've listened." He took a good look at the man he thought he had under his hold before he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "Take him out of the chair. Don't bother being gentle."
One of the guards grabbed him by the collar and threw him onto the floor as he landed on his side with a thud. I flinched, tears stinging my skin.
"Enjoy your time with him for now. It won't last long," my father muttered ominously as he walked out of the room. The hold on me was released and I immediately ran to Peter's side. He laid looking almost lifeless until he grunted in pain, coughing out specks of blood.
"Peter?"
He hummed in response, wincing in pain as I tried to sit him up. I put his arm around my shoulder to lift him carefully to his feet. He hung his head low as I stepped forward, his feet stumbling after me. I guided him to the hall, listening to his soft grunts with every step. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep myself up while having a heavy load. God, he was heavier then I thought he'd be.
"Don't worry, we're almost there," I assured, though it was more for myself than him. We finally approached the hallway of the orderly dorms. I recognized his at the end of the hallway and quietly walked him to the room. I realized that the door required a key card to unlock it.
"On my belt," Peter muttered after noticing my dilemma. I felt around his belt, finding his ID attached to one of the belt loops. I put it to the slot on the door and received an approving beep.
I slowly opened the door and hurried in, gently placing him on the bed with a relieved sigh. He stirred softly, as if he had fallen asleep. I examined his pale face, admiring every feature chiseled to perfection. The cracks of his soft lips were a dark crimson stained by blood. His hair was unkempt and disheveled, fallen from its usual perfect waves from the constant shock. I turned to leave when his hand flew to my wrist.
"Don't leave," he croaked. "Please."
"Don't worry, I'm just going to go get some stuff from the infirmary, I'll be right back." He reluctantly let go and I made my way to the infirmary as quick as I could. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Amelia still there getting ready to leave for home.
"Oh, Zero! What are you doing here so late, I was just about to leave," she asked in a superficially sweet tone. I knew she was annoyed and just wanted to leave already, which I couldn't blame her for. Anything to get out of this shithole.
"Oh, don't mind me. I just came to get some supplies. Where do you keep the stuff for bruises and burn marks?"
"Is something wrong? I wasn't told--"
"It's not for me, it's for a friend. Peter," I explained, but I then realized I'd told the wrong person the wrong information. But for some reason, it somehow felt good to rub it in her face as I watched the shock form.
"Mr. Ballard? Is he alright? If it's something serious, I should treat him. Where is he?"
"Don't worry, I can handle it. He's not in great condition right now and, uh... I don't think he'd be comfortable having anyone else help him," I replied, keeping my voice calm.
"Why's that?"
"Well, I don't know if he wants me to say, but he might have to be treated on his torso, and he wouldn't want to be shirtless in front of just anyone, you know?" I bite my tongue, stifling any signs of enjoyment. God, I'm a horrible person.
"Well I'm a nurse, I'm pretty sure it's mandatory that I help." She extracted some medicine and pain killers from the cabinet along with bandage wraps. I grabbed the supplies from her, forging a smile.
"Sorry, big man's orders. Dr. Brenner, I mean. I wouldn't want to go against his wishes. Thanks for the supplies, though." I made my way slowly out of the room, amused by her obvious disappointment. Yeah, it was a pretty petty move, but I couldn't help myself. I clutched the supplies to my chest, making my way down the dimly lit hall.
All of the guards have gone back to their rooms or to their night shift, where they would soon roam the corridors. I was close to his door when a voice called from behind.
"Zero?" I turned around, locking eyes with Warren. Great. "What are you doing in the orderly wing so late?"
He eyed the supplies in my hands.
"I just have... errands to run. What are you doing here?" I ask, trying to mask the startle.
"I'm... an Orderly?" Right. Well, shit.
He looked at the door I was heading towards, pursing his lips into a thin line.
"You're seeing him again, aren't you?" I sigh, rolling my eyes.
"Warren, it's not like that. He needs help, they tased the shit out of him. And besides, why the fuck do you care?"
"Because I like you," he nearly yells in a hushed voice. "I thought we had something. I thought that after that kiss, you'd realize that there's just so much more to what you already have."
"Warren, I..." I stammer, unable to form the words I needed to. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't, even if I tried. "I want us to just... stay as friends. It's better that way."
He sighed, turning his eyes to the floor. I could sense his obvious disappointment, but also... resentment? I couldn't tell in the dim lighting.
"I guess that would be best," he concluded after a moment of silence. His tone had completely changed. "But... don't say I didn't warn you."
Before I could ask what he meant, he walked off to where I assumed his room was. I turn back, sauntering down the hallway until I reached the half closed door. I opened it slowly, the minimum light pouring into the room. The door closed with a soft click and I entered to turn on the lamp by Peter's bed, finally finding light in the room.
He lay his back slouched against the wall, facing the foot the bed. I quietly set the materials by the bedside table, careful not to make a disturbance.
"Peter? You awake?"
He mumbled softly in incoherent words as he fluttered his eyes open. I sat on the side of his bed, feeling my heart sink further into my chest. He faced me with a half conscious look.
"Josephine?"
"I'm here. I'm right here," I whispered, echoing his words of comfort from earlier. "I'm so sorry Peter, this is all my fault and--"
He shushed me with a hum, smiling softly.
"None of this was your fault. It never was." He sat himself up straighter against the wall, wincing silently.
"I got you some medicine. I don't know if they'll help much, but it should at least relieve some pain." I reached for anti-burn lotion on the desk along with a small bag of half-melted ice. "Here, take off your shirt."
"Determined to finish what we started?" He grinned, and I frowned in response. He chuckled and started to undo his buttons until his shirt came loose. I tried to hide my grimace from the dark bruises on his chest.
"Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. It goes away after a couple days if I'm careful."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Peter. I'd be pissing like a child if I were you," I muttered, setting down the lotion and holding the ice in my hands. "Hold still, this is gonna sting a bit." I settled the ice onto the bruise and he hisses in pain, gritting his teeth.
"Fuck," he groans, bucking his head back.
I grab the lotion and pour a minimal amount into my hands. I inch closer towards him, examining his neck.
"Tilt your head the other way for me." He did as asked, exposing the red marks on this side of his neck. I brushed his gold hair away to apply the cream to his skin gently, though even just a tap of my finger made him hold back pained grunts.
As my fingers applied the medicine, I felt a weird texture collide with my fingertips-- a bump. I investigated further, squinting.
"Peter, what's this?" I placed my hand on the pill-shaped figure bulging from his skin. He remained silent for a moment, as if looking for a way to avoid the question.
"It's... a tracker. Your father calls it 'Soteria'," he muttered reluctantly. I paused, processing what he had just said.
"They planted a device in you? To track you?" I gasped in disbelief.
"He can also control it. Make me feel weak when he needs me to be. Put me in pain, as if he hadn't enough already." He stared at the wall with lost gaze.
"Do all the other orderly have this?"
He shook his head, to which I became even more confused.
"Your father and I... we don't have a great history. I was known for lashing out, not following orders. A barrier of distrust formed between us, making me an outlier. A scapegoat."
I didn't understand this at all. Peter seemed to be the most rule-following, polite prick I've met. Well, at least before we happened. And I knew my father was cruel, but to think that he'd do this, I couldn't grasp it.
"I'm sorry. That he did... this, to you. I can't even believe--"
"Josephine, I want you to listen to me carefully," he whispered in an urgent manner. "I can't let any of this happen to you, too. You still have a life, something to live for. You have a chance."
I furrow my brows, not knowing what he was getting at.
"You need to get away from this place."
"What?"
"You can't stay here and become what your father shaped me to be. I want you to live, for once."
I stare at him in shock. Of course, I'd always thought of leaving this damned hell, but to have it thrown at me seemed absurd.
"Just think about it, okay? You don't need to answer now. I just want to let you know that, if you ever need help with anything, I'll be here. I always am."
I nodded slowly. My brain took a moment to process his words, almost lighting on fire. Suddenly, I notice that the ice had almost completely melted and was now leaking onto the sheets. I quickly cupped it in my hands and put it in the bin close to the desk.
"Are you... feeling any better?"
"With you, love, all of my pain seems to wash away," he whispered in a soft smile. My heart fluttered and pounded in my chest. I took the bandage wraps from the desk and began to unwrap it. I wound it around his chest where the bruise was, earning soft grunts. While bandaging him up, I could feel his soft gaze on me never leave, as if he was starstruck. I finished the binding and made sure it would stay in place.
"Remember that night, in the storage room when I first saw you?" I glanced up at him, smiling.
"You mean when you were spying on me undressing?" He teased with a grin.
"I told you I wasn't spying. I just so happened to hear you in the halls and got curious."
"Sounds a lot like spying to me, love. Don't worry, I don't mind it." He tilted his head to the side, smiling.
"Anyways, this reminds me a lot of that night. Except now, you're not alone." I look up into his warm, smiling eyes, lost in his little ocean. He brings his hand up to my cheek, caressing it gently. My smile faded when I noticed a bloodied bandage on his left wrist, extending to the middle of his forearm.
"Peter, what's this?" I reached for his hand when he suddenly pulled away, shifting his posture.
"It's nothing. I just hurt my hand, that's all." His tone was firm and panicked. He was hiding something.
"You're bleeding. Let me see your hand."
"It's fine. I'll change the wrap later, don't worry about it." I looked at him intensely, worry washing over me with a pang of nausea.
"Peter, what are you hiding from me?" I spoke gently, noticing his discomfort as he failed to look me in the eye.
"If I show you, you won't look at me the same." His voice was soft and off guard, like for the first time, his words weren't confident. I stayed silent, knowing what would come next. I had a feeling that I knew what he didn't want to show, but I was afraid to ask.
"Well, whatever it is, I want you to know that I can help you. You don't have to hide anything from me." He looks into my eyes, softening his gaze.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," he whispered as he shook his head lightly. He slowly peeled the crimson cloth from his skin. The wrap uncoiled, revealing a bleeding forearm. The blood stained his gold skin and I gasped in a hitch of my breath quietly. I took a piece of cloth from the bedside table and dipped it in the bag of melted ice.
I slowly swiped it down his wrist as he groaned through heavy breaths, collecting the blood.
"Peter, these are recent," I murmured, trying not to look away from the red mess. Deep cuts revealed themselves from the coat of blood, some scarred and some fresh. The smell of iron stung my nose. So this is why he had flinched anytime I came near his left hand? Why he'd glance at it every so often?
"I did it to distract myself from... that." I furrowed my brows in confusion from what he meant, but I followed his gaze down to the base of his palm, where the scars were more apparent. A dark imprint was visible through the jagged cuts, covered in dried blood. I took the cloth to clean off the excess when I completely froze over.
Even through layers of scars, the faded ink was still visible to my eye. My hand trembled as I wiped his wrist again for a clearer look, but the ink was still undeniably there.
001.
My eyes were fixed on the dark digits, as if they'd change if I looked hard enough. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears along with the soft, never-ending sound of the air vents.
"I wanted to tell you," Peter croaked in a barely audible whisper. He turned his head away as I continued to stare at his scarred wrist.
"No... this isn't possible. He's... he's dead," I stammered, my throat suddenly gone dry.
"That's what your father wants you to think. But you and I both know the truth. You knew, even though your mind rejected the thought of it." Had I known? My mind raced, collecting every thought, every memory. God, I couldn't even remember his face.
"This doesn't make any sense, why would..."
I felt my breath shorten, as if all the oxygen in the room had been pulled away.
"Josephine."
My eyes finally met his, trying to find answers in the mysterious ocean full of secrets in his.
"I'm sorry."
I couldn't even process his words before I felt the nausea reach the back of my head. It all became a blur as I found myself running down the hall, vision tainted by tears. I had no sense of direction, but my feet semed to know where to go.
My hands pushed open the door of my father's office, not a care if anyone was inside. I found myself fumbling with the lock on the cabinet in a crouched position as I mumbled numbers like a madwoman.
"38, 14, 45, 38, 14, 45, 38-"
My fingers slipped from sweat and tremors from the adrenaline rushing through my head. I cried out in frustration, wiping the tears that blurred my sight. I finally felt the padlock hitch, and I threw it off without wasting a second. I opened the cabinet, met by only a single folder leading against the back of the container. I reached for it, partially scared of what I would see, knowing it would only confirm my fear.
I held it in my lap, staring at the label.
Peter B, Proj. 001
There it was. All the answers, fitted into one single tab on a thick, sand-colored folder. All this time, it'd been here.
I stifle my tears as I open the folder, finding a disorderly stack of papers and photographs, all in one place. There were papers in text and handwritten, news articles, journals. The Creel family murders. A paper on Soteria. There were photos-- mugshots. Of him. Of the Henry that I knew as a child, except it feels like it's the first time I've seen his face.
I started to piece it all together. How he always seemed like he knew me so much longer. How was always paid special close attention to, why my father loathed him. How he knew so much about 001 and his achievements.
A shiver ran down my spine when I thought of the mangled bodies in the photograph my father had shown me. Had it really been him? The sweet, understanding Peter I'd felt like I'd known?
A photo caught my eye. It was a little girl and boy, smiling in what looked like the Rainbow Room, before the colors had been fully painted on. It was us.
But for some reason, I couldn't remember the moments we'd shared very well. Everything between when I'd first met him until I'd met him as Peter felt like a blur. Like everything had just been... erased.
"Daughter."
I ignored the voice, keeping my eyes on the papers before me. I hadn't even noticed my father walking through the door with a bewildered look on his face. Footsteps approached, and I heard the hiss of clothes folding as he crouched down slowly.
"Were you ever even going to tell me?" I whispered, staring into the young eyes of my once best friend. He looked similar and yet so different at the same time.
"I hid this to protect you. He was dangerous, Josephine. A killer." I tried my best not to let the tears fall as I clenched my fists in response. "Didn't I tell you what he did?"
"What if it was out of self defense? You don't know why he did it-"
"I know my Virginia." I froze, taking in the sudden defense. "All the family did was give and provide, but that can't change what he already was. He had killed animals around the home, practicing, festering his powers until he unleashed them onto his innocent parents. He was ill, Josephine. Ill-minded."
"Then why did you take him in? Why couldn't you just leave him alone?"
My father looked at me as if I'd ask him to light himself on fire.
"And let him be exposed to the rest of the world? What would stop him from murdering hundreds more? Because I know that morals are already out of question."
"And yet you tried to grow his powers for your own benefit. You made more of him, more others that could be capable of what he did. You locked him up, expecting him to obey like some dog. You put a number on him and kept me away from him." At this point the tears had welled my eyes, threatening to fall at any moment.
"I did what I can to protect you. You don't even know the reason I kept him away-"
"Yeah, because you fucking did shit to my mind!" I yelled as the tears finally spilled, and I choked back sobs. Every breath seemed to take a toll, like I was on limited air. I wiped my tears with my arm and let out a slow, shaky breath.
"You don't know him like I do. I know who he really is," I finally said, looking down at the now scrambled sheets.
"Do you? Because it seems like you just figured out what kind of person he is, after thinking of him like some sort of saint." My father stared sternly and stood from his crouched position. "Everything I do, everything I say, is for your own good. You may not realize it, but I'm just trying to be a father for you."
Something in me set off, like a trigger in a pistol. I shot my head in his direction with furrowed brows from disbelief.
"A father? Is this what fathers do, lock up their children in some sort of sick lab that does experiments on children? Do fathers try to alter their child's memories to 'protect' them? What kind of fucking dystopian fantasy did you grow up in to get this idea?"
He drew in a sharp breath, locking his beady eyes with mine. I stood, dropping the folder but keeping a photograph in my hand, sliding it into the pocket of my gown carefully while keeping eye contact. I brushed past him with stinging eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
The walk down the halls was a quiet one. Everyone was either asleep or on duty. I felt the polaroid in my gown as if it would just disappear. Like Henry had.
I found myself making circles around the halls, stalling time. I could have gone back to my room, but something told me I needed to return to his. That I owed it to him.
I finally approached his door, which had been left slightly ajar like I had left it. I opened it quietly and slipped inside, careful not to make a noise.
His shirt that had been on his bed was gone, and so was he. There was an emptiness to his room, like without him, it was just a room. It was just a containment, just a bed, just a building. Just an ordinary place in the most unordinary setting.
The sheets felt soft in my hands, thin and sheer like the gown over my skin. I slipped myself onto the mattress, not bothering to lift the covers over my body. I thought of all the hints that I had missed, that I was ignorant of. How his wrist was always covered tightly by his sleeve. How he nervously glanced at my father every so often. The knock.
Time slowly distorted into nothing as my lids grew heavier and heavier. My skin felt numb from the cold air tightening around it. Everything felt like nothing.
6 hours later
I woke up with dry eyes and numb lips. My hair felt hot and sticky to my skin. The covers were neatly coated on me, sheltering the rest of my body from the cool air.
The bathroom door was now open, but empty.
I stood from the bed, feeling nauseous and uneasy. Everything felt like it had been spinning when I was the only one standing still. My limbs were stiff as I made my way over to the bathroom. With a sudden lurch, I perched myself over the toilet as I hurled and coughed. The bitter taste of vomit stung my tongue.
As matter left me, memories came in like a bat to my head. The flashing "001" plastered into bloody skin flooded my sight. I normally don't flinch at the sight of blood, but this time it felt like swallowing a rock. My vision blurred and I felt empty and frail.
I flushed the toilet and leaned against the sink with whatever strength I had and looked into the mirror. I looked horrible.
Dark, almost red bags accentuated my undereyes, and my hair looked overheated and out of place. I looked pale, malnourished. I quickly washed my mouth out along with my face.
My eyes wandered to the bin next to the sink. There was nothing in it except for piles of bandages stained with dried blood. Some looked more recent than others.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden alarm coming from the bedroom. I rushed over to the clock sitting on the bedside table, almost buried from disinfectants and medicine bottles. I heard the sound of feet shuffling and doors opening, figuring everyone was on their way to their post.
I slowly opened the door, immediately locking eyes with an orderly passing by in the halls. I could feel eyes on me as I walked out gingerly. Whispers surrounded me, silent but yet so loud.
I turned around, shooting them all a glare and raising my brows as if to say "What?" I walked off, flicking my hand behind me to shut the door with a slam.
It was then when the headache worsened, and blood ran down my nose from just a simple gesture.
"Fuck," I groaned, and hurried towards the rainbow room.
It felt like hours had gone by in the rainbow room. Four and El had taken notice of my unusual behavior, but said nothing of it. I avoided my father at all costs, even if it meant pushing past guards to get out of the room. Surprisingly, no one stopped me.
I walked down the hall, trying to clear my head even in the suffocating stillness of the cold hallways. My feet wandered down a path I wasn't aware of. It felt like I had no control over my destination recently, like I had no idea where I was going but my body did.
I found it funny, the separation of the body and the mind. They both wanted different things and yet created a somewhat functioning human.
I discovered too late that I was standing in front of the storage room. Surprisingly, the light inside was on. My hand was already on the handle, my muscles twitching as I hesitated to turn it. In a blur, I pushed the door open to find Peter crouched down, stocking shelves. His head turned to me as the door swung open. I stand there, not know what to say as the whir of the air vents filled the white silence.
"Hey," I manage to get out.
"Hey."
"Are you feeling better already?" I asked, gesturing to his torso. I could see the folds of the bandages beneath his white shirt, along with the naked bruises on his sleeve.
"I'm fine," he muttered, stifling a groan when he reached his arm out to fix a shelf. His hand flexed far enough that I could see the poorly wrapped wrist under the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Look, I just wanted to say that... I'm sorry. For running out last night. I barely even remember running out, it's just that my headache--"
"Josephine. It's fine. I... I would've reacted the same way if I were you." He grunts as he stood slowly, keeping his eyes on the shelves.
"No, Peter. I shouldn't have. I'm just.. I didn't know what to do or say. It's like I've been living such a fucking lie, and I hate not knowing things." He finally turned his gaze to me, his firm expression unchanged.
"I should have told you sooner. I thought that I could keep my distance, but I couldn't. I lied to you." His jaw tensed, and I could see his muscle twitch. "I wish I could just explain it all to you, but I know there'll never be enough time."
"What do you mean, there won't be enough time?" I questioned. I stepped towards him cautiously. His breath hitched, and a flicker of sadness ran through his eyes. "Peter... what do you mean, there won't be enough time?" I ask again slowly.
"They're sending me to a different ward. Across the country. Tomorrow is my last day." He pauses to let me take it all in. I stay in place, staring at him like I had heard him wrong.
"You won't be seeing me ever again."
My heart dropped. The world stopped spinning, the air stopped circulating. The headache returned.
Fuck.
"No. No, no, no, no, they wouldn't do that. Why the fuck would they send you across the fucking country, are they insane?"
"Your father says it's to help keep my powers in check. Make sure I'm no longer a threat." He averts his eyes from mine. His voice was low even in our lone sanctity of the storage room. I swallowed, fighting the tears in my eyes.
"You and I both know there's more to it than that."
He nods quietly. "But we also knew this would happen. That it wouldn't end the way we want it to."
"Peter, I'll talk to him. I'll do whatever I can to fix this, just please trust me-"
"Josephine. I want to be with you, you know I do. But we can't do anything. They've already set up a place in the middle of nowhere, a desert. A project. He won't change his mind, and you know that." I look down, feeling a dryness in my throat. This shouldn't be happening. Where did it all go so terribly wrong?
"I'd like to believe that in other circumstances, in another life, we could've been each other's end," he whispers, tilting my head up with his finger. His eyes were lost and dreamy, as if he were imagining every other possibility.
I stare into his eyes for the moment, taking in the familiar cerulean blue I feared to lose. It was all happening so fast, like everything had come from nothing.
"You should go. Training could start any minute." He lets go, leaving my chin feeling cold without his touch.
I feel numb as I reach for the door handle, numb as I saunter down the hallway in a timeless loop. This isn't happening. This shouldn't be happening.
This feels so... wrong.
No.
I wasn't going to let go, not again.
I race back to the storage room, catching Peter by surprise as I burst through the door, nearly knocking down a shelf. I pant, exasperated but determined. The corners of my lips curve ever so slightly.
"You wanna get out of this shithole?"
Phew.
Anyways, the next chapter is gonna be wildddd-
Sorry for the late post. I am a professional procrastinator.
Exams are soon, so the next update might take a little long, but we'll see. Join my discord server for updates and to rave about how hot 001 is: https://discord.gg/c7Dt7XgMBZ
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Writer Ballard signing off, XOXO