Inside Voices ▷ Bruce Banner | ✓

5 - RISING REVELATIONS

SHE WAS EXPECTING TO DIE. She was nearly sick at the thought of all the ways this man could kill her, of just how vulnerable she was. She was trapped in a glass box with no clear way out, and if this man was able to neutralize her serum from outside of the box, he could very well torture her from outside as well.

But he just kept talking with her.

"I don't know," she pressed, running her hands through her hair, leaned against the far wall, looking towards Bruce who was sitting crosslegged in front of the glass, his chin propped up onto his hand.

"You don't know where you're from?" he asked, and she shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her, and she didn't understand why she wanted to, only that she just wanted to hide from his gaze.

They had been talking for hours, Bruce badgering her with question after question, and she could hardly answer any of them at all, and there were times when Bruce found himself having to back off for fear of forcing her to spiral again.

"I don't remember," she said, because she didn't.

She could hardly remember much of her past, even in the facility, because while she was incredibly aware and had a vast array of knowledge, there were certain aspects that she just couldn't recall.

"You said they kept you in a container?" Bruce asked, and he looked pained, as if he was fighting an intense headache while speaking to her, and if she understood what he was experiencing and what it was like to speak to someone like her, she would understand why.

She simply nodded, however, because she didn't understand what it felt like. "In my room, I had a glass enclosure where I slept and was delivered my morning injection. It was bare except for the enclosure and my door where they would slip food in at times."

Bruce nodded along to her words, muttering to himself as he reached over to the notepad that he had sitting two feet away, apologizing as he scribbles notes onto it, and she didn't understand why he apologized every time he looked away from her to write, as if it affected her at all.

Maybe it did affect. Maybe it should have. Maybe many things, but at the current moment, all she wanted to do was hide, because her mind was working too fast for her to catch up, but there wasn't a part of her to hide and ignore what was happening. She was much too present and all she wanted to do was sleep.

But then she was thinking about everything that she had seen. All her memories crashed over her and she grew sick at the memories of all the people she had killed, the sound of snapping necks and bones filling her ears, so loud and vivid that she had to make sure that she wasn't hearing it then and there.

She thought of all the conversations her masters had with her in the room, yet she couldn't quite hear the words, only catching bits and pieces, growing sick at how flippant their comments were when it came to other people. She didn't understand how she still maintained so much of her humanity, yet there she was, with her legs pulled up to her chest, shaking.

She struggled to breathe, running her hand through her hair as she sobbed, no tears coming out. "Please," she begged, "I just want to sleep."

If she completed her mission, she was allowed to sleep for however long she wanted. This mission would never be completed, and, now, she would never be allowed to sleep. They would keep her there, forcing her to stay awake to atone for all that she had done.

Her masters were right; it was better to be dead than captured.

Then, "Okay. You sleep, we'll talk in the morning, I think more of the drugs will be flushed from your system."

She snapped her neck up to stare at Bruce who had stood, making his way towards his monitor, rubbing his face as he adjusted his glasses on his shirt, going over the notes he had taken. She watched each movement, how he typed onto the screen, how to sighed and groaned to himself, massaging his temples.