The White Walls //Eleven fanfic//

2nd Journal Entry

I am so hungry. It has been eight hours (I have a clock in my room- there's not much else to do, so I check it every couple of minutes) since I have last eaten. My stomach should be used to this emptiness, but unfortunately, it isn't. I'm so starving, I could break down everything in my path if it meant being able to eat.

 It would also mean disappointing Papa, but I think he'd be more upset if I was found dead thanks to his negligence.

I did it. I broke down the door. A worker was standing there, ironically eating a meal. He looked at me- I think he was scared, but if he was spooked so easily, he shouldn't be working here. He saw the hunger in my eyes, and tentatively offered the plate to me.

I threw him against the wall, sending the rest of his food onto the floor.

"Don't." I said to him in a soft yet serious tone.

 I don't speak much, but he needed to be aware that I didn't need to be given his scraps. I wasn't some stray dog you could just abandon and ignore until you decided you cared, if only a bit. I was able to do things myself.

Striding down the halls in a fast pace, I almost didn't see the worker in the hallway. He caught sight of me, though, and lifted his walkie talkie to his mouth. "Dr. Brenner. Eleven is out." He nodded his head as Papa responded. "Yes. Hallway B13. She hasn't seen me, so-" I cut him off by lifting my hand. Concentrating hard, I smashed the device on the floor. Blood trickled out of my nose. I wiped it off on my arm, barely fazed. Then I ran.

When I arrived in the kitchen area, I quickly opened the door of the white, cold box where they stored food in an effort to find something to eat as soon as possible. With the alarm going off overhead, I searched through the containers until I found something appealing. It was cut in a triangular shape, with yellow covering the top. 

When I bit into it, red oozed out. Shaking, I dropped it on the floor and it splattered, spreading everywhere. I curled into a ball and started rocking back and forth. Because the red paste looked eerily like blood.

"Eleven. This is Martin O'Reilly. He is a scientist who has recently joined our organization. He wanted me to introduce him to you. Is that okay?" 

Papa's words bounced in my head as I studied the unfamiliar man. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could sense that he was bad. Very bad.

He seemed normal enough to the untrained eye, and although I am young, I knew he would hurt me as soon as he got his hands on me. 

"Eleven, did you hear me? I asked if that was alright," Papa questioned. 

He didn't know. I could tell. 

"No." I whispered. "Now, Eleven, why is that? Are you afraid?" The man- Martin- leaned in. He spoke the last part in a mocking tone. That was a mistake.

"I said NO." I replied. Then, without thinking, I raised my hand and concentrated directly on his chest.

 As the red bloomed on his shirt, quickly spreading, I felt something warm on my lips. He collapsed. The color was drained from his eyes. Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I looked down to see blood there. Then I knew that whatever I has done to this man was my fault. And I would be punished.

I crumpled onto the floor and started crying.

"Eleven, listen to me. Eleven? Do you understand?"

 Papa's voice brought me out of the past and back to the present, where I was currently huddled in a corner. 

"What?" I hadn't heard what he'd said. "I said, you can't run off like that. Never do it again, do you hear me? Now, why are you crying?" 

He dried my tears as I pointed to the food I'd dropped, and the red paste. "Blood. Blood." I whispered.

He picked it up and brought it to me. I backed even further against the wall, fighting the terrible memories that were popping in my brain.

 "It's okay. This is pizza, and the paste is tomato sauce. It won't hurt you. It's not blood." I nodded my head. "Okay." When I was escorted back to my room, the worker wasn't there. 

"I'm sorry." I whispered to no one.