The Reason I Run
Familiar in a bad way. Such a feeling hadn't come in a while (apart from the flashbacks and terrifying moments of remembrance when a trigger came). Merryweather was looking at you with pitying eyes as she secured the collar to your neck; you didn't know why but it made you feel the somberness dripping through both of your souls. You barely knew her, that's what you told yourself, yet you knew this to be a lie. Still, you were happy that you weren't outside anymore… Something about her reminded you that the sky was absolutely terrifying.
Six years before the escape
"Focus, Kuroi." His tone was like ice, all the former emotion gone as he sat you down on the floor of a room, "This is your blood, focus, and change." You wanted to shake your head, to never see the deep purple that has haunted you for months since it appeared and you willed it away. You were tired, face flushed and eyes ringed with dark circles; eyes red and itching with imaginary dust each time you yawned.
'I can't…'
"Do it, creature." You heart dropped as his icy eyes settled on your body and gazed at you with cold indifference. His green eyes were even more bright than yesterday, more blue than Merryweather's too… You were worried for him, he had been so different since they dragged him away; perhaps he really was dead like all the other kids had said. He used to read you stories and tell you tales of adventures and the outside world. It was so captivating when he weaved such legends of creatures you'd never see but he swore were real. When he was taken, the escapes had started for you and become even more frequent for others (though you were sure you still recalled someone taking your hand when you could barely even speak English and leading you somewhere).
"Change." It was a harsh tone and you flinched, the slap coming soon after and sounding throughout the lab. Merryweather was there in a moment, holding back his hand from shocking you to accompany the action. She kept him restrained until he was calm, eyes flashing with a yellowish tint for a moment before returning to aquamarine. She met your gaze with her own eyes, comforting yellow-brown irises without a speck of green nor blue; before enveloping you in a hug and carrying you elsewhere.
Two years before the escape.
A snarl erupts from your lips as she draws near, heels click-clacking on the metallic floors, changing from the sound of marble underfoot to a new brand of footstep. A pink pump comes into sight, your head jerked upwards as her nails dig into your chin. You can see her satisfied grin as you stare in one direction, eyes unmoving and body without purpose; slack in its position on the floor. Light flows in behind her, giving her a halo of false promise as she stands over you like a god. Your own dead eyes are staring into bright-green ones, half-lidded and tired as they simply continue looking forwards. You feel crustiness on your eyelids, filth coating your body despite the lack of dirt as you breath in the smell of your own breath and dried sweat.
You don't care about escape, about the open door right behind her. You don't care much for looking around or pleading for her to stop. You feel hollow after all these...weeks? Months? Who knows? You had long since stopped scratching marks on the walls after the, 'nail incident.' Not that you had the energy to do it now, remaining motionless besides a shallow breath; choked from the scratches at the collar on your throat.
"Kuroi." You close your eyes as exhaustion overwhelms you, she slaps you and they open slowly. "I have a job for you, pet." Another job? She seems to see the question in your eyes but doesn't respond, pulling you upwards by your hair (it didn't hurt anymore but she didn't like it when the strands tore).
"If you're good...I'll take you for a walk, okay?" Sugar sweet, honeyed voice that always met with hidden intent. Life was cruel, and so was she; this is all you had. The tears you may have cried once are all dried-up, there was nothing left for you to give, anymore.
Eighteen months before the escape.
What is this? The light? It's beautiful. You've missed the sun, and especially the moon's bright glow. She holds you by the leash, once an embarrassing reminder and method of keeping you tame; now it was just for show. Where did you even have to run to, and, if you did, wouldn't the same thing happening now simply play on repeat like it always has? Your skin crawls as light touches it, just another way of the world telling you that you were not meant for this. You don't like this place. You want to go back inside, where everything is constant, even pain is better because it's expected. Nothing is predictable outside.
Your breath catches, the feeling traveling up as a wrack of shivers that stay internalised. On the outside, you're still composed and you still look numb and in control but on the inside. She gives a gentle tug and you come to a stop. The woman steps in front of you, repeating the motion of holding your chin as she meets your eyes. Pulling a pill out of her little, orange bottle in a swift motion, it's pushed against your lips and down your throats in a mere moment.
"You are a strong creature, Kuroi, you were never meant to be scared."
'I'm sorry.' It's the only response you're allowed to give, mouthed out as you suspect that even if you had a voice it would be broken into whispered fragments.
"We'll go back soon, I promise, just do me a favor and walk to that fence, okay?" It's a comforting tone that you had grown used to after your submission. You break a little, snapping your head back and forth with frantic eyes. It's so far. She lets go and you walk with cautious steps that make no sound. Just get to the fence, the tall, metal chain-link, it's right there, just go. Go on, keep walking. You're fine. Your fingers reach and reach, not willing to go any further now that you're so close, stretching your arm as far as it goes. A single finger taps the metal and you race back, kicking up grass in a frantic struggle to escape this openness that terrifies you more than anything; there's too much.
She takes your hand this time, matching your sprint as you return. She looks proud when you're finally back inside.
Six months before the escape.
She's being oddly kind recently. You're sitting on the couch and still reeling over it. The events of today have been...strange, at best. It had all started when you awoke feeling tired, the world muddled by unfocused eyes and a pounding head. She had taken you out in the snow, thankfully in the darkness, it was still just as nerve wracking. Now you were feeling the effects of that stress, those cold breaths, that white powder that you felt you could relate to. Stuck in one place unless moved by someone else's will, cold both inside and out, always shifting and being shaped into something by someone else's hands or feet. She looked worried when she saw you laying there, no will to move from the cold floor that soothed a fiery forehead and body.
She had picked you up with gentle hands and given you a concerned and pitying look that you had only ever seen on her assistants or maids. It looked like it didn't belong on her face but you trusted her, as always. She would always be a constant in your life, even if she had been acting oddly for awhile now you were, at least, glad it hadn't all happened at once. She put you in a bed, a real bed, and put her hand on your forehead; not even shaking it off when you leaned into the touch. Touch was so rare when you were who you were that savoring it was a common practice for you.
Your mind strayed, leaving you wondering how long it had been since this change had started. How long had it been since she became your keeper? Since you had last seen the other children? Since you had become so numb? It was so gradual, days blurring by over and over again, that you didn't recall any particular date or memory. A cloth on your forehead soothed this mind-fire as a needle went into your arm, adding to the many track marks. Your chest felt less painful after that, enough for you to sleep as you had only just realised she was asking. Sleep came as her hand brushed your hair from your face.
Three weeks before the escape.
After that sick day you didn't return to your cell, sleeping in her bed becoming a regular theme as, sometimes, you woke up next to her. She would play with your hair and teach you the newer words you needed, training having long since moved indoors after a certain episode. It seemed to cause her great discomfort when you were pained, she avoided it at all costs now. You still didn't understand but were happy she had started wearing less and less perfume, a comforting scent leaking through that seemed to be natural. It calmed you, your skin turning purple on impulse and sometimes other shades in a content fashion. You tended to get more sleep as well.
Occasionally she would leave the room if she was keeping you from sleep. Talking loudly on the phone as she shouted at a man named, 'Gerchland.' Eavesdropping too a lot of energy but sometimes you dragged yourself out to do it, under the pretence of waiting for her to say goodnight. A ritual had already established itself, her giving you a sign of comfort like a hug or a kiss on the forehead; it was pleasant and you enjoyed it. She didn't make you go outside too long but it had now become a regular occurrence, 'Just a half-hour,' or 'Just touch that tree,' each common phrases.
You didn't like it but you trusted her. You would always trust her. She knew this every night she spent petting your head through a nightmare, the creatures once wearing her face as they hurt you becoming green-eyed demons. Her eyes weren't green anymore, they were just like yours before, a pleasant gold that warmed your soul. Yet another gradual change that you feared wouldn't last; when you pointed it out she started wearing contacts in the office. Why was she hiding it? Did it have something to do with those bottles of blue liquid she used to swallow by the hour that you now scarcely saw? Maybe… A purr broke from your throats and you flushed. It had been a long time since you'd made a sound like that. She giggled, continuing her gentle pats and seemed words of praise. Now wasn't the time to complain, really.
One hour before the escape.
It was like a scene from a novel; a cliche. She had left the door open, coming back an hour later to still find you there seemed to break her heart even more. She told you to go, to run, hide, to live. She frantically explained so many things it was confusing. How she didn't want this, how much it hurt to see you like this, how much she needed you to go back so you could both change. You didn't know what to do. She pressed a bottle into your hands, the orange one, its full and barely makes any noise when it shakes because of this.
"Gold, please, find someone to teach you how to live again." Water is dripping from her eyes, "You're just too kind and trusting for your own good, kid."
'I'm sorry.' Her voice is even more strained in response.
"I'm giving you this opportunity now, go, go and never come back; I'll do my best to make sure you aren't found again." You want to ask the what-if's plaguing your mind but she's already hugged you, drawing you in with a natural scent so unlike the harsh perfumes she once wore. She smells...familiar, just like your mother.
"Shentiss gahoung rosdansa, chensay."
(May humans never find you, child.)
She's a Vowthen too. You don't remember the name of your kind or but the language, even after all the conditioning, could never leave you. It snaps you again, breaking you from your catatonic state as you feel like you've woken up for the first real time in forever.
'Yaze?'
(Why?)
"Chergiss corspey, rosdanshar getroh demonn kethral, respon, Gorud. Choraka streru yasporstastiss."
(I finally know what it's like to care for something more than myself...I'm sorry, Gold, it took me so long, but you were so brave while I cowered.)
"Cheprt."
(Go.)
That's when your latest escape began. Forgotten in the swath of cotton balls and sterile smells as you ran. The pills, you took them until you forgot to anymore, the last of the medication once given via injections to make you forget. The bottle is now empty, lying open in the snowy woods. Her last wish was to make you forget her torment, not for her but for you. Merryweather...you would always thank her for giving you a chance to live again.
Her pink contacts were gone, gold eyes looking back at me, black sclera, matching your own, peering back at you. A flood of memories, so painful and yet so wonderful. You want her to stay so you reach out, she takes your hand into hers and squeezes, as if chastising you for coming back. Perhaps she thinks you missed her, you do now that you remember her absence. You depend on her just like you do with your friends now. You need her; you had just forgotten. She looks at you with eyes full of sorrow as she apologises over and over again in Vowthen; about how that was your last chance and the only thing she could do was hurt me again.
'Chergiss ru corspey.'
(I still care for you)
She cried so many tears for you, so sorry for breaking her promises, so sorry she would have to repeat history to keep you safe from him. So sorry she let him get so horribly broken. You wouldn't blame her for what she had to do, you could never hate her; not anymore. After all, she was all you had left to hold onto in order to keep living.
(Note: the first flashback to her stepping down the halls was five years before the escape).
Timeline:
Failed training with Gerchland- 6 years before Underground
Given to Merryweather- 5 years before Underground
First flashback in chapter- 3 years before Underground
Second flashback- 1.5 years before Underground
Third flashback- 0.5 years before Underground
Fourth flashback- 3 weeks before Underground
Final flashback- about 2-3 hours before Underground