Chaos

Solution

*** Reminder that this is a +18 mature content, I have marked areas of raunchy content with bold hashtags from beginning to end where it should not impact the story progression ***

When we arrived, I cleared my whiteboard and started jotting down my thoughts and sifting through the medical records I had on file for anything significant I could remember.

My hand was still injured and bleeding, but I couldn't even conjure enough concern for the matter of traces I might've left behind. My blood was already congealing and flowed slowly from a gash along the side of my hand from whatever sharp rubble I bashed it on.

I noted down every mutation I'd ever had and the relevant stimuli for them. I was so absorbed by my work and theorizing that I almost forgot that I'd brought Lucille with me.

When I looked at her, she was sifting through the photos they had taken of me.
I'd left the lab records on my desk, and she'd spotted them.

Photos of my youth, drawings, reading and mutation changes. Some were graphic; they depicted moments of my desperate heat, my self-harm, the moments I spent in the isolation chamber being tortured, and my scarring. She probably hasn't noticed some, like the one on my hip.

Lucille's eyes teared up, and her hands shook.
I didn't want her to see those, but I couldn't stop her. I approached her when she'd gone through the last photo, which caught her attention. She looked up st me and the tears that had welled in her eyes fell down her cheeks. Her eyes were filled with pity and sorrow, she was speechless, as would anyone be upon witnessing such horror.

I met her eyes with detachment and gently took the photos from her to put them away before returning to the whiteboard. I went through the relevant ones and pinned them to the whiteboard where they referenced my mutations.

"Chaos..." Lucille finally found her voice and it trailed off once more upon approaching the subject of my suffering.

"Lucille, I'm fine now." I lied.
Once I erase those memories, I will be fine.

She'd gone silent until I felt her hugging my back silently and crying.

I don't think she was crying for comfort. Was she crying because of me? Did seeing me in those situations upset her?

"Um..." I blinked, stunned as to what she wanted me to do.

Lucille squeezed me tighter, and I could only stand there awkwardly and let her. There was a time I cried this hard, too.
I cried for myself and all my suffering.
Is that what she's doing? Crying for me? Not because she's sad?

I patted and rubbed her back with my clean hand. She felt warm. Whatever freezing tension that held my body and mind hostage, slowly melted in her embrace. I hugged her back and buried my face in her throat as she squeezed me and whimpered tearfully.

Lucille kept crying until she tired herself out, but even then, she was determined to see my plan through with me. First thing in order, she took my injured hand and had Artemis bring us water and first aid.

I absentmindedly allowed her to clean the blood and attempt to dress the wound. Before that, I licked it myself and watched the skin knit together with a slight annoyance. I should have taken care of it myself; I'm getting sidetracked.