His flesh morphed to life. His heart, arteries, hands, and toes. His eyes came in last; emerald, green, and bold. The second he opened them, a twinge stabbed through his nerves. His lungs filled with viscous mucus, and the ringing in his ears threatened to burst his newfound eardrums. He was drowning in an incubation tank. The wall formed by the bubbles around him was so dense he could barely see the figures standing below in front of him. The three watched as he was thrown into the jaws of immortality. He could suffer for an eternity if they chose.
Yet, due to pain, the subject's survival instincts were intact. His palms repeatedly met the glass, pounding again and again, crying for help. His emotions were confirmed. He was scared. His desires followed. He didn't want to die.
"Thirteen."
The clothed boy gasped back to reality. His eyes shot open to look at a middle-aged man in a brown shirt, black pants, and a white lab coat. His eyebrows were thick, and his jaw rounded. He had a large nose, and his lips were uneven, forming a permanent scowl. His gray hair showed in streaks, and his name was Dr. Broovid. He had never seen Thirteen as an equal. If he didn't know better, he would think that Dr. Broovid hated him. However, he was like that with all of them; Fourteen, Fifteen, and Sixteen.
"Yes, Sir?" Thirteen swung his legs from the scratchy, coverless bed.
"Put your suit on. You will be sparing with Fifteen today."
Blood poured from Thirteen's mouth. Fifteen flicked the crimson from her hand, painting the white wall with a close call victory. She panted, with her knees knocked in an awkward position; she struggled to catch her breath. They both did.
Thirteen wiped his mouth before falling to one knee.
"Do you call defeat, Thirteen?" Dr. Broovid questioned behind the one-way mirror. With grit teeth and a gut filled with shame, Thirteen snapped his head towards the wall opposing the mirror, admitting his loss.
His bed was tiny and blue. His legs hung from the edge of the bed, and whenever he slept, he curled himself into a ball. Despite his child-looking appearance, his stature stood at a length of five-foot-nine. His bed was only five feet long.
Thirteen's eyes shot open, and found himself propped up in his real, six-foot bed, breathing heavy and sweating bullets. That recollection was just a nightmare. His ebony hair was unkempt and his skin was paler than usual.
It was dark enough to see the flickering lights of the sconces light up the cracks of the door. He carefully watched it.
Thirteen's fingers crawled up his neck and to the underside of his chin. His thumb could feel his racing pulse, while his other hand brushed against his chest, feeling the rising and falling sensation of it.
It was still nightfall, his bedroom linked with dusk. The voices of his insecurities tucked his hair behind his ear and kissed him goodnight. He replied with a yell and thrashed his arm to the side, pushing off the incarnation of the whispers. He leaped from his bed and immediately paused like a deer in headlights. His gaze was fixed on the light that had flickered on, below the crack in his door.
"Theodore." A firm voice carried through the sconce-lit hallway. Thirteen's toes curled. A part of him wanted to dive for his bed, when the bigger part of him knew it was too late for that. His father already knew he was awake.
Thirteen stood at attention and waited for the door to open. His hands pressed up against his sides. Beads of sweat dripped down his neck; his lips pressed together in an irregular pattern. The heavy footsteps grew louder and louder until the door creaked open.
"What are you doing out of bed, Theodore?" Father's silhouette was accentuated by the warm, flickering lights behind him. The only visible color on his body were his eyes. The way the light bounced on them painted them the darkest of greens.
The boy in the room bit the corner of his mouth. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe; not with the knot wrung in his stomach. His knees shook; his hands twitched. If you even looked close enough, you could see small spirals of disorientation glossing over his eyes.
"I..." Theodore wanted to say, but all that came out was what little breath he had left in his lungs. He couldn't tell Father that he had another nightmare, he'd kill him. Theodore was supposed to be strong, stoic. obedient, and decisive. Theodore's hand twitched to life. He had gained the ability to move again.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"Are you?" He replied; the looming height he held growing by the second.
Theodore couldn't object. Whatever Father thought was factual. He wasn't actually sorry. Instead, he bit his lip, wanting more than ever to go to sleep, wake up, and realize this was all a dream; but it wasn't.
Father scoffed and glanced over to Theodore's bed, before glaring back at him.
"Go to sleep. Your first class starts thirty minutes early."
"Yes, Sir."
After Father left, Theodore laid himself down on top of the sheets. His eyes shot back and forth between the door and his curling toes. He watched the flickering warmth of the hallway sconces.
He pressed the corner of his lips into a frown. Lately he's started to feel as if nothing he did would be enough for Father. That scared him into silence. He hardly spoke anymore, He tried desperately to rest. His urge to sleep was beyond words. He didn't want to be awake anymore, but fear forced his eyes back open every single time.
Every now and then, he swore he had heard Father's footsteps; but he would never come.
The next morning, Theodore woke up to a petite girl hovering over him. Her black shoulder-length hair was tied back into two braids.
She gasped and shuffled back, giving Theodore enough space to sit up.
"P-Please excuse me, my Lord. I just wanted to make sure you were alright..." Her voice was a constant whisper. She was like a mouse, purposefully hiding in the shadows, waiting to be needed.
"It's okay. I won't tell anyone." Theodore's eyes were wide awake, and his lips placid. He showed her the front of his hand as if to stop her worries in place.
He blinked a few times, looking into her mahogany tinted eyes. The girl was trembling as she sat in silence.
"Thank you for waking me up, Eden." His words seemed to have snapped her out of that sudden spell.
"Oh! Y-yes, my Lord..." She clasped her hands together. "W-Well, I will leave you be, then." She parted her hands and glued. them to her sides as she gave Theodore a bow. "I'll be outside if you need anything, my Lord." Eden quickly rushed out of the room and took one last glance at him before gently closing the door.
Theodore sighed and slowly pulled off his shirt, revealing the scars of various widths and lengths that had etched a home into his back. He sat there for a moment, his hair covering the eyes that bore into the floor beneath him.
He didn't know what to think of Eden. She tried so hard to be professional, but her bashfulness got in the way. The reason he kept her around was most likely due to the pity he felt for her.
Theodore eyed his outfit that was delicately folded on top of his desk. Regardless of her timid nature, the care for her work showed, and he admired her for that.
As he slipped on his white dress shirt, he noted it's normal, rough texture didn't feel as scratchy. Did the maids do something different? Theodore put on his black dress pants and glared at the door. That gaze was natural for him. The scowl was almost permanent for him. However— familiar footsteps advanced through the hallway —there was one man who would twist that resting face of his. The door creaked open. It was Father.
"What are you doing still undressed? Didn't you hear me before? You're going to be late." His booming voice sent shivers down Theodore's spine.
"Yes... sir..." the boy struggled to speak as he fumbled with his black tie. He quickly donned his matching blazer and stood up, rushing to grab the schooling supplies on his desk.
Once he had gathered enough courage to look back up at the door, he had noticed Father was gone, and in his place stood Eden, worried and pale. With her hands clutched to her chest, she took a step forward.
"Get out." Theodore seethed.
"My Lord, I—"
"Get out!" He thrashed his arm out to the side, as if to swat her like a fly.
The sudden loudness in his tone made Eden flinch. The room went silent for a moment, before she slightly bowed,
"Please, excuse my intrusion..." and rushed away.
There was that stupid timidness again.
