Freckles & Curls | MILEVEN AU

fifteen - no more darkness

song - Atlas : Two by Sleeping At Last

~"Tell me, is something wrong?
If something's wrong you can count on me
You know I'll take my heart clean apart
If it helps yours beat"~

It felt like she was drowning, slowly choking on her own breathe. She was trapped underneath waters that she could not get out of, unable to find the strength to rise to the surface. Cruel hands kept her from reaching out for air, dragging her back down as if she would never make it back up to the world that she knew. 

"You will be a good girl, won't you?" he asked gently, eyes boring into hers. "You will listen to your Papa and find this man. I need you to use your gift, Eleven."

She was no more than a small child, hair buzzed down to the scalp. They had held her down as soon as her brown locks started to tumble out of her roots, shaving it down until there was nothing left. She cried, begging her Papa to let her keep her hair, the men ignoring her and continuing to grip her shoulders so that she could not resist. The hospital gown was too long for her, ripped at the edges from the years that she had worn it, never changed unless it got stained with too much blood from their experiments. They liked to call it her duty, something that she was born to do because she was different than anybody else. 

"Yes, Papa" she whispered brokenly. "Tomorrow?"

The man shook his head. "Now."

"P-Papa" she spoke weakly, trying to make him understand. "I'm tired."

He knelt down in front of her, close enough that she could count the frown lines on his forehead. His nose was large and pointy, eyes boring into her own like endless dark circles of pain as she tried to avoid their demanding stare. He took her hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles until she whimpered, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head. It went deeper than her skin, a dull ache in her skull from all of what she had endured at their asking. All he had to do was ask, to present her with something to keep fighting for. 

"Eleven" he spoke slowly. "What did we talk about?"

She sniffed, looking away. 

"You're different, aren't you?" Papa stroked her hand softly. "You have to do these things for a reason, remember? Do you remember why?"

"B-Because I'm special" she whispered. 

He nodded. "That's right, Eleven. We need your abilities and this needs to be done now. You need to push past the weakness, okay? We need to make you stronger."

"B-But-" she whimpered. 

"Okay?" he questioned, leaving no room for argument. 

"O-Okay" she cried. 

Soon enough she was strapped into a familiar machine, wires rough against her bare scalp to monitor her brain activity and concentration. There were men behind the glass wall next to her Papa, watching her with crossed arms as if testing her as the tape started. The recording was scratchy, voices muffled and she closed her eyes tiredly, enhancing her hearing with her powers so that she could hear them more clearly. It was still something that she could not strange, men talking in strange words that she could not recognize and before she knew what was happening, she grew too tired. She stopped, gasping for breath as blood dripped down her ears and nose with exhaustion. The veins around her cheekbones were popping out, skin turning more pale each second as if she had used up all of her energy. 

Papa was by her side seconds later, encouraging her to try again and she didn't know how to refuse. She had been brought up to agree, to nod politely and to leave no room for arguments. Her head throbbed painfully as she continued, finally giving them what they wanted with a small scream of pain, a guttural scream that made her throat hurt. When he was finished, Papa wrapped her up in a small hug, carrying her back to her small cell with comforting words.