If Yesterday Was Tomorrow [ X-Men ]

Chapter Ten

Victor sighed softly. He sighed so silently that he couldn't even hear the air passing his lips. He could only feel it, just as he felt pain destroying his body. His fingers brushed against the white wall, as if trying to sense if the little girl was on the other side. Was she even there, had she managed to escaped, or had she been killed since the last time he saw her?

He leaned his head on the wall and closed his eyes. He was tired of staring at the empty room. His brown hair brushed against his eyelashes, reminding him of the time he'd lost. Was he truly alone? Had they given up on him? Had they celebrated when they'd realized that he was gone, or did they mourn?

A part of his brain that hadn't fallen prey to the drugs whispered that they must still be searching for him. But it didn't matter. They'd never find him. And he would never be able to escape on his own. The drugs were too strong. He was too weak. Before, he could conjure tornadoes of dozens of meters high without breaking a sweat. Now, he was barely able to summon a gush of wind without falling down of exhaustion.

He couldn't stop the scientists from testing on him. Every time he managed to use his powers to push them back, they intensified the testing and the drugs the very moment he let go of the wind. It was impossible. He'd never escape. He just hoped the little girl was alright. If she was fine, if she was free- it would be worth it.

The door opened. Victor looked up tiredly at the two scientists entering the room. They sent him a disgusted yet neutral look. In their eyes, he wasn't human. He was a beast to be experimented on.

Victor didn't put up a fight.

What was the point?

He would never escape.

***

Scream, pain, scream, pain- did it ever stop? Why did he hate his voice so much? It was him who inflicted such pain on his body- his screams were only an instinctive reaction. Why was he being punished if he let out his voice? Victor couldn't even think straight. If the scientist thought that he could control himself, he was very wrong. It was too much. Always too much.

"Stop screaming," he whispered to him. Victor blinked, but he could only make out a blurry face leaning over him. He wished he could answer, but he blacked out a moment.

Pain woke him up some time later. His body cringed in pain. He tried to move his arms, but the shackles around his wrists stopped any movement he wished to make. Same for his ankles. Feeling a scream rising up his throat, Victor bit down his lower lip till he drew blood. His voice died in his throat. The pain calmed down to an intensity he could tolerate.

The white lights of the ceiling blinded him when he opened his eyes. He shut his eyes and swallowed a mouthful of sweet blood.

The girl.

The little girl.

She had to be alive. He'd promised. Victor had protected her. She was fine, living her life away from pain. She was fine. She must be fine.

It was the only thing keeping him fighting.

He'd never escape, but she'd be safe.

***

The loud noises woke Victor up. It was kind of strange. He could count on the fingers of his right hand the number of times he had been able to hear something else than distant footsteps and faint whispers.

However, today, loud crashes entered the white room. Victor immediately drew his knees closer to his chest in a vague effort to protect his body from whatever was outside. It sounded dangerous. Faint screams tried to reach his ears, but he blocked them out with his hands. It scared him. He didn't want to know what was happening. He just wanted to rest before they came back.