A scream of agony filled the room, echoing all over the walls. Despite there being three people in the room, only one was heard because of how loud my scream was. I sobbed loudly, not use to feeling such pain before. Though I don't think I'll ever get use to it, the pain I mean. If it wasn't for the collar around my neck, my powers would have been used against my will.
"You should have listened to me, Ten. But that's okay. Three can fix you. She needs more practice anyways." A voice rang out through the room from the speakers. I know he's behind the window, yet I can't see him. Why can't I see him?
I look at my leg only to cry at the sight of it. It is bent in a way it should never bend. My ankle also looks broken, but it doesn't look as bad as my leg does. Never have I imagined my punishment to escalate to this. But then again, these people are different, way different, than Papa.
They wanted me to burn someone today. But not like usual as in setting someone on fire. It was important to them that I gained the ability to burn someone from the inside. It was supposed to be used for a torturing technique to gain more information on 'The Americans' according to him. But I refused to do it. I didn't even try.
Instead of sending me to the Upside Down, like the usual from both the Russians and Papa, they sent me in this room with two guards. I heard him order the guards to do something but I wasn't paying attention enough to hear what it was. When he did though, they closed the door. At first they only tormented me, seeming to find it amusing when it showed on my face how much their words hurt me, but then they hit me multiple times and this happened.
With a few words from him, the guards picked me up and took me to my room in one swift movement. No hesitance. They didn't even glance at me when I whimpered or groaned in pain.
Once they left my room, he and Three both came into the room. Three immediately got to work on both my ankle and leg with a blank expression. It makes me wonder how many times she's seen these kinds of injuries. If she gained her powers at the same age as I did, then I'd guess It was quite a lot. She looks a few years older than me.
"This will happen again if you disobey me. I've tried to be nice, but being nice can only last for so long." He says, Russian accent quite noticeable. I can barely hear him though because of my screaming from having her snap the bones in both my leg and ankle back into place. He looks at me with a fake look of sympathy before leaving.
The room goes silent as I look back at my tattoo. When I first got here, which was about two or three weeks ago, they immediately strapped me to a chair and created a line that goes straight through the number ten on my wrist. To this day, I'm still not sure why. Maybe because they wanted to make Papa angry that they stole what is his? Or maybe it's their way of marking me as theirs now?
Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation in my leg and ankle so I turn my attention to it. It starts glowing a bright green before the skin tightens, closing the opening of my skin shut. The movement doesn't hurt, but it does feel uncomfortable. Once it's closed, leaving behind a scar as proof of it being injured, she immediately picks up her dark green suitcase -- which I, for some unknown reason, haven't noticed until now -- and leaves through the door. As the door finally clicks shut, I just sit there.
What am I going to do?
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I gasp loudly as I sit up in bed, breathing heavily while looking around the room. As I quickly take my covers off to glance at my leg, the bed makes a creaking noise. What greets me is a perfectly fine and healthy leg, besides the scars that lay on them. The door creaks open -- wider since I still can't be in my own room alone with the door closed -- as Jane peeks through.
"Hey. Are you alright? I heard you breathing funny." She asks as she walks in. Her hair, which now reaches about an inch above her shoulder, sways slightly as she sit on the end of the bed. We're both silent for a moment as I try to calm myself down enough to answer her question.
"I had a dream. Or a nightmare. About the, uh, the Russians." I finally managed to answer. Looking to the dresser by my bed, I find out that it is 6:35 in the morning. Jane sighs next to me so I turn my attention back to her.
"I thought it was getting better. Why are you dreaming about them now?" She asks, grabbing onto my hands. The nightmares were getting better. I still had them but they were way less often, and they were never about the Russians. But that didn't seem like my normal nightmares. My normal ones had a reoccurring theme, like Papa taking me back to the lab or a Demogorgan attacking my friends. Sometimes I would walk around in a space like the void Jane brings me to and walk around for what felt like decades.
This dream though, this dream didn't feel like a dream at all. It felt foreign but familiar like a memory. I have a lot of memories that feel like that, but their from when I wasn't in the lab. They were ones about my first family.
Shrugging, I get up from the bed and bring Jane to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Once we reach the kitchen, I point to the chair so she can sit down while I make her some Eggos. I search for the syrup and my (Favorite Flavored) Poptarts in the cabinet while that's getting done. Placing the items on the counter seems to take more effort than normal, which causes me to pause and think back to the dream - or multiple dreams at this point.
This week has been filled with anticipation for what seems to be no reason. Every relaxed and calm step I take feels wrong, it feels so wrong. Like there's something that I'm meant to be doing, something important, instead of laying my head down at night. But I can't find anything. And I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to be looking for.
Realistically, there probably is something to look into. Like those Russians that kidnapped me. And Three. If that dream was truly a memory and not a dream, then that means that there might be more trouble than just closing the gate. The door to the Upside Down may be closed but it doesn't mean that it won't become a problem again. Though Three also didn't seem right to me. The number on her wrist didn't sit right with me. It was like that girl wasn't supposed to be Three. Which is stupid - a word that Dustin has insisted on me using more often because of "the amount of stupidity in this world" he says - because I don't even remember Three.
Unless, maybe, this isn't Papa's Three.
"Ah shi-" I stop myself - a habit I've gotten from being around Steve so much - as the toaster makes the loud noise to alert that it's done. For a second I'm just standing there, wondering why a noise like that scared me so much. Then I take a plate out of the cabinet, remembering now of all times that I forgot to grab that, and place them on said plate. The drawer makes a small screeching noise, that I'm more aware of than I should be, as I open it to grab a fork.
Jane makes a noise of amusement as she watches me drench the Eggos in more syrup than necessary, but doesn't protest in the slightest. Whether it be because the damage was already done or because she secretly loves that much syrup remains is answered in itself as she eagerly takes the plate and starts scarfing them down. Whatever it is, victory is mine. I just shake my head and drag a chair to sit right next to her as always.
She fills me in about the plan for Dustin's arrival today, moving her hands around wildly. It reminds me of how excited Will was to finally play Dungeons and Dragons with him and The Party again. I grin and nod along, also getting excited because believe it or not, Dustin's coming home.
The day he left were filled with tears and tight hugs from Steve, Dustin, and me. It reminded me of the day that Jane had to leave. Though he reassured me that he would come back. Claiming that, "I wouldn't be a good brother if I didn't come back." His genuine smile made me smile back and when he went in the car, waving goodbye, my heart didn't feel as heavy as it did before he called me his brother.
But now, Dustin is coming home.
He's coming home.
YOU ARE READING
·𝟬𝟭𝟬· (Will Byers x Malereader)
Science Fiction"Hey Will?" "Yeah?" "Do you know the feeling of being scared to tell someone something, because you believe that it will change the way they look at you?" The room turns silent for a few moments. "I'm scared, Will. I've always been scared, and I do...
