A multitude of sounds fight for her attention, sending her into sensory overload. The mechanical, insectile clicking noise is the most ambient, the behemoths surrounding her close at hand. The tools in their grasp emit a loud, whine as they spin menacingly, ready to split her unyielding skin. Somewhere in the clicking and the whining she can just hear someone far off calling her name. At least she thinks she can. She's beginning to blackout already, the fear causing her body to choose unconsciousness as a defense mechanism.
They have her spread out on a metal table like a high school dissection. She's face down with her head twisted to the right, unable to see what's coming for her. The circular blade slices through the skin on her left side with ease, crimson blood spilling out onto the table. She screams in agony, the spots dancing on the rims of her vision becoming darker and bigger, the body she's set her gaze on becoming blurry. The screams rattle inside her head along with the clicking, the whining, the faint yelling, and a heartbeat that isn't her own. She hears everything, and then suddenly nothing. She hears nothing, feels nothing, sees nothing.
**
The journey back to consciousness is strange and confusing after blacking out. For a moment she's not sure where she is or what's happening. Within those first few seconds she has no memory of anything, but when her body is dropped to the concrete floor and the ache in her side flares up the memories come flooding back like a river breaking the dam and drowning the nearby town.
The doctors walk away from their test subject with little care to watch how her condition progresses. If all goes to plan her body will heal herself and she will continue to improve. If not, then she dies with the rest of the failures. It's no skin off their backs if she doesn't make it.
Slight bruises cover the lengths of her arms and dust the inner corners of her eyes while fading into the skin underneath her lower lashes. In order to fix something you have to break it first.
It's uncertain how long they've been wherever they are. There are no windows in the chamber to indicate day or night and no clocks to indicate the hours or minutes.
She feels weak though, too weak to move on her own. She can only lie there and wait. And it's possible that the only thing she is waiting for is death.
"Hey," a voice from beside her speaks out. Liam drags his body upward so they're heads rest next to each other. He's not doing so great either, but his strength is replenished much quicker. He's able to recover only to have more blood drained- a torturous of cycle of relief and misery.
"Hi," she mutters weakly, letting her neck fall to settle in his direction. Her side throbs where the gaping wound is and her head pounds feebly. Yet somehow, over her own aching, she's able to feel an immense amount of guilt for the predicament of the boy here with her. She can't even begin to guess what his fate is going to be. He's not one their creations, so what they could possibly want with him is beyond her. But mixed in with the guilt is a sense of selfish relief. The only thing that could make this situation any worse would be loneliness in addition to the experimentation. And that's enough to make some people want to die.
Liam's chest tightens uncomfortably as he takes in the pitiful condition of the girl beside him. He can hear her heartbeat, and it's unsettlingly enervated. In another time he might've lost his temper and lashed out, breaking anything within reach and yelling until his throat was hoarse and bleeding. But now he just feels sad and lethargic. He was so sure that when Scott suggested building a fortress inside the school that would be what was safest. But it failed as a safe haven and as a trap and proved to be nothing other than grounds for retrieval.
His head is dizzy with blood loss and disappointment. He was so sure everything would be all right. They've overcome everything else. Why doe this have to be different?
She inhales sharply, wincing as the pain becomes too much. Liam reaches out for her hand instantly, lacing their fingers together. It's not much, but it's something. He can't take pain away like Scott can and he's apologized profusely for it. All he can do is be there, and unbeknownst to him, that is everything.
He twists their hands so hers is the one facing him and he brings it towards his face. His lips brush softly over the battered skin, kissing the back of her hand tenderly. The gesture sparks a fresh set of tears. She turns her head away from him, not wanting him to see her cry. She's caused him enough turmoil already. He shouldn't even be here. He's done everything in his power to protect her. And for what? For a girl who's been nothing but cold to him. She's not worth him dying over.
"Liam," she evens her tone, turning back to look at him.
"Hmmm?" he mumbles, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.
"I just want you to know that even if all of this was for nothing, you're still my hero."
They fall silent as he stares at her, noticing that her cheeks are stained with tears- some old and some new. After years of feeling like a monster living inside a human's skin, maybe all he's ever wanted to be is someone's hero. Maybe that's why he admires Scott so much.
"You're going to be okay. I promise you're going to make it home," he chokes, fighting to keep a controlled façade
"It's okay," she smiles at him sadly, knowing he's in no position to make that kind of promise. "Whatever happens to me, it's okay."
"It's not okay! None of this is okay!" he yells, losing control of his emotions. His greatest fear has come alive and no matter what has happened in the past, he can't loathe her now.
"I can't believe I wasted so much time hating you. You're pretty great, Liam," she grins at him, tears sliding past her lips. "You know, the whole time I was laying on that table I kept thinking that if I could just get up and walk over to you everything would be okay. If I could just start over with you, everything would be okay."
"We're already starting over and you..y-" he chokes, "You can't leave me okay? You can't leave me. Not now. You owe me. After icing me out for four years you owe me."
How badly she wants to really start over with him. She craves the opportunity to get to know the boy who so selflessly did everything he could to protect her. But right now, on the cold concrete floor with their fading bodies pressed side to side and their scarred hands intertwined, this might be all they get. Goodbye might not be so far from hello.
With every last ounce of strength she has left, she lifts her head to kiss Liam's cheek gingerly, letting them brush against his lips on her way back down. Her lips are cold, just like the rest of her body. Her head drops quickly to rest in the crook of his neck since she is not strong enough to support herself any longer.
Their interlocked hands rest on his chest now and she can hear his heart beating. It's strong and steady. There's hope for him. He has a chance
"Thank you for not letting me be alone. Thank you for making me feel cared about," she trails off, her eyes getting heavy. "This feels nice."
"Hold onto it then. Because you have to keep fighting," he squeezes her hand tighter, her drooping eyelids making him nervous. He nearly lost his mind watching The Dread Doctors drill into her on the operating table. Actually watching her die might be too much to come back from. He needs her to survive this more than he's ever needed anything.
"Relax, Liam. I'm just going to take a nap," she yawns, her eyes fluttering shut.
"You better wake up afterwards," he warns.
"I will," she whispers, barely audible. "I promise."
He can feel her chest rising and falling against his side, streams of her breath blowing against his neck. Her heartbeat is stable, but alarmingly shallow. It's enough for her to keep her promise of withstanding the nap, but after that not much can be guaranteed. The bitter truth settles in, making tears brim his glossy blue eyes.
She might not make it home.
