Ptolemaea | Henry Creel

Love Was Violence

GUYS!!! OH MY GOD HENRY AND SIXTEEN ARE ACTUALLY SO MENTALLY ILL ITS INSANE (im not kidding its worse than you think) I wrote this in a hyperfocused state and i haven't gotten up in five hours. WOOOOOO!!! ENJOY!!!! 

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Mine and Eleven's training was rather boring the next day. Owens had summoned us into room G302-- a training room-- around 11 am, where we promptly passed three hours ball parking our abilities. Most of the attention went to Eleven, whose performance was 'mediocre,' or so Owens had jotted down after she failed to so much as flicker the lights.

I felt guilty for her. Eleven was strikingly perceptive for such a young girl, and if anything even remotely significant was going on, I could count on finding those dark bright eyes of hers glued to the scene. The pitfall of that, however, was her ability to notice each and every frown or sigh that escaped Owens' warm exterior. By the time training reached its conclusion, her cheeks were pink with what I could only assume was embarrassment, and she basically ran to collect her things.

"Eleven," Owens called to her, that all-too-familiar smile on his face, "You have about an hour and a half of free time, and then you'll have to report to Brenner for your next session in the tank. Try not to be late, kiddo."

She was quick to hide the disappointment on her face. I couldn't imagine how tired she was, having to run from training to the tank over and over every single day. Not to mention the emotional toll that came with returning to the lab in the first place.

She nodded and turned to leave once more, but this time I was the one to interrupt her. "Good luck today, Eleven." She paused at the door, her eyes flickering to mine. "Maybe you should use your free time to sleep. Get your energy up before your time in the tank, hm?"

"I will try," She told me with a soft smile, and I didn't believe a word.

Just like that, she was gone, leaving Owens and me alone. I'd been waiting to speak to him for a while now.

I figured I had a good grasp on everyone else who was relevant in the lab. I knew, vaguely, what to expect from them, and more importantly, I knew who I could and could not trust. The former was practically nonexistent, truth be told, but it was still nice to know. Eleven was slowly creeping her way onto that list, but I doubted I would ever fully trust her-- I made a similar mistake once, and the consequences were far too abysmal for me to ever make it again.

Owens was difficult to get a pulse on. Honestly, I had no idea where his allegiance lay. It was clear he didn't like Brenner, which should've been a good sign, but Henry never liked Brenner either, and look where that got me. He hadn't done anything overt enough to make me distrust him, but that did not clear him of suspicion. Not in the slightest.

And so, once I was sure Eleven was out of earshot, I turned to Owen's with an expression of practiced neutrality. "She isn't progressing as quickly as you hoped she would," I observed, careful to keep my tone light and conversational.

Owens stayed quiet for a few moments longer. His eyes flickered between the door and my face. "No, she isn't," He muttered. Finally, his cheery exterior fell away. He looked much older, then, as his face fell and his hand came up to massage his temple. "Brenner is suggesting that we... speed things up. Move her a few weeks forward in the tank so that she can confront Number One, but I'm worried it will overwhelm her."

"She's already overwhelmed," I muttered, "I don't think speeding things up is a good idea."

"I know," He replied, "But you know better than anyone what Brenner is like. He went behind my back once-- that's why you're here-- and when it comes to Eleven, there's just no telling what else he's willing to do."