The Mimic

168

A/N: Make sure you've read the updated version of 167! (If there's an author's note at the top, it's the correct version :) )

"You did so well today, sweetheart. Now, shall we get you cleaned up?"

Poison. Utter poison in every word that came out of his mouth.

Y/n's head whipped around at the sound of his voice, stopping in her tracks in the middle of the hallway. Many of the other guards cursed at her for standing in the way, some just decided to shove past her to put emphasis on the fact that she needed to move, but she didn't. She couldn't. He was right there, and so was a younger version of herself.

The man in the suit at a warm, fake smile on his face as he stood in the hallway, holding out his gloved hand for the child to take. His suit was pristine, just like how it always was. Not a loose thread or crease in sight. He was a complete contrast to the whole facility. Clean. Calm. He didn't even have a weapon on him. He didn't need one. He had everybody under his control, and his greatest weapon was the little girl that was stood before him.

The little girl had a puffy dress on with white socks and a bow atop her head, but no shoes. She was far from pristine. A complete opposite to the man in the suit. She was caked in blood. The bow was slowly tumbling off of her head, so loose that it seemed more like a ribbon. Her puffy dress was covered in rips and spattered with blood. Her white socks were stained a deep, deep red, almost blending in with the bruises on her shins. Her arms were littered in bruises, and her hands were covered in so much blood that it almost seemed as if she'd dipped her hands in red paint. Her face had tiny little cuts mixed in with the spatters of blood and rosy cheeks, strands of her sticking to her forehead in all of the mess.

She didn't take the man in the suit's hand. She stared up at him with big, watery eyes, a sad pout appearing on her face. "Are you sure that those were monsters?" Young y/n asked in a shaky tone. She hugged herself tightly for some form of comfort, glancing back at the room that they had just emerged from. "One of them started crying..." She frowned, her bottom lip beginning to wobble. "They said that-"

"Don't worry about what they said, princess. Do you remember what I told you about the monsters? They'll try to trick you. They'll try to be nice, and then they'll hurt you. That's why the only person you should trust is me." The man in the suit cooed in a gentle tone. He carefully knelt down in front of young y/n, copying her little pout as he pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket. "Oh dear, you know that we don't cry here. There's no need to be upset, my love." He hummed, gently wiping her face with the handkerchief. "You did perfectly. You should be happy. I'm proud of you." The man in the suit grinned, booping her little nose with his gloved finger. "Now, there's a warm bath already waiting for you. So let's get you all clean and ready for bed, okay?"

Young y/n hung onto every word that came out of his mouth. She sniffled heavily, blinking hard to try and get rid of the tears in her eyes. He was right, she wasn't supposed to be sad. She'd done a good job. The little girl nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. "Okay..." She whispered, finally taking his hand as she begun to follow him down the hallway, her blood-soaked socks leaving a trail on the ground behind her. She believed him. She trusted him. She listened to him.

Y/n remembered that day. Unbeknownst to her at the time, that day was the day of her first kill. And her second, and her third, and her fourth.

The man in the suit had still been training her not to be scared of the dark. Of course it had just been dark rooms with monster noises over the speakers at first, but he decided to utilise the fact that y/n was unable to see. He'd forced four people into the pitch-black cell, and convinced y/n that they were monsters. She was instructed to kill the 'monsters', and that was exactly what she did. If she knew how to use her powers, she could've killed them much easier and much cleaner, but the man in the suit wanted her to just use combat. He had to make sure that she could fight herself out of any possible situation.

Eight years old, murdering four people with nothing but her bare hands and a small dagger.

Y/n was frozen in place as she watched the whole interaction unfold. She almost felt paralysed. Outside of her own body as she watched the younger version of herself get manipulated so easily. Hanging on to every poisonous word, every smile, every gentle touch. She was like putty to him, and he moulded her into the perfect killer.

However, y/n didn't have the reaction that she expected. She thought that she was going to break down at the sight of him again. She thought that is was going to send her brain into overload. But it didn't. That terrified feeling had been replaced by something else. Something red, hot, and bubbling up from her chest.

Anger.

For the first time in her life, y/n stood a chance against the man in the suit. She had always been stronger than him, and even as a child as could've killed him in a heartbeat, but this was different. She wasn't under his control anymore. She knew his intentions, and she knew exactly what he had done, and what he was planning to do. She had the upper hand.

Y/n had the chance to kill him, and hell, she was going to take it.