Chapter Three
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Authors Note:
I accidentally glossed over something in the last chapter, so here it is, just a little modified to maintain the time-line.
And sorry about the mix-up. Was having trouble to getting the chapter to load.
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Anya hated lying.
But what else was she supposed to do when Papa asked her all these questions?
A few days ago when he had planned to talk to her, he got caught up in work. Then caught up again. Then fell asleep from exhaustion the next. He had been spying on her school for the past few days, but he had been given side missions he was expected to complete.
Now he finally had the chance to have the conversation. He needed to know that she was ok. That any emotional strain or stress she had, was acknowledged and dealt with. In the past, it didn't seem like she dealt with anything greater than the average child, but he's seen signs and signals since then that worried him. At first, it was small things. He tried to address it subtly. To take care to say the right things to gently nudge Anya's mental state in the right direction. It was the right path at the time, he thought. But her strange behaviour had been escalating, making him reexamine things she said in the past. He took it at first as flippant comments she would throw out to be funny. But the more he thought about it, the more he worried.
It was time to have chat.
He got out the paper.
The crayons lay scattered across the short table in the living room as Anya used everything at her disposal. She knelt at one end of the table, focused carefully on rendering Chimera's silenced pistol.
Loid wasn't planning on drawing with her when he brought out the drawing supllies, but she insisted. And he wanted everything to feel as comfortable as possible while they talked. Maybe it would help.
So he did.
The first question was of course, about Anya coming home crying off the bus a few days ago.
Anya chalked it up to being overwhelmed at school. The very thing her Papa had suspected. She didn't do very well in school academically as it was, so it was very believable.
That was her first lie.
Most of the questions were simple and easy to answer. Many she answered honestly. Some of them, Loid already knew from past conversations, but was hoping for more detail.
Do you like it here. Do you feel loved. Was coming to live here jarring for you, were some of the questions Loid asked his daughter when she came home from school. He asked them as casually as possible, a regular conversation.
These were easy. These she could answer.
But then he asked her if she wanted to talk about her biological parents. He thought it might fill some gaps about her for him. Or even just understand her better, which was the whole point.
Anya said no.
If she said yes, he'd ask how well she remembered them. And then he'd want to know what they were like. Then he'd ask about their relationship. What happened to them. She could hear him lining up these questions in his head in preparation. Or maybe as possible questions depending on what Anya said.
Anya coloured in Penguins body as she considered.
She could have lied. But if his next questions were any indication, there would have to be a lot of them. She didn't know if she could keep up with it.
He mentally noted down her refusal to talk about them, making Anya sweat.
He considered that maybe she never knew them in the first place, and that was the reason. But even still, children can have insecurities about their parents they've never met.
His fixation on her emotional well-being made Anya wish he hadn't asked to talk. She would've said no, but thought that would raise more flags. She decided to use this to make him think she was one hundred percent ok, with no issues so he would stop worrying and never ever figure out what was actually going on.
He then asked how she felt about other homes she's been in. The ones that returned her to the orphanage.
Anya heard the question before he spoke it and still wasn't ready for it.
She had been answering quickly without faltering, knowing what he was going to ask. She was prepared. But her pause was a sudden lapse in her confident answers.
Loid took note of this.
"What do you mean?" Anya asked, leading Loid to believe she didn't quite understand.
"How do you feel when you think about the families you've stayed with?" He asked.
There was a long silence while she drew penguin fins. Anya didn't know. They brought her back to the orphanage. They abandoned her. She wasn't even angry. All it left her was a feeling she wasn't good enough. That they couldn't love her. That something was wrong with her. Surely the same thing would happen if Loid and Yor ever felt the same. So she told him the truth. She meant it as one thing. But she knew he'd take it as another.
"Nothing." She answered lightly.
Loid didn't expect that. 'Does she just not care? Did she put it behind her all on her own?' Loid decided to put it aside for the moment and dwell on what that might mean later. It sounded like she felt nothing for them, which was probably healthier than being angry at them. Or at least less exhausting.
He let the air hang quiet for a moment, reviewing his drawing. Loid was not much of an artist, but his attempt at a tree wasn't half bad.
He glanced at his daughter.
"Do you remember anything before the orphanage?" He asked offhandedly.
Anya visibly flinched, her crayon scrawling abruptly to the corner of the page.
Loid noticed. It was hard not to.
Silence.
She didn't know how to respond. She couldn't. Her throat closed up, as if telling her what she already knew. Don't say a word.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." He offered quietly, distressed at her reaction.
'Deflect, deflect, deflect.' She thought desperately, 'Papa can't suspect!'. But she was frozen, her mouth not speaking. Her body not responding. It was a question she didn't hear him prepare beforehand. She wasn't ready for it. She didn't want to be. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to remember. She worked so hard to put them away. In boxes that wouldn't be opened ever again. But now she was looking at those boxes, unable to turn away from them. They refused to stay sealed. And as if the act of trying to forget them forced her to remember, they started to leak out.
Unbidden, memories perforated her thoughts, images from the depths of her fears.
The needles.
The chair that Anya was always too small for. Sitting in a white sterile room filled with syringes, scalpels, and tools that cut into bone.
The scientists that strapped her down when they thought she was going to be difficult.
The spikes.
The dark room.
A man standing over her, controlling and terrifying.
The nightmares that plagued her night after night after she escaped the cold, clinical, unforgiving place that was the lab.
Until the Forgers.
They replayed over and over as she sat, clutching a blue crayon in her fisted hand.
"Anya!"
Anya jolted at Loid's touch with a gasp, jerking her hand away reflexively. She shuddered. Clammy, piercing, dread melting away as Loid's voice broke through.
"Anya, what's wrong? What happened?" Loid asked carefully, fully alarmed at her response.
It took a moment to gather herself before she shook her head. Returning to her drawing like nothing happened. Forced herself to relax. Forced herself to breathe before she broke down crying in front of him. "Nothing."
Her second lie.
"Are you okay?" Loid asked, utterly unconvinced.
She answered almost cheerfully. "Yep."
Her third lie.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep!"
Her fourth.
It did nothing to quell Loid's building concern. Something from her past disturbed her so much she didn't want to talk about it. How did he get her to open up to him? Surely anything that causes a person to flinch at the mere mention of something is a sign of great mental distress.
Anya dropped her crayon on the table. It rolled across her drawing as she stood.
"Anya? Where are you going?" Loid watched her step away.
"Sleepy." She answered and found solace in her room. Bond loyally followed behind, along with Loid's thoughts making their way through her closed door. Befuddled and anxious in a way she had never felt him feel before.
'Anya failed.' She thought miserably as tears made tracks down her face in the safety of solitude. From stress. From fear. From sheer exhaustion from the past couple days. From the memories she had been holding back. She climbed into bed with Bond, finding comfort in the covers she wrapped around her shoulders. 'Now he knows there's something wrong, and Anya doesn't know how to fix it. Everything's falling apart.' She thought sullenly, her face buried in Bond's fur. Her pent up tears opening like a dam as they disappeared into the dogs thick coat. He licked her hand that rested on his paw, whining in solidarity. His deep breaths soothing her as they raised her head up and down. A rumble emanating from his chest as she quietly wept for what felt like hours. She didn't know how long she cried, dampening his fur, only that it drained every ounce of her being. It depleted her tears until a quiet stillness finally inhabited her body. A tired calm that comes only after a good cry. She was so expended, even her nerves had lessened. It left her head feeling silent and less panicked. And in her numbed, muted, state, she wearily waded through muddled thoughts that weighed her down. Everything was falling apart, and she didn't know how to fix it but the alternative was much worse. She had a lot to lose now. If she didn't try to do everything she could, then it would be gone forever.
She was still scared and tired, but giving up was scarier. And so she slept, keeping a tight grasp of bonds fur.
—
Loid was very distracted that morning when Anya found him making breakfast. So consumed with his thoughts he didn't notice as Anya passed by the kitchen.
That was fine. She didn't want his attention right now. Loid was a frazzle of thoughts that he didn't know what to do with.
None of them related the to the charred eggs that he still stirred in the pan
No. It was filled with anxiety. Concern. Confusion. Anger and frustration. Frustrated that there wasn't much he could do unless Anya talked to him. Confusion over how to handle this. Confusion as to what happened to Anya. Confusion as to how to he would properly deal with any person that could be responsible for this. Or more accurately, conflicted on the best way to make them pay for it. Anxiety over Anya and how deeply it seemed to affect her. Anger that he hadn't seen this sooner. Anger that anyone would distill memories disturbing enough that would cause a little girl to refuse mentioning them. Memories so haunting her eyes glazed over, her knuckles gripping a crayon so hard, they turned white.
He realized it could've been an accident, or an incident that wasn't purposefully caused by another person, but he needed to direct his fury somewhere.
His thoughts were loud, and very well heard.
Anya wondered if she should leave him alone for a couple more minutes.
There was part of her that felt overwhelmed for the care he had for her. But the other part of her was chilled by the ferocity of his thoughts and feelings on the subject. Even so, with this torrent of madness inside him, he calmly stood at the stove, his face giving nothing away.
"Morning, Loid." Yor greeted as she emerged from the hall.
"Oh. Good morning, Yor." Loid was dragged outside of his head. He looked at his eggs as Yor greeted Anya, and realized what he'd done.
"Morning Anya." She joined Anya at the table, a perfect smile that hid thoughts similar to Loid's. The difference was the lack of confusion and an indiscriminate anger that simmered in a deep rage, trouncing every other emotion by a long shot.
It scared the crap out of Anya if she was being honest.
Yor gave Anya a big bear hug before sitting down, wishing she could make everything better.
Loid had told Yor, then.
"Morning, pwease." She returned Yor's greeting. She hoped that if she could be as normal as possible, they'd eventually forget about what happened yesterday. To stop prying. To think she was fine now.
"Oh!" Loid said from the kitchen. "I didn't hear you get up.
"Papa's distracted."
"Uh. . .yes, I suppose." He chuckled reaching for new eggs. He quickly whipped them up to feed his family while Anya fed Bond. He wagged his tail excitedly as he sat patiently for her to over-fill his bowl as usual.
He finished eating before Loid had even sat down. He handed the girls plates of toast and scrambled eggs before he grabbed his own.
"So, Anya." Loid started, filling her with dread that this was another serious conversation.
"Mmhm?" She held her fork in her mouth, apprehensively.
"The other day. Was your stomach really the reason you wanted to skip school?" He asked deceivingly casual. She had conceded to go to school much too easily after he mentioned the doctor.
"Mhmm." The fork still in her mouth. 'Papa's suspicious. Be normal. Be normal. Be normal.'
"So nothing happened at school that upset you?" He looked up at her from his plate.
Anya removed the fork and shook her head. "Anya loves school!" Stated Anya, possibly a little too enthusiastically.
Loid's brow rose, knowing very well that Anya hated studying and classes. "Really?" He said with an air of disbelief.
"Um…." Anya considered what he would believe. "Becky's there." She said.
Loid also knew this very well. "I see." He nodded knowingly. "Everything is fine then, is it?" Loid challenged lightly.
Yor watched on, not sure if she should intrude. But she trusted Loid's judgement.
Anya nearly choked on air as she spoke. "Yes."
"Good."
Anya didn't look at him for the rest of breakfast, completely focused on her plate.
And Loid watched. She inhaled her food like that of a wild animal, as he wondered if he should've left the subject alone. Until she was ready to breach it herself. He knew people were much more open to discussing things when it's their decision to do so. But this was different. He didn't know why. There was an urgency he couldn't explain and so deeply alarmed at what he was seeing. He worried it would just get worse if she left it unsaid.
—
Anya didn't think she had ever wanted to leave the house quite as much as she did that morning as she alighted from the bus.
It was still better than being at school. Or anywhere, really.
But Papa was on a warpath to know everything she didn't want him to know even if he didn't know it. He had good intentions, but she couldn't let it happen. It was lot of pressure and a lot of stress.
"Morning pwease." She addressed her best friend, her hair in pigtails as always.
"Good morning." Becky smiled as she hefted her back pack.
Anya quickly fell into step with her as she braced for another day at school.