Your Mind // 001

013 - Scars

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Hawkins National Laboratory

Peter's POV [TW: mentions of self harm]

(After Peter leaves Josephine in the infirmary with Amelia)

He rushed out of the infirmary, not daring to look back. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He'd kissed her. He'd again given in to his emotions, letting them control him entirely. He knew he wasn't good for her, not in the slightest. He'd ruin her, that he knew.

Again, the same continuous question lingered in his mind. Was it love? Was it an instinct?

Peter was used to knowing things. He knew this place was hell, a cage disguised as a hospital. He knew that all Brenner wanted was power. He knew that Josephine's memories would resurface as she grew stronger. He also knew that the place would kill her.

Her powers were festering, coursing through her veins, waiting to be released. Just like his had before. This, Peter knew better than Brenner.

But his true desires were a mystery to him. A year ago, he would've carried the thought of  killing everyone in this lab, every morsel that had any hint of humanity left in them. But now, all he wanted was her. The Henry he knew would've liked to use her, grow her powers just for him. But he was Peter. And there were unknown feelings inside of him, those he never knew he could feel.

He hated it.

He hated giving into those humanly emotions, slowly becoming the kind he despised. He hated not knowing why, or how, he felt this way.

Of course, they had been friends since childhood, though she didn't remember so. Even then, his feelings were still stone cold. She was nothing but an acquaintance, one he accepted merely because she didn't fear or despise him like all others had. Or, at least, that's what he told himself.

Now, he felt like he owed the world to her. It was his fault she was trapped here, his fault her powers were torturing her. It was him to blame. He wanted nothing more than to help her for his own selfless reasons. By now he knew that he was just repeating himself over and over again.

He sauntered further down the hall, pushing the thoughts away with his eyes trained on his left hand. The wrist was bandaged tightly beneath the thin cotton shirt. Small specks of blood started to form, spreading slowly. He sighed, changing his route to the storage room to change the cloth.

It'd been a couple days since it started to bleed again, so he figured it would be about time it would return to its cycle. He was waiting for it to heal, but he couldn't help but pick at it. He knew it wasn't a good habit, but no matter how hard he tried, the numbers would never go away. No matter how many times he tried to just etch it off, the bolded numbers remained in tact in his skin.

He brushed pass another orderly, not paying attention to who it was until it called his name.

"Ballard."

He turned around slowly, hiding his bloodied wrist behind his back. It was Seil.

"Do you mind if we chat for a minute?"

"Who do you think you are," Warren grunted as he shoved Peter into the wall, both hands on his collar. "Say that again, Ballard, I'll rip that cocky little mouth of yours right off."

Instead of a groan of pain or cry for forgiveness, Peter laughed. A dry, eerie laugh that drove Warren over the edge. He drove him further into the wall, nearly knocking over the metal shelves.