#document:hawkins

the rain grew fierce, grew vicious. a storm raging around her like the storm growing in her core.  she was not built to be soft, not built to be quiet.  no, she was a hurricane , endless power and destruction.  feet carried her onward despite the storm, despite the mud soaked feet and tattered hospital gown that clothed her. goosebumps rose on skin but not enough to stop her. not enough to bring her down.   it’s within running, that she hears the rustle in the treeline, seeking further despite hesitation, to discover a handmade fort. something small. 

            run run run - - - there’s no time.

squeezing through the grate in the wall, panic sets a fast crawl through the piping, closer to the sounds of rushing water in the distance. it’s dark but knowing what was waiting for her back there was darker than what she was sure to find. she crawls faster, heart beating heavy in her chest - she wonders for a moment if it’ll pop right from her chest.   can’t stop moving.

it’s moments later that she reaches a ladder, crawling up one step at a time until reaching the surface - pushing her way through the grate and into the pouring rain. feet carry her forward in a sprint through the dark woods, bare feet padding through puddles of mud and grass. it’s within moments of her journey that she hears a rustling sound -- a pause in steps, eyes wide and posture on high alert. whatever this is -- it won’t get her this time.  

@fatherfiigure

back where it all had started. had it all been for nothing? the escape, the lives lost and perhaps the nightmares brought to a group of young boys that she had coined as her friends. all of it had led back to this - back to where she had tried so hard to escape from. a man that she had tried so hard to leave – papa.

her hands shook, heart quickening in her chest; reminiscent of a small bird trapped behind a cage and desperately trying to make it’s way free and back into a world free of bared cages and prodding fingers. a world that was no longer meant for a girl like her - a weapon.

there was no part of her that felt as if she could go on with this, that she could resume the project of a malicious man who had raised her since birth in the confines of a white laboratory room. knowing now what lay outside those walls had made it impossible for her to see anything good about being here. impossible to see anything good about him.

                  “no more, papa.

she’d done this many times before for the boys, even if it was exhausting for her to deal with - it certainly was the least she could do for him. this was his brother after all. seated next to the radio, she pointed to it, wanting him to speak. “will.”

@goodwithabat continued from : x

amusing to watch the entire scene, learning something new at the same time. the product in question was something used for hair styling. now she knew just why his hair stood up the way that it did. though she wasn’t sure if personal style was such an important matter to her just yet, she’d never really been given much of the opportunity to explore her style. often clad in a hospital gown with her hair shaved at all times, there was never an opportunity to explore such avenues such as style.

there were certain perks to being invisible, nobody ever noticed when you were gone. sammy had spent enough time studying the ins and outs of the institute before plotting his escape, it was practically easy to slip out unseen when you were, in fact, invisible. he’d never actually been outside before, the city streets were a maze that he was only starting to navigate - it would take time to find somewhere that wasn’t a private residence to escape too.