"You know what happens when you don't cooperate, Eleven."
"I DON'T CARE!"
The man in the long white coat nodded to one of his companions, who brought over a poker, red hot and smoking visibly. The girl stared at the man defiantly, no fear in her eyes even as she was prodded over and over with the tool. Burns covered her legs and her abdomen, but that couldn't compare to the pain she felt emotionally. Nothing could. The pain in her heart numbed the pain in her body. Nothing mattered to her anymore.
"Eleven, shall we try again with the isolation chamber?"
"No," she said flatly, her gaze still unfaltering.
The scientist turned to his comrade and sighed. "What was the name of that boy, again?"
She knew which boy he meant, and her heart sank. He couldn't hurt him. He could hurt her all he wanted, but not him. Not Mike. In the six years she'd been here, not once had she been threatened with this.
"Michael Wheeler, I believe," he replied cooly.
"Ah yes, Michael Wheeler," the doctor sighed, a sickly smile forming on his aged face. "Now Eleven, you can either cooperate or we will find Michael Wheeler and we'll punish him instead of you. How does that sound?"
"NO!" Eleven shouted, struggling against the arms of the men who had been holding her down. "Mike is too smart. You won't find him EVER!"
The scientist stooped down so he could look her directly in the eye, and she spat in his face. He wiped the saliva from his cheek with his sleeve and stared at her intensely. "Very well, Eleven. We'll see just how smart your friend is."
He nodded in the direction of the door and the men lifted Eleven out of her chair kicking and screaming- which took far more effort now than it had when she was a child. She was nineteen years old now, but so very little had changed for her emotionally in the six years since her recapture. On the outside, she was a changed woman, but on the inside, she was still a terrified little girl. She knew better than to struggle as they tossed her in her cell. Once she was alone, she curled up in the corner as she did every day and wished that her beloved Mike Wheeler would come and save her.
"Mike, come back to bed."
Mike Wheeler sat in his bathroom, rolling his eyes at the whiny pleas from a girl he honestly couldn't even remember the name of at the moment. He'd woken up with a terrible headache accompanied by a sickening feeling in his gut that he usually got when he woke up with a stranger in his bed. It never felt right; though it had only happened three times prior to this particular occasion, it was still three times too many. His friends always pestered him afterwards, and for awhile he assumed most of that was out of jealousy. None of them really got much action, though Lucas and Will had both had steady girlfriends at one time or another. He resolved that this would be the last time he did something so meaningless.
"Okay, just a minute," he called back, running his hands through his tangled mop of hair. He stood up slowly, coming face to face with himself in the mirror. He could kind of see why so many girls threw themselves at him. He was muscular and tall, he had a nice face, and he was generally pretty nice. All of that wouldn't matter if they could see how broken he felt on the inside, and if they knew another girl who may or may not even be alive held all the missing pieces to his heart.
He walked back into his bedroom and reluctantly collapsed into bed beside the girl of the night-what was her name?
"What's wrong?" she asked, running her hands over his bare abdomen. She smelt of peppermint and cigarettes. It made Mike's stomach churn uncomfortably.
"Nothing, just a headache," he mumbled, rolling over to face away from her. He hoped she'd take the hint and just go to sleep, but nevertheless, she persisted with her whiny questions and incessant groping.
"Come on, Mike, pay attention to me," she complained, obviously pouting. He couldn't see her, but he could hear it in her voice.
"I have class at 7:45 tomorrow, I need to sleep." It was his ready made excuse; nevermind the fact that he hadn't once gotten up before 8:30 this entire year.
"But tomorrow is Saturday," she protested. Her hands wandered below his waist, fiddling with the waistband of the sweatpants he'd thrown on almost immediately after they'd finished.
"Come on, Mike, just one more time, I can't fall asleep."
Mike had had enough. He grabbed her hand and placed it firmly at her side, pulling his blankets tighter around him.
"You're welcome to stay if you want, but please just let me sleep," he said tersely. Without another word, the nameless girl got out of his bed and left, slamming the door on her way out. It neither bothered Mike nor made him feel good about himself.
The next morning, Mike emerged from his solitude to find Will, Lucas and Dustin sitting around their table eating cereal. Lucas shot him a look as he joined them.
"Next time you upset some woman, tell her to be conscious of the other occupants of the house and not slam all of the doors at two in the morning, okay?"
Mike sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Sorry, man, Janet was getting on my nerves." That had to be her name, it sounded right.
"Janet?" Will interjected, eyebrows raised. "When you brought her over last night I could've sworn she said her name was Renee."
"Yeah whatever," he replied flatly, reaching over Lucas' arm to grab the remaining bowl set out just for him.
"Look, we know you're upset but I think it's time you stop doing this, Mike," Dustin said sincerely. "You're hurting people, especially yourself."
"Yeah, last time this happened, the girl ended up crying on the couch and I had no choice but to console her because she was still here when I woke up to go to class," Lucas added. Mike avoided all of their gazes, staring into his bowl of Cheerios instead. He knew they were right, but he just didn't want to face their disappointment in him. That was the worst part.
"It's been six years, Mike. It's time to let it go and heal instead of covering it up with things that don't mean anything to you."
Yesterday was exactly six years. November 14th, 1989. Six years since the only girl he'd ever loved had been taken from him. He'd only been 13 years old, but the pain of losing her had lasted far longer than he ever imagined pain could last. Every girl he'd met after Elle had seemed dull, wretched, and empty. She set him on fire, while these other women couldn't even give him a spark of emotion. Last year, he'd lost all hope in finding her and gave into his own human desires, and it only left him feeling even more broken than before.
"I just….I can't feel anything beyond basic biological urges with these women. There's no love there, not even a like," he said, still staring at his cereal. "It's like she clipped some important wire inside me that's left me devoid of emotion."
"We know, Mike. I understand love completely; it's like no girl will ever be anywhere near as good as she is, or was, and you can't see anyone but her. I get it," Will said, reaching out to pat Mike on the back. Will had been with the same girl since the end of their sophomore year of high school and the two were definitely going to get married.
"But you don't, Will. You can't. You get to be with Katie whenever you want, to talk to her and hold her and keep her safe. I don't get to see Elle ever, hell-I don't even know if she is ALIVE. I can't even let myself grieve because I DON'T KNOW. Do you understand that?" He hadn't even meant to, but he was standing now, shouting at them all.
"I know I've been an ass this past year and a half when it comes to women, I see it and I hate myself for it. I just don't think any of you get how gut wrenching it is not to know if someone you love is okay or not, or if they're even there at all. I'm stuck."
His voice dropped off at those last two words, and he finally allowed himself to meet his friends eyes, most filled with a mix of pity and indignation at his shouting. He slowly lowered himself back into his chair, steadying himself. The pounding headache he'd woken up with early this morning seemed to hit him again full force, and he winced at the pain.
"This is what you're supposed to do when you're hurting, man," Lucas said, interrupting the stoic silence that had overcome the four of them. "You talk about it so we can better help you out. We all knew why you were hurting, just not quite how bad."
All Mike could muster at the moment was a solemn nod as he tried to push past the dull ache in his head, trying to remember the last time he'd gotten a headache like this. It had to have been back in highschool. He called home sick from the pain in his head that day.
"You know we're always here for you, Mike," Will said, reaching out once more to clap him on the back.
"Yeah," Mike said slowly. "Always."
It had been three years since Eleven last tried to contact Mike. Her abilities had expanded as far as telekinesis was concerned. She'd been able to access the thoughts of others, and communicate with them at times, or, as the doctors who'd been holding her captive preferred; force them to do and see things. She'd stopped before she actually got to Mike last time because he kept complaining to others around him of a terrible headache, one she was sure her intrusion must have brought on. This time, she decided she'd try and push through it to talk to him. He had to know what was coming for him. The men here did not mess around when they threatened Eleven; whatever was on the line was truly in danger.
When she'd tried to reach him last night, he'd been sleeping. She could tell, because there were no thoughts, no other voices. She'd almost had him when she was disturbed by a woman's voice talking to him on the outside. She'd been saying things far too intimate for Elle to take- it had hurt her to hear it, and she abandoned the task completely, choosing instead to sulk in the corner of her room. Of course he'd moved on, she had been gone for six years. She couldn't expect him to hold on the way she had; he was free in the world and she was a caged bird.
This morning, she resolved to try again, no matter what she heard. She sat now in her dark corner, focusing all of her attention on Mike Wheeler. She had heard no other voice but his, he was yelling, from the sound of it. It hurt her ears, but it gave her a light, fluttery feeling in her chest.
"But you don't, Will. You can't. You get to be with Katie whenever you want, to talk to her and hold her and keep her safe. I don't get to see Elle ever, hell-I don't even know if she is ALIVE. I can't even let myself grieve because I DON'T KNOW. Do you understand that?"
He was talking about her-and some other girl, she had no clue who "Katie" was. He hadn't forgotten about her, though he obviously had been with other girls, that much was clear from the previous night. Hearing him speak of her with such urgency and sadness in his voice gave Elle a new resolve. She had to get to him, and she tried with every ounce of strength she had.
She heard Mike tell his friends that he was going to lie back down for awhile, and she rejoiced. It was easier to reach people when they were alone and quiet. She could make him see her, make him pay attention. Eleven waited until she heard nothing but his steady breathing before she really tried to talk to him.
"Mike?" she called out. "Mike, I'm here, it's Eleven."
She heard an abrupt movement that sounded like covers being tossed off, and his breathing had quickened. He was asking himself if he was going crazy.
"No, Mike. You're not crazy. I can do this now-I'm really talking and I need you to please listen to me."
"Okay," she heard. Elle focused extremely hard again, willing him to see her standing in front of him, reaching out to hold his hand. She could neither see him nor whatever image she was projecting, so she could only hope that it was working.
"Mike, I am in Hawkins, I have always been in Hawkins, and the bad men are coming for you soon."
"What? Where in Hawkins, Elle? I can save you-"
"No, Mike-no saving. You need to leave, to stay safe, away from Hawkins."
"I am away from Hawkins, Elle, far away, actually."
While Elle's heart sank at knowing he wasn't near her, she was glad to know he was out of harm's way for the time being.
"Where are you?"
"Philadelphia, it's a town in a state called Pennsylvania-Elle, how can I talk to you again?"
"Like this, with the headaches," she said solemnly. "I-I've tried before."
"Three years ago," he said, suddenly remembering every detail of that day back in his sophomore year of high school. She could hear his breath catch in his throat as he tried to process it all.
"Mike," Elle ventured. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," he said. "Anything, please."
"Do you love that girl, the one from last night?"
"What? How do you know there was a girl last night?"
"I heard her," she said. "When I tried to talk to you. I heard her whispering things-romantic things." Elle had learned about romantic things during the one hour a week she was allotted to watch television, when she "behaved". It had not taken long for her to comprehend, only a few soap operas. People said those things to those they loved "romantically"- one of the nicer guards at the lab had taught her that word.
"Oh geez," he sighed. "No, I don't love her, Elle."
"Oh," she said, mildly confused. She was beginning to feel very drained from the time she'd spent inside Mike's head.
"Elle, I love you. I always have, and I promise I will find you."
"Can't talk much more, getting very tired," she said, trying to hold onto the last bit of power she had. Mike said he loved her, she didn't want to let go now, but she had to. "I will try again tomorrow, don't be scared of headaches."
"Okay," Mike said, the sadness audible in his voice. "I will find you, I mean it."
"Don't put yourself in danger" she sighed, letting go of the connection with Mike. It had taken all of her strength from her, and she sank quickly onto the floor, letting sleep take her.
Mike had jumped right out of bed, the piercing pain in his head gone along with Elle. That had to have been real, he was sure of it. He paced up and down the floor in his bedroom, trying to make sense of it all. The remaining men from Hawkins Lab must have gotten her after she disappeared from the school six years ago, and she said she'd been there all along. He felt so defeated and yet so relieved at the same time. She was alive. The girl he loved was alive. He didn't care that she told him not to put himself in danger; he needed to see her again.
His mind wandered a little as he paced, and he wondered what nineteen year old Eleven would look like. She had been so beautiful then, even with a shaved head, and he imagined she must be even more beautiful now, but that wasn't what was important. He had to get to her.
He hadn't been back to Hawkins since he'd left it in the backseat of Dustin's car after they all had graduated a year and a half ago. Mike didn't have much to go back to. His parents divorced when he was fifteen, and his mother and Holly had left the state, now residing in Chicago; his dad had been the one to stay in Hawkins. Nancy left right after she graduated high school five years ago, and she was about to celebrate her second wedding anniversary with Steve Harrington. The Byers family had moved out of the town with the boys, and they lived in Pennsylvania now, too, just 30 minutes from the university where the boys all attended school. He didn't know what he'd do or where he'd go once he got there, but he knew he had to go back.
The only trouble would be convincing his friends to be brave enough to come along with him.