Chapter Seven

—

The director.

Kai Forester.

Stood in front of Anya, awaiting her reply. He towered over her at six feet, but so did every other adult. He crossed his arms, staring down at her, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Welcome back."

He had said. With his twisted smile, and a tone conveying how triumphant he truly felt. Anya was a scarce resource and now he could get to work.

Agent Fisher nodded a greeting to him which he ignored. All attention on Anya.

What a joke, as if she'd had a choice. Anya thought vehemently, thinking of all the times she had wished death and pain on him.

"Well?" He asked. "Say something. It's rude to leave people hanging." A bite of irritation lacing his words.

Anya glanced at Fisher who subtly raised her eyebrow at his remark. She didn't seem surprised by his hypocrisy.

He didn't notice.

Anya's first response was to hide behind the safety of Fisher's legs, wishing he'd go away. Wishing she didn't have to look at his face. As much as Anya disliked Fisher, she liked her better than the director.

"Anya." His voice suddenly hard and cold. A warning.

She developed a cold sweat, grasping tightly to Fisher's pants.

"Tch." He said, irritation prickling. "Is that anyway to treat your father?" He said icily. "Come out and greet me properly." He demanded. His voice low and rough. He was getting angry. It never took much.

"Sir." Fisher started before Anya could react. "She's tired from work. Perhaps-"

"Did I ask?" He cut her off, finally looking at her.

"No, sir."

"Then don't. Interfere." He warned.

"Yes, sir."

"Anya! You're being disgraceful. Come out now." He ordered once more. "I won't say it again."

Anya knew what that meant.

She slowly came out of hiding, still clutching the agents leg, as if she'd protect her.

Anya knew she wouldn't.

"Now. What do you say?" He asked.

"Thank you." She mumbled, unable to look at him. Cursing him in her mind with every bad word she knew.

"What was that?" He asked flatly. "Speak up."

"Thank you." She said a little louder.

"There, see? Now was that so hard?" He asked, appeased for the moment.

Anya shook her head at her feet, resisting the urge to glare up at him.

"Now" His mood miraculously restored, he walked over to the bench and sat down. "We should have a little chat, I think. Come sit." He patted the seat next to him, a slight smile gracing his face.

An ugly face, Anya had always thought. But she was pretty biased.

Reluctantly, (thinking It pretty stupid to refuse) she climbed up and sat as far away from him as possible.

"Now, Anya." He started like a real father who actually cared and was giving her a heart to heart. "We need to talk about your escapades. You ran away from home, didn't you?" He said softly. Gentle almost.

She fidgeted with her hands.

"Didn't you?" A slight edge when she didn't answer.

Anya nodded.

"I understand you're curious about the world, and you wanted to explore it. But that was not a smart thing to do. You could have gotten hurt. Or worse, killed. It's dangerous out there. The only safe place for you is here." He rambled off.

"You'll get out on jobs soon enough. But now you know what a hard place the world is. Now you know that your place is here, don't you?" He asked, waiting expectedly for an answer."

His words just fuelled her anger and spite.

Anya refused to call this place home. Refused to tell him she belonged here, that she wanted to be here. Refused to tell him what he wanted.

She shook her head, still focused on her hands. "Anya hates it here." She said quietly, packed full of venom and hatred. Like using it as a weapon and throwing it at his face. "Anya hates you." She added, instantly regretting it, but she said it, and said it with every ounce of her being, wishing she could use her words as a weapon to physically hurt him.

She had never said that to him before. She had been too scared, too cautious to ever think of saying that to his face. The consequences too heavy. When did she get so bold to say something so stupid?

His face clouded, growing dark with rage and she knew she had made a big mistake.

"I see." The words drawn out, his jaw tightening and twitching.

She flinched at his clenching fists.

"I was hoping to avoid any correction of your behaviour on your first day back." He said, his words becoming darker with each sentence. "But speak to me like that again, and I will not hesitate to drag you back to that room." His deep purple eyes bore into her, causing her to shrink as he waited for a response.

Anya nodded, wishing she had never come out here.

"Anya." His words measured very carefully, each word filled with weight. "What do you say?"

"Anya's sorry." She sniffed, scared he might change his mind. It was a miracle he hadn't the second he said it.

There was a deep inhale. Exhale. He clenched and unclenched his fists once or twice.

"You're forgiven." He said, rather easily, Anya thought. "As long as you behave yourself. Understand?"

She nodded once more.

"Good." Some of the darkness left his features, but his face remained stern. "Now that you know. If you try to run away again, there will be great consequences."

Anya nodded, hating to speak to him.

"Trust me." His tone turned softer. "Some day you'll look back and laugh you did something so foolish. When you're older you'll understand. You'll grow to like it here." He said, delusionally convinced this was the case.

He stood abruptly. "Get some rest. We've got work tomorrow."

Anya's stomach filled with dread as he finally left her in peace. She hated it when he said things like that. It could mean more "check-ups" to literally anything to do with mind-reading.

It put her in knots for the rest of the day.

—

Anya did not want to wake up the next morning.

The air was cold and the tiles were probably freezing.

She wrapped the blanket more tightly around her, refusing to open her eyes, even when the lights flicked on.

There was a bang on her door, signalling her to get up, before Fisher unlocked and opened it.

Anya pulled the covers over her head and groaned unhappily.

"You've got work to do. Get up, kid." Agent Fisher stated, a hand on the open door. "The director isn't going to wait long and you don't want to work on an empty stomach, do you?"

Anya and Agent Fisher had developed a strange relationship during Anya's previous time here.

Fisher stayed professional, firm, kept Anya in check, but left Anya as much leeway as she could.

Which was more than Anya could say for other subject's guards.

They had never liked each other. Or at least Anya had never liked Agent Fisher.

She guarded her, kept her from trying to run, went everywhere she went.

But she didn't think she outright hated her. Not all the time anyway.

Anya hazily sat up, the covers releasing the warm air trapped inside. She knew better than to keep the director waiting.

And she was hungry.

Agent Fisher brought her to the cafeteria. One of the few places the children saw one another. They met each other surprisingly little outside of it.

Subjects were usually either in their rooms or "working". When they behaved well, they got to go to the gardens. And If someone was missing from the cafeteria, they were in isolation, dead or dying, or healing from one of the experiments.

Or in two other kids cases, "on a job."

Agent Fisher escorted her inside where six other kids sat at one of the eight tables in the large room. A guard for each of the kids close by.

"Anya?!" A boy called, startling his seat mates, fumbling to get his feet free from the long bench attached to the table.

"Noah." Anya said in surprise.

Subject 025. One of the rare few to survive the experiments.

The doctors were extremely disappointed when their plans to turn him telepathic didn't work out. But not surprised.

They stopped when it was killing him, before they wasted more resources. Wasted his body. He had transplants too, and they were too precious to lose. They'd try again when they knew how to fix him. Or let him keep them until they'd be more useful in another kid.

Honestly, Anya was surprised he was still around.

Noah released her from a hug, giving her a good look at his brown hair and blue eyes. His face matured to that of an eight year old.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, letting her go. He had grown since last she saw him. He crouched down to level with her, his expression kinda off.

Anya didn't know how to take it. He looked happy to see her, but sad at the same time. Disappointed and ecstatic.

She looked down at the ground. "They found Anya."

Noah nodded gravely. "Mmm." He hummed with as much gravitas an eight year old could have.

"I'm sorry about that. We were all really happy you got out." He said, supportively as he'd always been. There was also a question itching at the back of his throat, and Anya noticed his inquisitive stare.

He tried to hide it, waiting for her to speak again.

"What is it?" She asked.

"What was it like?" He asked wondrously, no hesitation. The other kids perking up.

"The outside?"

He nodded.

Anya tilted her head. Considered. "It was bootiful. And scary. And big."

"Someday I'll go outside too and see for myself." He said.

"You will." Anya reassured him, a pat on his head making him laugh.

"C'mon." He stood. "Get your food and come sit with us." Noah invited before returning to his seat.

Anya quickly grabbed a plate and sat down to lavish the table with her outside exploits. They listened intently, the world a mystery to them.

—-

Anya hated this the most.

She thought, standing behind a screen next to the director looking at a dead body.

Kai occasionally brought freshly dead bodies, or specially frozen ones, for Anya to look at.

Or more accurately, for Anya to listen to.

"Put your hands down." He said when Anya covered her face as the doctors prepared the bone saw.

"You're going to have to learn to do this eventually, don't shy from it." Kai insisted.

Anya's hands left her face, but couldn't help but look away as the saw bore into the mans skull.

"Look!" He said, placing a hand on her head and forcibly turning it.

The saw buzzed, making it's way around. Blood splatters painted the doctors protective overwear.

Anya had seen this before, but never got used to it.

The doctor put the saw down, and removed the top of the man's head, exposing his untouched brain.

"Pay attention. This part is important." The director instructed her as the doctor pulled out a machine attached by wires to two, small, devices.

He tested them to make sure they worked before placing them on the hippocampus, sending electrical currents.

"Search his memories for his killer, what do you see?" Kai asked.

Anya took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes, concentrating.

Dead minds were cold. Hollow. They gave her chills when she touched them. They felt dead. Made her skin scrawl and shiver. Sometimes they felt slimy and dank. Maybe dark and foggy. Or like that one time when it felt like it was trying to drag her down with it.

Anya already started to feel the affects.

She saw the faint flickering of memories flashing around, bringing her to attention. None of them organized or filed away. Like floating about aimlessly, nothing to tether them down.

Her stomach turned, fighting to rise up. Dizziness making it hard to focus.

'Anya better do this quick', she thought.

This mind was especially foggy.

Anya guessed it was from fear taking over the persons thoughts as they died, unable to focus on anything else.

She roamed through them for a couple minutes, trying to keep her stomach down, when she finally found it.

A man pointing a gun at her, or rather the dead guy, and shooting him in the chest.

As if it'd happened to her, she gasped stumbling away, eyes flying open.

The nausea from reading his mind overcoming her, she threw up in the bucket Agent Fisher held out for her.

Reading dead people was the worst.

"What did you see?" Kai wasted no time.

"He was shot." She croaked, coughing into the bucket.

"Yes, I know that. There's a bullet in his heart." He replied deceivingly calm.

"He had grey hair and brown eyes. And a drawing on his neck." She said turning to him.

"A tattoo? What was it?"

"Umm…" Anya tried hard to remember, but the memories of dead people were hazy. Details were always hard to see.

"It was swirly. I don't know. . .I couldn't see it very well." She mumbled at the ground.

He exhaled through his nose. "That'll have to do then. That should be enough for our client to identify him. Fisher." He turned to the woman.

"Bring her to Doctor Fairaway for a follow-up, they've analyzed the results." Kai said to the woman before walking away satisfied. Writing notes on a pad he kept in his pocket.

"Let's get you washed up first." Fisher said.

—

Anya screamed at them, hurling every insult she could think of as she thrashed and thrashed as Fisher tried to strap her down once more.

"LET ANYA GO! ANYA DOESN'T WANT TO!" She yanked on Fishers hair.

"Ow!"

"Anya! Calm down!" Doctor Fairaway's voice drowned out by Anya's, grabbing one of her arms.

"YOU CALM DOWN!" She cried through her tears, Fisher finally getting a fist in a cuff.

"NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO!" Anya tried harder, but she wasn't a match for the agent who managed to wrangle her other hand into the next cuff.

"This is the last one, I promise!" Fairaway helped Fisher with the last of the straps. Buckling it down.

They both stood up straight, took a breath. Tucked away the strands that came loose.

Never had a four year old caused them such problems.

Fisher said something.

"What?!" Fairaway called over the unintelligible screaming.

Fisher said it again.

"What?!"

The agent gave up and left the room.

"Anya! Calm down!" The doctor tried again. She sighed and turned to the counter to prepare the needle.

The next minutes were filled with Anya's crying and hollering until it deescalated, her throat raw and tired.

"Anya doesn't need anymore!" She sobbed.

"Yes! You do! Do you want your brain to stop working? You'd only live a couple more years without it." Fairaway sighed dramatically, tired of Anya's antics.

"This is the last stage. It will keep you for the rest of your life. So calm down. The pain only lasts a couple days."

"It lasts forever!" Anya objected, her lip trembling at the sight of the doctor flicking the needle and approaching.

—-

Loid sat in the principal's office a few days later.

The second of the schools that had a black and grey uniform.

His searching paid off, an announcement made at the school to come forward if anyone had met a pink-haired little girl with green eyes and horns on her head named Anya about year ago.

He was lucky the schools administrator had agreed to help. The principal understanding his parental dedication to finding his daughter.

She was a very proper person: auburn hair kept perfectly in place, posture straight as a board, a light smiled that assured parents their children were in good hands.

He sat across from her desk, waiting patiently.

They turned to the door as it opened, revealing a boy, maybe fourteen years old. A head of dark blonde, accompanied by hazel eyes.

He looked curiously from the principal to Loid who stood to greet him.

"Good morning. My name is Loid Forger." He held out his hand.

"Hi. . .I'm Sam. . ." Hesitantly shook it. He glanced to the principal uncertainly. "What's this about?"

"Have a seat." She motioned to the chair next to Loid's.

"Mr. Forger tells me you might know his daughter." Ms. Jacklyn began once he sat.

"Anya?" He guessed.

"Yes."

"She's your daughter? I thought she was an orphan?" He stated bluntly.

"She's adopted." Loid hated revealing this, but the school was far enough away from people who'd ask questions, that he hoped it wouldn't cause problems. "I was hoping you could tell me how you met her?" Loid prompted.

Sam thought this was weird. Sam looked to the principal who nodded in encouragement.

Shrugging, like it was a normal thing, said: "Found her hiding out in the school's supply closet by the field. Don't know how she got in there."

"You what?" Asked the principal. "Why did I not hear of this?"

"Uhh. . . " Sam paused, realizing his mistake. "Well. . .she. . .wasn't harming anything. Said she was hiding and when I asked where her parents were, she didn't answer."

"Hiding from what?"

Shrugged again. "Said it was 'bad guys'".

They both blinked at him. "Why didn't you bring her to the police?" Loid asked.

He rubbed at his neck, laughing nervously. "Honestly I thought she was a street kid. She looked like a street kid. . . kinda. And even if she was hiding from these 'bad guys', I doubted the police would care much about her. . . " He trailed off. "But she was so young and scared, I figured I could at least show her where she'd have a roof." He twiddled his thumbs.

"The orphanage." He stated. Aware of the shoddy police work you could find most anywhere.

A nod.

Loid Backtracked. "What do you mean she kinda looked like a street kid? I was told she was wearing pyjamas."

"Pyjamas?" Sam squinted as he looked up, searching his memories. "Yeah I mean, I guess they could've been. But I don't think so. They looked more like. . . hospital clothes. . .except not. But she didn't look sick and she said she felt fine so…. She just looked dirty, ya know? Like she hadn't bathed in awhile."

Mr. Forger nodded, thinking carefully. Realizing how little he knew.

"Did she say anything else?"

Sam shrugged, shaking his head.

Loid nodded in acceptance that that was all he'd get. He thanked them both before leaving, glad to know his next task.