Twilight.

vii. the bad

"Twelve? Can you hear me?"

Twelve snapped out of his day dreaming state and looked up at Papa giving him a nod. Papa never liked when him or Eleven weren't paying attention. He felt as if that was disrespectful. And disrespecting him always needed up in him disciplining them, brutally might I add.

"I don't like that you're lying to me, Twelve." Papa's face was blank but his tone was something that scared Twelve. He sounded angry but what made him scary was that he was calm when he spoke, a calm that scared him.

"Good miracles don't lie, right?"

Twelve gulped nervously and gave a quick nod. He didn't want to anger Papa. He never wanted to be on the other side of Papa's fury.

"I need you to look for me. Find Him." Papa's hand found it's way to Twelve's shaved head. He rubbed it slowly and agonizing way, that made the brown skin want to shrivel up and die. He hated when Papa touch him, he wanted when anyone touched him. But he couldn't stop the man from doing it. He only could wait for it to stop, trying not to let loose a tear. "You'll need to go inside the bath again."

Twelve felt goosebumps raise up his arms and legs. "The bath?" He asked with a bit of a tremble in his voice. He hated the bath, he hated that dark place. He hated it ever since he saw the dark place, the otherworld and Him. It gave him such a shuddering feeling in his gut-it hurt so much he felt like he was going to explode. He hated feeling like he was going to fall straight through the floor of the Dark Place. But what he hated the most was searching for Him. Twelve didn't know, or at least didn't see the face, of Him but he could feel Him. Somewhere in the Otherworld.

And He felt familiar, a terrifying familiar that Twelve could only describe as a deep settled hatred.

"Yes. The bath remember?" Papa took his hand off and now grabbed his clipboard. He looked at Twelve as they sat on the bed, sensing the fear of the boy. But he wasn't concerned about that. He needed to find it. "I need you to look again. You understand, right?"

"No." Twelve shook his head with teary eyes. He knew he shouldn't have said no, because no just wasn't an answer, but he really was terrified from what'd he seen. He didn't know about any other subjects inside of the lab and surely, he didn't want to end up like them.

"I don't-"

Papa sighed and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. At first it was thought to be comforting. "Twelve . . . it can't hurt you. Whatever is in there cannot see or hurt you."

"You're my favorite, can't you see? You can do some many extraordinary things, just like Eleven. But yours will help us find it. Yours will help us kill Him." Papa's voice was soft and calming but Twelve was nowhere near comfortable or anything of the sort. He was uncomfortable and felt icky more than anything.