Chapter Twenty One
—-
The knife glinted in Yor's hand as it spun, a blur of sharp metal so close to ending the man's life.
She stood in his questionable business place, glaring down at him. He was mangled and broken. Bleeding from too many places to count. Too many broken bones.
The soft glow of red neon lights that bordered the ceiling, highlighted his darkened features. A bit of illumination to keep the room from total darkness.
The thorn princess had destroyed all other sources.
She was disappointed by how little she'd gleaned and she stepped forward.
"WAIT! WAITWAITWAIT!" The man crawled back, a lame foot impeding his efforts. A useless hand raised in defence. He was more afraid than he'd been in his life. The security of money, connections, and dirty deals, protecting him until now.
"DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE! I TOLD YOU I DON'T KNOW!"
Yor sighed through her nose, tired of how many of these ended pointlessly. She had one more person to check off her list after this, but she held less and less hope.
None of them knew anything of the director or scientists.
Was Kiara Mastden the only one? Loid and Yor did suspect she had more involvement than a regular client.
"Thank you for the honour of taking your life." She said, disregarding his pleas.
"WAIT—"
Yor barely moved as the knife flicked from her hand and lodged deep into his chest. He jolted back at the thud hitting him, and fell limp on the floor.
A dark spot oozed away from the injury as the Thorn Princess retrieved her favourite weapon.
"What a shame." Yor cleaned the blade. "I only have the one name left." She put away her knife and pulled out the piece of paper.
"If this doesn't work out, we're left back at square one." She said, leaving the building as she passed those she'd knocked out.
It seemed better not to kill everyone she came across if she could help it. Attacks they never saw coming, never mind her face, leaving her safely ensconced in anonymity.
She entered a dark alley and it grew darker at her arrival. A convenient veil to hide her silhouette as she leapt off the walls and bounded overtop the roofs.
The Thorn Princess was glad to be rid of anyone who could threaten Anya, but she would not be pleased if this went nowhere.
—
Becky took the sheet of paper the Professor had a student hand out, and folded it neatly in half.
"You have a week to have those signed and returned to me. You won't be attending the field trip if they are not, so don't forget." Henderson admonished them, knowing many of the consent forms would inevitably end up crumpled at the bottom of their school bags. The forms for dorm students had already been mailed to their parents, so he wasn't worried about those.
"Aren't you excited?" Becky whispered to Anya who folded hers into a plane.
"Mmhmm." She hummed excitedly. A bit absentminded as she plumped up the paper wings.
Becky had to nudge her in the side when the professor instructed them to open their books. The simple action, lifting her mood.
It was the best kind of warm fuzz that Becky had been feeling lately. A contentedness that buzzed through her, just sitting with Anya. She was consistently resisting the urge to hug her best friend every other minute.
Especially the last day or so as the energy finally calmed down. At least, concerning Anya. She appeared a little more relaxed. A little more adjusted than her first day back.
Becky used the contained jubilation to cloud over unwanted feelings. The joy and relief, the buoyancy that lifted each step she took, suppressing the weighing guilt that laid underneath.
A guilt that stemmed from a hurt she didn't want to pay mind to. A hurt that Anya hadn't told her what happened.
And it made it worse.
Becky knew what happened must've been horrible. Becky knew it must've been a traumatic incident. And Becky knew it must be hard to talk about.
Her guts twisted up to think that she was hurt Anya had said nothing, regardless.
Becky was her best friend. And Anya had said nothing.
Not a speck, not an inkling, or a clue, or a word of any of it. Not a single thing to elude to her whereabouts, her captors, or even just insignificant comments.
'No. She doesn't need to say. I should just be here. That's what best friends do.' She tried to convince herself. A wave of loyalty that trumped her own selfish needs.
Does she not trust me? A little voice emanated from nowhere. A tiny insecurity, more powerful by the second, that wriggled in anyway.
'I don't need to know.' Becky thought stoutly.
Yes, I do.
'I don't need to know. It's up to her'. She reiterated in strong denial.
I'm worried about her.
'It shouldn't bother me, she just needs time.'
Am I bad friend for feeling this way?
'Anya's back, that's all that matters.' Becky thought, drowning the little voice. She would smother the curiosity and guilt until Anya could bring it up herself.
She'd force herself to forget all that. She'd let herself enjoy being with her. She'd smile every time Anya smiled. She'd laugh every time Anya laughed. That's all she wanted.
It could just stay like this, for now. Becky could wait.
—
The hallways were darker than usual. Extinguished lights, failing to lift shadows that crept at every surface. The heavy metal doors, creaking ominously, though they weren't moving. It was the sole thing Anya heard as it traveled up and down the hallway like a ghost, reticent to leave.
She remained still in the middle of the never ending corridor. Unsure of how she knew it's length, when her vision was obscured by the blackness. A blackness that clawed and grasped at her, that bathed her in its' vile touch.
She couldn't stay here, she knew. This wasn't a place she wanted to be. How did she get here? Why couldn't she think clearly?
Anya inched forward cautiously and held herself against the cold lurking towards her. It didn't breathe it's chill on her skin, but she knew it was there. Could feel it in anticipation.
A phantom of a wail sounded in the distance. A memory she couldn't remember. Something of pain and exhaustion. It ran her blood frozen and she knew it should scare and seize her with anxiety.
Another cried out somewhere else, and another. Echoes of past terrors, she inexplicably knew had kept her up at night.
A thundering crack electrified the air and she jumped back with a gasp. Tremors danced from it, and walls rumbled from the reverberations that couldn't seem to fade. A deafening whack that made her sick to her stomach.
It slammed into the floor again, vibrations rippling through her.
It struck just out of reach, infused with anger and intimidation. She jolted away as goosebumps sprouted from the unsettling familiarity.
She strained to make out the source, deep in the shadows. A faint outline of a man engulfed in it. An impression that he was one with the murk and gloom, rather than a separate entity.
Anya couldn't see what he held in his hand, but she knew what it was.
No.
She thought, clarity of where she was, dawning. Of what was happening. A fog lifting from her mind.
No, she couldn't be back here!
She started to cry.
The man raised his hand. The invisible weapon, ripping the air in fluid motions. A terrifying crackle, slapped and resonated, that was louder than should be possible.
The single attack tore several gashes in her all at once, though it never touched her.
It rammed into her all the same, sending her reeling. Brutal digs catching in her skin that radiated pain and fire.
She couldn't scream as she fell on her back to the cold floor, unable to get up. Swallowed in nothingness that disoriented her. Couldn't speak, couldn't cry, couldn't make a sound.
The shrieks and groaning metal in the background, dwindled and she was left in a void of silence and darkness.
She wanted to cry out for her parents to come for her, to rescue her, but couldn't vocalize it.
Would they come? Isn't that what happened last time? Or did she never leave? Had she been here the whole time? Had her life outside the lab been a dream?
Anya's tears came thicker, trickling down her cheeks. She didn't want to believe it was true. She didn't want to believe her entire life was this oppressive gloom that choked and constrained her. The stretching void, all she knew, all she was aware of.
And then a soft buzz lit up her senses, dispelling the perceived vacuity she dwelled in. It lessened the intense quiet to replace it with building unease.
It grew louder, coming to hover over her.
There was a 'kachunk' as blinding brightness spilled over her. A great, big surgical light throwing her into new surroundings and dissipating the void.
Anya shut her eyes against it and it wasn't enough. The whiteness piercing through her eye-lids, painting them red. She would've used a hand to shield them, but they wouldn't budge.
They were strapped to a metal surface that was slippery smooth. The restraints attached to it, tighter than she remembered. Tougher. More difficult to struggle against. Her body, having a harder and harder time working against them.
Her eyes remained closed to the space around her, but she heard the voices moving about. Voices in discussion and consultation, writing on clipboards and fumbling with tools.
She was afraid to look in response, knowing who they were. Afraid to see the utensils that rattled and clanked. That cut and poked and drilled and did things that should never be done.
She heard one whir as if on cue. Felt a doctor pluck it from non-existence, the bit, rotating faster and faster. She couldn't help but look at it.
No. Anya choked.
This had already happened. They didn't need to do it again. Not again! Not again! Not again!
She opened her mouth and nothing came out. She tried to scream and curse, but nothing came out.
Someone touched her head and she couldn't shake it off. A band over her forehead prohibited the movement.
The scientist walked forward as he raised the drill to her skull.
Anya found her voice then, and cried out as it burrowed into her scalp. The grating of bone was all she could hear.
It felt an eternity before it was withdrawn, but it had to have only been an instant.
The blood ran down her head and he was somehow already on her other side, plunging the machine into her cranium again.
The pain was weird. It was worse than before, and also dulled. It was too much to handle, but also bearable.
When it stopped, the drill disappeared just as easily as it was procured. The scientist suddenly holding two, thin, sharp spikes that Anya recognized immediately. They looked similar to a nail if the head was a half inch thicker and an inch wide.
Anya stopped breathing at the sight of them.
The doctor smiled evilly and raised it, as if to stab it recklessly into her brain.
Anya could only watch as it swooped down towards her.
—
Becky had never seen someone cry in their sleep before. She was accustomed to Anya taking a nap in class, but this was new.
She watched the tears leak over the side of Anya's nose, and soak into her arms that she used as a pillow. Her face scrunched in reaction to the nightmare she was probably having as she repeatedly tensed.
Becky glanced at the professor who was facing the chalkboard, and back to Anya.
She reached out and lightly tapped her friend's arm.
No response.
Becky then took gentle hold of her shoulder and before she could nudge her awake, Anya gasped and bolted upright.
Becky flinched away as the force of Anya's jolt, rammed her into the back of her seat. She gripped the edge of it, breathing heavily, eyes shaky and unfocused. Her head whipped around in confused terror, identifying her surroundings.
"Miss Forger." Professor Henderson called her gaze to him and her sight latched onto his.
"Are you quite alright?" He asked her. His face was an unreadable mask, though he didn't sound upset she had disturbed his class.
Anya, in her alarmed state, didn't answer right away. Only stared like a deer caught in headlights.
The room was eerily quiet as the professor waited for an answer. As Anya gradually calmed enough to understand what was happening and for her heart to slow.
As if being brought back into herself, she blinked and turned to glance at Becky who worriedly watched on.
Anya turned back to the teacher and nodded in answer, though she very much did not look it. She was pale and wide-eyed. Tears still wet her face that she quickly erased when she realized they were there. She looked utterly spooked, and Becky didn't know how to help except take Anya's hand in her's.
—
Crap.
'Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap crap.' Anya thought, staring blankly at her textbook.
This was the worst place for her to have a nightmare. Where Becky and Sy-on boy could witness her weird behaviour. Where anyone could start believing something was wrong with her. Different about her. She couldn't have them thinking that way. It was bad enough as it was.
There was already the gossip she wanted to disappear, the rumours and the attention. The current situation, certainly not helping.
It was too easy a connection to make to the kidnapping and she wished she could brush it off. Would've leveraged it to her advantage if anyone else had taken her. Would've told stories of her extraordinary willpower and strength. Her cunning and ability to outsmart the bad guys.
But not this.
This had to pass by. This had to be forgotten. It had to. She needed it to.
But if she made a scene here, how was that going to happen? How could she pass it off as nothing if she had nightmares in class? Nightmares in the daytime? Nightmares that had only come in the evenings until now?
It scared her to think they would only get worse. That they'd never stop haunting her. That they'd continue to wake her up in a screaming fit that her Papa had to quell.
She knew he wanted to talk to her about it, be a psychiatrist and work through it, but she refused. Then he'd suggest she stay home for a while longer, and she still refused.
If she acted normal, then eventually, everything had to go back to being normal, right?
"Are you okay?" Becky whispered, holding tight to her hand. The seeds of worry, rooting deeper and deeper in her mind.
Anya nodded, glad that she had Becky to ground her, even if at the same time, she wished she hadn't been here to see it.
At the lab, Anya hadn't had anyone to hold her hand or hug her close when she had nightmares like she did now. Her parents would stay with her until she felt better, and now Becky was also comforting her.
It was something Anya didn't know she needed until she had it. The lack of compassion at the lab made it a foreign concept.
It made her feel bad to accept Becky's support when she never planned on telling her why she needed it. When Becky was feeling hurt by Anya's unwillingness to divulge any sort of information to her.
Becky had tried to hide it, ignore it, but Anya knew it was there and didn't know how to put her at ease.
She couldn't tell her. She never would. Even if it eventually made Becky bitter, it would forever be sealed away.
Anya flipped through the textbook with her left hand, the other preoccupied with Becky's.
No. She could never tell her.
Anya did her best to ignore the unsaid pressure Becky unknowingly passed her way. To ignore Sy-on boy in the back. He wasn't looking at her anymore, but thoughts of her trailed not far behind the words he read on his page.
This was definitely the worst place for her to have a nightmare, she thought.
It was very hard to concentrate on the lesson that morning.
-—-
Damian had never put much stock in rumours.
They were frivolous and usually untrue. Sometimes vicious and cruel, sometimes harmless. It was an occupation that, more often than not, was a waste of time. And he knew how much his father hated wasted time.
Damian wasn't one to argue with his father's good senses. But he'd been listening for them all the same when they concerned Forger.
He was running out of ideas and it was the best he had so far.
He'd heard the one that Forger was runaway royalty from another country. The one that she was an alien and was captured for experimentation. And the one that she was an escaped patient from a mental institution.
There were a few others, and they were all ridiculous.
Though he wouldn't be surprised if she was crazy. No, at this point, he knew she was crazy.
But he'd kept an ear out and half-expected it to never pay off. They were stupid rumours after all, what useful information could he possibly get from them? But he did it, anyway.
Damian stepped away from the counter and waited for Emile and Ewen to get their food.
He'd been zoning out more and more lately, withdrawing into his mind, and he did that now. He'd been going back to the basics and retraced his steps.
He listed the things he was sure he knew.
One: Forger knew someone was after her and he suspected she'd been involved with the kidnapper before. Two: She'd told no one about it, protecting her secrets at the risk of her own safety.
How they were connected to the kidnapping, he had no idea.
Three: Someone wanted her badly enough to expend a lot of effort to get her. Four: It wasn't for any obvious or "regular" reason.
And five: He was absolutely positive he was missing a piece about her identity. Something of her status even her parents didn't seem to know.
How her parents were unaware of it, he couldn't fathom.
Unless she had been kidnapped before and something happened during that time that her parents weren't privy to. He guessed her parents would've taken action sooner if they did know.
Ewen and Emile got their food and he turned to walk with them to find a table.
Emile mentioned something about emergency buttons being installed in the school buses and Damian put Forger out of his head to listen.
He wasn't expecting to be drawn into the subject again so quickly when he heard a student speak her name.
"Wait, that's Anya Forger?" The boy spoke, making Damian pause in his steps. The boy, pointing to the girl a ways away.
The student sat with his friends at a nearby table, a kid Damian didn't know. He was from another hall the Cecil kids didn't really have interaction with.
They weren't being loud and he only noticed because he said her name.
"Yeah? Why?" One of his friends responded. An invested Damian, wanting to know the same thing.
"Wasn't she found about two weeks ago?"
Yes, Damian nodded slightly to himself. That is when she was found. Could he actually know something?
"I think so?" The second friend said.
"That's when I sprained my foot and went to the hospital, remember?"
His friends nodded.
"I'm pretty sure she was there. A bunch of kids were rushed into the emergency room and went straight inside for treatment. I think she was one of them."
Damian had to have the gods on his side if he was lucky enough to stumble onto this conversation.
"What? How would you know that?" The first friend asked, taking a spoonful of rice.
"They were all wearing the same pyjamas."
"What?" The second friend laughed.
"Boss man? You coming?" Ewen asked from a couple steps ahead and Damian snapped his attention back to him and Emile.
"Uh. . ." He glanced quickly at the boys who were ignorant of his eavesdropping.
"Yeah." He started forward again at a swift pace.
Forger at the hospital with a bunch of kids wearing the same pyjamas.
They hadn't given him a pointless rumour, but solid information.
He didn't know what to make of it.
Authors note: I'm not in love with this chapter, and may redo it at some point.