Papa Loves Me

by solangewrites

Dark fic containing every sort of evil. Experiment Eleven has spent her whole life confined in the lab. She has never dreamed of anything else. Papa wouldn't allow it. But one day, someone new comes. A boy. Eleven must question everything she thought she knew, including the primary tenet of her life- Papa.

3. December 25th, 1981

December 25th, 1981.

10

I am cold. The edge of the bed, a sharp metal presses into my thighs. I shiver. Food is late. I have been waiting longer than normal. Today has not been normal. Papa did not come. There were no men in coats to make me do things. It has just been me.

I shift where I sit. Did I something wrong? Is that why there is no food? My lip trembles slightly and I swallow. I have tried so hard to be good. To make Papa happy. I have done everything the men in coats have asked, I have eaten all the food, even when it is cold and does not taste good, I have held still when they gave me shots.

The door creaks open and Papa enters. My throat clenches slightly. Maybe it is a special day! A while ago, when all the men seemed taller, and I filled up less of the bed, there was a special day. Papa gave me a white and red stick that tasted sweet and spicy to my mouth. None of the men were there that day. Papa smiled and patted my head. I liked that day.

"Hello Eleven." Papa smiles at me and my spirits lift.

"Papa."

"I've got a present for you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small book covered in bright shapes. I've seen things like that before. I know shapes, colors, and numbers very well.

He hands the book to me and I look it over.

"It's a coloring book. There are shapes on the inside that you fill in with whatever color you wish." He hands me three small sticks in red, yellow, and blue. I open the book. It's full of pictures, of shapes. It is beautiful.

"Thank you Papa." I set the book down beside me. He probably wants me to do something now.

"Don't you want to color, Eleven?" He sits on the bed besides me and I stiffen slightly. He places the book on my lap, his hand lingering for a minute, before he pats my thigh gently.

I open the book and start filling in a triangle with red, aware of his hand on me. Slowly, though, I relax. He's just being nice.

After a little while, Papa stands up and I set the book down.

"Kiss Papa goodbye." He commands, and I obey. His skin is hot and wrinkled as always but I am firm in placing my lips against his. Papa has been kind today, and so will I.

"Goodbye Papa." I say, sitting back down on my bed.

"Goodnight Eleven."