Sᴏʀᴀxx Oɴᴇ-Sʜᴏᴛs

Esᴄᴀᴘᴇᴇ

A/N (long, I know, sorry): Hello my fantastical readers! This chapter is a lot different than a lot of the other ones. I'm sorry if some of my information isn't legally and/or medically correct. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I tried my best!
This is based on headcanons by AMidgetMuffin  in the Sora in a Skirt Cult Hangout. I didn't get to incorporate the whole headcanon into this story, and I apologize for that!
Fair warning: There's light smut in this story, and topics that may be triggering to some readers, such as mental health struggles and death.
Okay, now that all's said and done, please point out any spelling and/or grammar mistakes! Thank you, and have a good time reading :) !

Sora:

I sighed, staring at myself in the dirty mirror, in the small bathroom I got. The cell-like room that I was given felt more like a prison than the home that it was claimed to be. This place was supposed to help, but I absolutely hated it here. I was sent against my will, but on TV and in the ads it looked so nice, like a happy place - but in reality, I was treated like a prisoner, kept in my room until the routine times I got let out, where people would watch me like a hawk. Where they tried to run tests on me. Poked and prodded me with needles, day after day, night after night. Until they figured out that me and... Me and my other half were dangerous.

As I stared at my reflection, one light in the small bathroom flickering from being so old, doubts started to fill me. "What if I can't pull this off... What if me disabling the cameras didn't work, and they're coming for me right now? Why did I hurt that man..." I began to mutter aloud, so quiet that it was a faint whisper. I glanced down at the worker laying on the floor, who's uniform I had stolen. He was out cold, a bloody lump on his forehead from where I had hit him with the pipe I had snagged from another "prisoner".

"Don't worry," a voice, inside my head or speaking from my mouth I couldn't tell, said. "You'll be fine. Take the key card and get out of here before they notice anything's wrong."

Gulping, I snagged the key card that I had left sitting on the edge of the sink. I tried to put on a brave face as I covered it with the hat that he wore and walked out of that horrid room. Thankfully, no one was out in the hallway and noticed me leaving the room. At a steady pace, not quick enough to look suspicious but quick enough to leave in good time, I began walking down the stairs and towards the doors to freedom.

That's when I felt my stomach sink and the color drain from my face: The alarm had started sounding. The red glare from the siren-like lights on the wall lit up the hallway more, and an alarm filled the air, followed by multiple people yelling.

"Patient 26... He's gone!" I heard one say frantically.

"Where did he go?"

"This is serious! He's dangerous!"

"Hey, you," someone said, walking up to me as I kept walking towards the doors. "We need all hands on deck!"

I felt the person's hand touch my shoulder, stopping me. After that, fog filled my brain. I didn't know what I was doing. It was like I had gone to auto-pilot, but this wasn't really a concern - it's not like it was the first time it happened.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in the hallway, the person that had come and talked to me on the ground, out cold. Maybe dead. My hand was bloody, as was the handle of the taser gun I had in my hand. It looked like I - well, a part of me - had bashed the guard's head in with it.

"Go. Now!" the voice in my head said again, and before I knew what I was doing, my legs carried me forward, bursting out the door at top speeds and across the lawn. I quickly hopped in a supply van that was there, pushing the driver out of the driver's seat and onto the ground, and sent the other tumbling out of the back where they were unloading supplies when I went pedal-to-the-metal and drove away.