Rusted

by riothenecrophiliac

When your appearance is changed, memory lost, and personality repressed by something telling you to Obey, what do you do? You listen. When someone finally notices something is off, who's willing to help you? And when the voice is finally gone, who is willing to trust you?

Bright. That was the first thought he had. It was too bright.

He. He was a he. His name was Eli. He knew that. He knew his name was Eli, and that he was a he. And he was alive. The beep beep of his heart told him so.

Wait.

Eli began to stir, struggling to do more than crack his eyelids. The more he struggled, the harder it was. He was... afraid. And angry. And he wanted to move.

Obey.

Eli crumbled. Not out of fear, but the lackthereof. He couldn't feel... feelings. Eli felt empty. He absolutely did not like it. Why were his feelings gone? What had he done? When--

Obey.

He understood then. Eli would have dropped to his knees and begged if he could move, beg that this voice in his head, this monster, give him back his emotions. He would do any--

Obey.

He would. He would obey, no matter the order. Anything for his feelings--

Obey.

--even if what he was told to do was messy, even if people screamed, even--

Obey.

--if his claws were sticky and no one would come around him any longer. He wouldn't question the metallic changes his body had undergone, or any other changes for that matter. Anything for just a bit of fear...

Obey.

That's all he had to do in order to prove himself worthy of feeling.

And of course he was. After all, he just had to Obey.