Elixabeth couldn't remember what name she had had before the age of 4. In fact, she couldn't remember much about what life had been like before then...before she was taken in by the Experimental Medical Division. She knew, as most small children do, the rather vague story of her early childhood; the basic outline illustrated by certain memories, both vivid and blurred, both explained and unexplainable.
The story was this: she had been born into a typical Factory family, their second child and the last they were allowed. Needless to say, she was precious to her parents and brother, so generally, they kept her close by and in their protective, loving sight. However, one day, her family was hard at work in the mill part of the Factory when they let that sight slip for just a few moments too long. The next bit was the part that was most jumbled in Elixabeth's memory and in any records available. All anyone seemed to know was that there had been a terrible accident in which she had been the main victim, and as such received brutal injuries that rendered her almost paralyzed, with barely any hope of survival. In Elixabeth's own memory, all that stood out about the 'accident' was an unclear jumble of images and numb pain that made no sense.
What happened next, according to the tale, was that the Center stepped in, sending doctors from the Experimental Medical Division to see what they could do for her. After nearly a day's inspection, the doctors summoned the very worried family and explained to them that the only way to save their daughter was to give her over to the E.M.D completely, so they could heal her and treat her from that day on. So, the parents, terrified and uncertain of what else to do, signed the paper that left all their daughter's rights to the Experimental Medical Division and its doctors. It would be as if they never had a daughter; they would never see her, the Division could do as they saw fit to her, her name would be changed, and the family was even allowed another replacement child. Yet, this, the people who managed the documents assured them, was the best and only way for their daughter to live. Two shaky signatures on a piece of paper, and they no longer had a daughter. Thus, a new life began for the young girl they renamed Elixabeth.
Intensive surgery was the first step. Nearly everyone had expected that. The unexpected part came in when the surgeons became more creative as the procedures continued, adding in certain things that were never there originally. After realizing how simple these additions were, they got an idea.
Elixabeth had a room of her own near the operating rooms. It was small, clean, and white with a little cot in one corner and door in the other corner that opened into a miniscule bathroom; also a sterilized sort of white. Anyone else who saw it most likely would've judged it as cold and clinical; but to Elixabeth, it was home and all she knew. The only people she ever saw were the doctors who gave her daily checkups and the anesthetists who came about once every 3 weeks to send her to surgery. She was given food, of course, but the hands that shoved food through the door didn't seem to count as acquaintances.
For almost a year, she had to amuse herself with making up stories in her little room and occasionally stepping out to get some exercise, when she was allowed. Then, one day, a doctor came up to Elixabeth, crouched down to her level and said, "We're going to bring you some friends, little girl. How would you feel about that? Want to meet them?" His voice was gentle, but not exactly caring. It had a sort of forced sweetness that Elixabeth didn't quite like, but the thought of meeting new people scared and intrigued her, so she nodded slowly, her moonbeam-white hair falling in front of her face. He gave a decidedly kind smile, and stood up. "Give them a few more hours in recovery, and you can meet them, alright? For now...back to your room," he said smoothly, taking her tiny hand in his own and directing her back to the small white room.
For months after that day, it seemed that a week did not pass without at least three new people coming in for experimental surgery, and even though communication was somewhat limited, this was one of the happiest points in Elixabeth's life. She found a sort of family: a mother, named Vinity, who had come in one of the first rounds, a father of sorts, Tarven, though he seemed to only have eyes for Vinity, and a friend who could've passed as a brother, named Vengen.