𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫

69. The Curse of Richard Tozier

March 24, 1986

Richie bolted upwards, his shirt clinging to his skin as he woke up in a cold sweat. He looked around, his vision blurred. His eyes widened in shock as he slowly stood from his twin-size bed, it creaking as it did so. His body aching with every move he was making. Even with the blurry vision he was currently experiencing, he was able to walk over to the small cracking mirror that hung on the wall.

His shaky hand reached for his own cheek, he couldn't help but somewhat yelp as his fingertips came in contact with a small cut under his eye.

What the hell?

In the mirror, stood his eight-year-old self. No coke bottle glasses that made his eyes look larger than they were. His hair was buzzed. His cheeks were full. He didn't look like he missed many meals. His eyes still held happiness in them. He still looked new, unbroken. The constant trauma he would experience from Wentworth and Maggie wasn't there. He still looked like the little boy who had a stable home life, which of course was never even the case.

He looked down at his hands, his palms facing up toward him. No line was drawn along his hand signifying an oath he made with his best friends.

He pulled up the scratchy grey cotton sleeve up towards his elbows. No scars littering his arms from the pain he inflicted. No tattoo that was dedicated to the love of his life. Only one.

006

It still looked fresh, not as faded, the ink standing out as it lay across his pale skin.

He ghosted his fingertips along the bold numbers. It felt surreal. It was clear to Richie now that no matter where you were, in the lab, at your home, in a foreign country. It didn't matter at all. You still were property. You were still branded.

Even if you managed to escape, managed to be let go, managed to have those memories erased. Doctor Brenner wanted you to always know you were still his, you were still his property, you'll always and forever be his experiment. He still owned you. You were his pet. The cow ready for slaughter.

He pulled his sleeves down, then somewhat pulled up his grey shirt. No scar along his ribs, there was nothing. What the fuck was going on?

He pulled his shirt down roughly. He looked around the room, it was severely empty. Was he back in the lab?

He began looking through everything, he was looking for any answers. That was until he found a calendar inside of his pillowcase. He grabbed hold of it. His head dropped though, there was no indication what day it was. He jumped slightly as the door suddenly banged open, causing him to throw the calendar underneath his bed.

He stood up, his hands balling into fists. Doctor Brenner, or more so known as Papa, stood in front of him. "Oh, good, you're finally awake number six." His face turned up into a horrid toothy grin. This caused Richie to grimace.

He felt like he was back in a nightmare, only this was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. "That little stunt you pulled won't be forgotten." Richie's eyebrows were raised, his eyes wide. What the hell is he talking about? But then it hit him suddenly, this must have been after he attempted to escape the lab. "Well, you'll certainly be forgetting it. You're being replaced, six, number eleven seems to be much more viable than you."