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.

18. November 2nd, 1984

November 2nd, 1984

14

It feels like an eternity that I lie in the bad room. It is like the bath, but worse. It is a dark brown, a color that seems to suck me away from me. The walls are perpetually cold, icier even than my hands. They almost burn to touch, they are so cold.

But it is not quiet in here. There is a drumming, beating fast and persistent. Always there in the corner of my mind. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap until I cover my ears and start counting loudly to myself. My eyes clench shut when I see a rivulet of blood streaming down my thigh, staining my torn gown.

"I will be good. I will be good. I am good. I can do good. I will be good. I will love Papa. Papa will love me. I will be good." I chant feverishly to myself as if this will make the words come true.

I start to feel weaker as blood continues to seep out of me. I rest my head on the floor despite the nasty goosebumps it causes on my flesh.

I thought 'goosebumps' was a funny word. I got them once when Mike touched my arm accidently. He wasn't cold though. No, he was very, very warm. Like sunshine. And smiles.

"What is… goosebumps?" I had asked, nose wrinkling in confusion. That was an odd word.

"They're these little dots you get on your skin. When, you're cold, or, um nervous or something." He chuckled.

"Why called that?"

"Because there are little geese under your skin and when you experience a strong emotion, they want to help out. Those are their little beaks poking up under your skin."

I guess I looked frightened at that, swatting at my skin, trying to keep the geese from poking out of me.

"No, no, I was joking El. There aren't actually geese in you. It's just, uh, your hair follicles pulling up. It's totally safe."

"Oh." I considered my arm for a minute, the small dots. Then I smiled a little. "You are goose." He looked surprised at that, my feeble attempt to joke.

"Uh, yeah. Now, um, lets move on to division…"

I smile faintly at the memory. Mike is so kind. But he is weak. That's what Papa would say. He can't fight or make people do things like Troy or Papa. He can't even squish cans and move things like I can.

My eyelids flutter and my stomach roils. I try to sit up, but I cannot. Smelly white ooze leaks out of the side of my mouth. I choke on it and it sprays across the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut. I may not be able to get rid of the stench, the cold, or the everpresent drumming, but I can clear my mind of the nasty brown walls.

Sleep. Sleep is a familiar friend of mine. Always there for me.