Master Post For Inhuman

Master post for inhuman

https://www.tumblr.com/gtlurker/753661841998233600/here-is-chapter-nine-of-inhuman-bit-of-a-warning?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/gtlurker/754261292263587840/here-is-chapter-ten-of-inhuman-a-bit-of-a?source=share

Chapter four of inhuman, were back to isabella's perspective, enjoy!

Chapter four.

Isabelle

I'm sitting on the dashboard of Ronan's car with a burger three times the size of my own body sitting in front of me.

It's the first time I've smelled something so good in so long, and it won't taste as good as I've spent the last ten years imagining. “You want me to cut that up for you?” Ronan asks while his mouth is stuffed full of half chewed food.

I've been living in a cage for the last ten years and have only been fed literal slop and I have better manners than this ghost man. I shake my head no, and look back at the burger in front of me. I pull off two pieces of the bun and rip off small pieces of the meat, lettuce and cheese to make a mini burger for myself. My hands are covered in grease and sauce, but I can deal with it after I eat.

The first bite tastes freedom, and the second solidifies that hope. After I finish the first mini burger, I waste no time ripping off more pieces to make another one,

and another, and another. By the time I realize that I can't eat another bite, there's a good chunk of the burger missing. I'm embarrassed to admit I'm a little proud of how much I was able to eat.

I look back over to the two towering people who have already finished their food, anxiety begins to pool in my stomach when I realize neither of them have said anything about Damien since we were in the lab. I was promised that Damien would be waiting for me, and it's just these two in the car.

The boy to the left of Ronan looks quite a bit younger than him, with fluffy brown hair he stuffed under his hood and a birthmark almost in the shape of a heart on his jaw. I don't like him. He hasn't sat still once in the entire car drive, and won't stop looking at me. I look back at the dark haired ghost man, he has a scar over his lip, and I think he might be wearing a bit of lip gloss.

I don't not like him.

His hands were pretty soft and warm. When it looks like the younger of the two is about to speak, I start before him. “Where's damien?” I ask quickly, and I wipe a bit of the grease off my hands and onto the thread bare dress I still have from the lab.

“He's in Italy, he’ll be back in-” he cuts himself off when his phone dings. He quickly digs his phone out of his pocket. He raises his eyebrows and looks up at me. “Next week, actually.” more dread pools in the pit of my stomach, and I clench the ends of my dress in my tight fists. “How do I know you're not lying?”

I ask, not looking up at either of them. As much s i try to hide it, I'm scared. If they're lying and actually are working with the people from the lab, there would be no one to blame but myself for believing them. This could all just be a test to see how I react to feeling hope, and then having it all taken away. “Two reasons.” Ronan starts, and he takes a sip of his unnaturally orange drink.

“One, our entire paycheck rides on whether or not you're safe, and two, you're the seventh kid weave rescued from these labs. You can ask the other six how even though we don't look very untrustworthy, were the most safe persons-”

“People.” The boy next to Ronan corrects him. “People, you'll ever meet. We can even call your brother so you know it's really him.” he says reassuringly, but i don't feel the least bit reassured. In fact, I feel an even higher sense of dread.

There's more labs like the one I was in, there's more people like me. How many more are there? Who are these two?

I shift my attention back to the younger boy,

Than to ronan.

Than to the giant pile of guns that took me a concerningly long time to realize were back there.

What. the. Fuck. I scoot back a bit and look between the two of them once more, before pointing at the pile of guns again. “What, what are all the guns for?” I ask, as I scoot back a bit more.

“Oh! Those are just in case there were people in the lab with you.” the boy whose name I really need to figure out says as he quickly throws his hoodie over them, most likely to hide them from my line of sight. “We're kinda like assassins but without the killing people part” Ronan gives him a skeptical look, his brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened. “Except we do kill people.” Ronan adds on, and my eyes go wide with not exactly surprise, but more confusion that he would admit to a stranger that they kill people.

“Oh right, yeah, so we're kinda just assassins.” I'm guessing I'm not doing the best job at hiding my anxiety about being in a car with two murders fifty times my size with absolutely no escape route, from how Rowan's expression shifts to a reassuring and almost embarrassed look. “But we won't murder you, of course.” Rowan adds with a smile.

And that is possibly the least reassuring anyone has ever been while trying to tell someone they won't be murdered. But it's also not the dying part I'm worried about, since I myself cannot die. Its the torture i'm more scared off. If they are planning to get rid of me, the ways in which they could do so are horrifying.

They could bury me in a wooden box underground, and I'm too pathetically small to even be heard. Or maybe they would lock me in a steel chest and drop me into the ocean. Or maybe they'll just lock me up in a room to rot away.

What if all they told me about them being trustworthy and about my brother was a lie.

“Isa, why are you crying?”

Ronan's voice cuts through the never ending possibilities still screaming in the back of my head, and I'm suddenly all too aware of how close his hand is to me, his whole hand is twice the size of my entire body and is two seconds away from encasing me in its grasp.

Fight or flight kicks in and I make a run for it, “hey! Wait! Don't run-” running towards the rolled down car window. When I turn my head to see if his hand is still following me, I see that it's gone completely.

Confusion joins the overwhelming mix of emotions in my head, but it's immediately replaced by shock when the hand comes crashing down in front of me, blocking my only exit. My heart pounds against my ribcage and tears prick the corner of my eyes.

A familiar ringing sound fills my ears as I make a sharp turn to run the direction I came from. This attempt proves to be futile as well when i second hand lands in front of me on that side too. Fear grips my heart and all I can think about is the pain that's coming when the two hands start to move in on me from both left and right.

I brace myself for the crushing pain that will be my punishment for trying to run. I curl in on myself uncomfortably with Ronan's ring still loosely fitting on my waist digging into my chest. The promise that he made to me with this ring on must've meant nothing to him even though it meant the world to me. He scoops me into his hands and before I can even register any of the pain I begin to struggle.

No matter how pointless it is I struggle against his hold, if he's going to try and hurt me i will not make it easy. I wonder if it's possible for the addranile to block out all of the pain, or if he hasn't started to hurt me yet.

“oh mon Dieu- Isabelle! Calm down! I am not hurting you!”

Ronan says, but i don't listen, i don't believe his lies and i continue to struggle in his hand. He closes his hands around me so that I'm cupped between his hands in almost complete darkness, small bits of light peek through the gaps in his fingers and I freeze.

I stop for a moment and realize that he is being gentle, his movements are a bit clumsy, but he's not hurting me at all. I'm still shaking a bit but I'm not actively fighting against him anymore.

“I am really starting to run out of ways to express that we don't want to hurt you.” he says with a sigh, though his voice is a bit muffled through the flesh wall between us, i can hear his sincerity. I copy his sigh, “please. . . put me down. . . please.”

I say in a tone so quiet it almost counts as a whisper. To my almost surprise, he listens. Ronan sets me gently down in the cup holder beside him. It's only then that I notice the boy next to us with a mortified expression. He looks at me, then looks at ronan.

“Dude, you did not just grab her like that!?” Ronan gives him a quizzical expression. “She's fine with it, right isa?” I quickly shake my head no, agreeing that I am not okay with being grabbed like this.

“Oh, I'll stop doing that then.” he starts up the car again and i flinch, neither of them notice though and they start driving the car. I hug myself, and try not to think about the danger I could be in.

Chapter two of inhuman! The story is getting a perspective switch, and as more characters are introduced you'll see the story from their pov aswell! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter two

Ronan

Walking out of the lab holding a terrified four inch tall woman in my hand is not how I expected this to go when I accepted this job three weeks ago.

From the outside this building looks like an abandoned church. It's in a remote area several miles into the forest on the outskirts of the city. A good place for a hidden lab. It took me half an hour to walk here from my car, where my partner atlas is waiting. He's been talking to me through an earpiece that I turned off after he so helpfully told me I spilled bleach after I knocked over a vial. I sigh when I feel the first few drops of rain begin to fall. “Fils de pute.” I mutter in French, earning a strange look from isabelle. Looking down at the mini lady I start to move her to my pocket, her response is the let of a small shout and cling to my finger.

I know this isn't exactly the right time to be thinking this, but she is absolutely adorable. “Don't worry, I'm just getting you out of the rain, don't want someone as lovely as you getting soaked now do we?” I ask with a wink, and I notice how her cheeks lighten to a soft shade of pink. Adorable. She takes a few moments to process what I said, and when she does she quickly shakes her head no. I tilt my head to the side as a way of asking for her to elaborate. “This. . . is the first time I've been outside in ten years,” she trails off before she can fully get her point out. Since she didn't finish her sentence, I kept walking in the direction of the car.

I don't actually intend to take her directly to the car, she seems like she's not ready to be inside again. I'm going to take her far enough away from the lab that she won't be affected when I burn this hell on earth to the ground. The inside of the lab has already been dosed in gasoline that I mopped the floors with before I found Isabelle, all that's left to do is light the match.

A gas fire won't be hindered by the water falling from the sky. If she wants to watch she can from a safe distance. If not, I'll take her back to the car and get atlas to get us back to the safe house. Whatever will bring her the most closure. After just a few minutes in the rain, Isabelle is soaked and shivering in my hand. I pull two unused tissues out of my pants pocket, and allergies in the late summer will be the death of me, and I wrap them gently around her body. She looks up at me gratefully for about two seconds before the tissues are soaked and clinging to her in a way I'm sure cannot be comfortable. An apologetic smile is all I managed to give her before I decided that this is a safe enough distance away for me to start the fire. I set her down on a tree branch that hangs at the same level as my head, and turn around to light this place up like it's a firework.

“WAIT- where are you going?! Are you leaving me here?!” she yells out, and I flinch. Right, I have to explain the things i'm doing to other people, they can't read my mind. The amount of pain and panic in her tiny voice makes my heart shatter into a million and a half pieces. She's scared, she doesn't know me, and I'm her only hope of getting out of here alive. Even though I have no real intentions of abandoning her, there's no possible way I can assure that to her. “What? No, no of course I'm not leaving you, I just need to destroy the evidence that I stole you, and that I was ever here. I'll be right back, pinky promise." I hold out my pinky finger to the small girl, just like she had done to me not that long ago.

The breath she lets out holds a hundred different meanings and I don't know any of them, but a smile full of relief fills my face when she touches her finger to mine. “I'll be right back.” To solidify my point, I slide the ring off my pinky finger and carefully lift her arms, earning a well deserved flinch that I immediately apologized for. The ring slides perfectly over her Arms and rests beautifully on her hips like a golden belt. The small ruby gemstone glimmering in the moonlight above us. “Keep an eye on that until I get back, yeah?” I ask her, she gives me a hesitant nod. I give her one last reassuring smile before I turn around, already twirling the lighter around my fingers.

As soon as Isabelle can't see my face my smile drops and my expression twists with an anger only these types of places can bring out of me. I had my partner and basically adopted brother atlas do a bit of research on what kind of lab this place is when we first accepted this job. Finding out that Isa was the sole survivor of the nine kids she was brought here with was not a comforting fact. It was even more disturbing to find out that they weren't even the first batch of experiments to go through this place.

Seventy four.

Seventy four other children were killed in this lab and the three others spread across the country over the last decade and a half. Each of their deaths was more brutal than the last. I shudder at the thought as I walk back through the doorway of the building. “Fires won't light in the rain.” Atlas' voice chirps through my earpiece and I roll my eyes, even though he can't see it. “Gas fires can't be put out with water.” I remind him. I should really stop pulling him out of school to help me on these highly illegal missions. I pull the lighter out of my pocket and flick it on, before dropping it on the ground and watching as the flames burst around me in seconds.

I should have started the fire from outside.

The smell of smoke and burning chemicals invades my nose as I sprint out of the burning building. I feel a small fire on the bottom of my pants which I try to put out as I run. It's hardly effective at all, but the small puddle I stepped in seemed to put it out without burning my skin too much. I can feel the heat of the fire as if it's only inches behind me.

Fuck this was a bad idea. I don't even give Isabelle a chance to ask questions about the sudden and very large fire that is spreading throughout the lab. I ignore her protests and squirming and I hold her close to my chest. The fire is catching on the wet grass surrounding the old building entirely. I'm forced to hold Isabelle a bit tighter when I feel her almost slip out of my grasp, I wince a bit as I hear her fearful gasp.

I don't want her to fear me any more than she probably is, the client is not going to be happy with me for scaring the shit out of his sister. Her tiny voice is shouting panicked cries at me even though I'm trying to save her ass. I turn back to see that the fire is spreading a bit more, it's not spreading very fast but it's definitely not safe enough to stay here for much longer. “Sorry isa.” I say as I drop her gently into my pocket so I can run a bit faster.

Atlas’ car comes into view and relief floods into my system. The headlights turn on as he drives a bit closer to pick me up. I slow down and carefully fish Isabelle out of my pocket, at the same moment the car crashes into my body.

tiny that requires an exponentially more amount of validation n attention than the avg person

🤝

giant with adhd and cant stop fidgeting

Chapter three! And yet another switch in perspective, and a new character!

Chapter three

Atlas

There’s many ways to express panic, regret and remorse, but my personal favorite is loudly and repeatedly yelling “fuck.”

I've had my drivers license for less than a week and I've already managed to hit a person with a car that doesn't even belong to me! Just as I get out of the car Ronan is getting up and gently grabbing something off the ground. “que diable?! tu viens de me heurter avec ma propre voiture! Que fais-tu?!” he yells at me in french, so he's definitely pissed. Despite my fifty day duolingo streak I have no clue what he's saying at all. He lets out a loud sigh when I don't say anything back for about thirty seconds and he checks on the little. . . thing he has in his hands.

“Where's the girl?” I ask hesitantly, hoping he forgives me for hitting him with the car. He's too busy looking over whatever he's holding, trying to see if it's broken or not. Did he break his earpiece? He looks shocked for a moment, and I just kinda stand off by the car awkwardly. “You're. . . completely fine?” Ronan says, my curiosity peaks. “I cant get hurt.” a shy and tiny voice answers from his palm. Now I'm really interested. There is a tiny voice that I don't recognize coming from Ronan's hand and the girl we were sent to find is nowhere in sight. Still, I don't say anything. Instead I wait for Ronan to explain what is going on. “Atlas, get in the car and call the fire department, we kinda started a small forest fire.” Ronan tells me as he looks back at the forest, I just now notice the slowly spreading flames. “I told you that the fire was a bad idea! Did you at least get what the client asked for?”

I ask, not even phased by Ronan's idiotic use of fire. He's always been sorta a pyromantic, and it is usually near impossible to get him away from a flame once he finds it. So seeing him walk away from one must mean his mind is very focused on something else. “I'll explain in a minute, I'm driving so no one else gets hit.” I wince at the reminder of how I hit him a few minutes ago.

We both get in the car and he gently places what looks like a dirty tiny person into the cup holder. “Holy shit dude did you find a fairy?!” the fairy girl thing creature flinches at my voice, and i mouth an apology. Ronan chuckles and starts the car. “This is Isabelle liana, this is how i found her, as far as i know she's human.”

“No, I'm not human,”

Isabella's voice cuts through both of ours. She sounds somber and quiet, like she's hurt that we would consider her human. “What do you mean?” I ask, and Ronan looks concerned, she shrugs and turns away from me, as if she's offended I even talk to her. Does she not like me? I did hit her and Ronan with my car, but I don't think that would warrant her hatred seeing as she doesn't even have a scratch on her.

Ronan, who can see her expression looks slightly amused at whatever she looks like. Oh god she definitely hates me. Before I can fully spiral down that road of thoughts, I notice that she's covered in what looks like wet toilet paper. This situation just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Ronan and I exchange a glance before we both turn our attention back to the little girl who has still yet to answer the question.

The only thing about her that doesn't seem human is her size. “Um, do you have an answer to why you're not human?” she silent for a few minutes more before she starts to push the white mush she's covered in off her body.

“Humans can die.”

is all she says, her tone somber and her voice quiet. She curls in on herself and her question leads to a hundred more. What the hell is she talking about, of course about to start freaking out if no one starts telling me what's going on. “Atlas, can you get the wet tissue off isa so she can warm up?” Ronan asks as he turns off the highway. At his suggestion Isabelle quickens how fast she's getting it off herself, getting the majority off before I get a chance to reach for her.

I slap my hands onto my knees and click my tongue, not wanting to see how she's a hundred percent glaring at me. This thing hates me. This client may never hire us again if he learns that his sister hates me. She seems pretty fine with Ronan though, and I don't think he would stop hiring Ronan, over my mistake.

But then would Ronan fire me for making a mistake this big? He's not hurt, but I did hit him with my car, and that usually makes people hate other people. Before my spiral of thoughts can continue, Ronan is shoving a stale and half eaten croissant into my mouth. I immediately spit it out and shoot him a glare. “Where the hell did that come from?!”

“Pocket croissant.” he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world to carry a croissant in your pocket. “Why?” I ask incredulously. “You were clicking your tongue non stop, it was getting annoying.” he says with a stifled laugh, and i shake my head in pure disbelief with the situation. My attention turns back to the tiny girl sitting quietly in the cup holder, she seems scared and relieved all at the same time.

The moon is still high in the sky with stars scattered across in a way that's too beautiful to be random. If it weren't for the forest fire that's slowly spreading through the forest I would ask Ronan to pull the can over so we could star gaze. I bet Isabelle would like to watch the sky at this time of night too, i don't think she’s had a chance to do something like that in a while from the looks of her. She's pale and obviously malnourished. Her hair is unwashed and her clothes are dirty. She was obviously not well taken care of for the last few years she's been in that lab. Ronan hasn't told me much about her and I've been able to find her first grade school records and lab records from the last ten years. She was pulled out to be homeschooled but I haven't been able to find the normal things you would be able to find on a persone her age. School records, medical history, information on her parents, her childhood home. It's like none of it ever even existed. Like she hasn't existed. “So, why are you so small?” I ask while looking down to isabelle. Ronan pushes my shoulder and shoots me a friendly glare.

“You cannot just ask her that, no questions for at least three days.” At Ronan's words, Isabelle noticeably stiffened. I wonder if she's against the idea of staying with us for a while. I feel bad for her if she doesn't want to live, considering our client won't be able to pick her up for five months. He said he had very urgent business that had to be taken care of before he saw isabelle. I don't exactly know what could be more important than seeing your sister after ten years. “Let's stop for burgers.” I suggest shifting the tension out of the air. “It's on ronan.” Ronan mumbles a bit about how i should have to pay for once, but he quickly drops the attitude when isabella's eyes light up with the mention of burgers.

My first ever story (and post) on this site! It's tilted inhuman and is about a girl named isabelle who do to genetic experimention is shrunken to four inches tall, it's also going to be told In multiple povs from each charater. the story can be a bit graphic and has a few mentions of suicidal thoughts so warning for that, otherwise I hope you enjoy.

Chapter one.

Isabelle

The first time I felt real hope in my life also ended up being the last.

I was nine when my father brought me and nine other kids to his lab where he and his team of seventeen scientists and three assistants researched the limits of the human body. I foolishly thought it was my parents showing an interest in something I was passionate about.

Science.

I used to love science. I loved taking the time to figure things out and learn about whatever I wanted in my own experiments, I loved picking things apart to find out how they work, and I loved the amazing feeling I got when I finally figured things out. But after i learned what it's like to be on the other end of the stick, whats its like to be picked apart for someone else to figure out how i work,

I hate science.

I pull my knees to my head as I try to conserve the very little warmth my cold cell provides. My eyes squeeze shut as the door creaks open, someone’s here. Nobody should be here, they only left two hours ago. I'm given six hours and thirty minutes of sleep every night after the experiments. Why is someone here? Please, god don't let it be another scientist wanting to play doctor with my tired body during the only break I'm allowed to have. I don't hear footsteps. It must have been the wind playing tricks on me. The familiar click of the door shutting once again gives me half an ounce of comfort as I realize I'm alone again. Everyone else is gone. I press myself against the cold metal bars of my cage and take in the room around me, the same overly clean environment that I've grown used to over the last ten years.

A sigh escapea my lips as I take in the sight of the table they use to perform their sick experiments on me, they hadn't even bothered to clean up my blood. No doubt they left it there to torture me further. The sight of my blood on the table only reminds me that I will never escape, not even death can free me from this fate. Death cannot save me if death cannot reach me. I close my eyes again and go through a mental checklist of what they haven't taken from me yet. my memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. I repeat in my head over and over, reminding myself that no matter what else they take, I will always have those three things, even when I wish I didn't. envy is the only thing that comes to mind when i think of the other nine kids who were here with me, partly because they don't have to live with their memories and their thoughts, and partly because they even got to die.

The first of us died of blood loss, so they altered our cells so that we don't get the luxury of bleeding out.

The second caught fire due to the actions of a careless scientist, so made it so our skin can't be burned.

The third had died from being pumped with too many drugs at once, so they made us immune to overdose.

The fourth had died of sickness, so they made us immune to that too.

The fifth had attempted an escape, so they diminished our size down to nearly nothing. He had died during the tests to see if that would work.

The sixth had suffocated herself with a pillow, so they replaced our lungs with a robotic system that produces a different type of oxygen that only our bodies could handle.

The seventh had been crushed to death, so they made our skeletons able to withstand the weight of buildings.

The eight had died of cardiac arrest, so they made our hearts fifty times stronger than any human heart should be.

The ninth had been dissected and stolen for parts.

I am the tenth. The result of how far you can push the limits of the human body, and that is only until they find a way to break me too. I glare at the pile of blankets in the corner, there covered in too much blood and grime to be even considered as usable. They refuse to wash the blankets, which we regrettably used as tourniquets to tie off our wounds back when all this first started. The smell of them used to be nauseatingly disgusting, and I almost wish I could get sick from being around them.

Maybe if I was sick theyd give me a bit of a break. I doubt it though, they would more likely find a way to make me immune to that too. I wonder how long it's been since I have had the cold or even a stomach flu. I wonder how long it will be till I get sick again. I wonder how long it will be until I die, or if I even will die. I used to think It was my right as a human being to have a proper death outside of a place like this, but would I still have a right to leave this lab if I no longer have my mortality? I shake my head as if I'm shaking off the existential crises before it can fully develop.

“Atlas, did you even bother to make a layout of the building?”

an annoyed whisper cuts through the cold silence, And a pit of dread starts to build in the bottom of my empty stomach. It wasn't just the wind. I get up too quickly in an effort to try and get a look at the intruder of the lab. This person is quiet, I haven't even heard their footsteps once since the door shut. Why are they so quiet? Could they save me? Could they hurt me? Where are they? My eyes scan the room as I try to find the ghost person that's sneaking around the room. It's better if I find them before they find me. Almost like the ghost I keep comparing them to, they've hidden themselves perfectly. Away from the sight of the four cameras in the corner of the room, and away from my view. I can't make out if there's one or two ghosts in the room with me. I heard the man say a name, but I only heard one voice. What if there's no one here at all? What if after ten years of living in agony and suffering has finally broken me?

If the ghost-man is nothing but a figment of my broken imagination, then it wouldn't hurt me to talk to him, to call out for help. It would ease the neverending loneliness that this place has instilled in my mind. But on the off chance that it is a real person they could be dangerous and here to hurt me further. Stepping away from the edge of the cage I go over the pros and cons of calling out to him. Pro, if he's fake he doesn't pose a threat. Con, if he's fake then I've truly lost it and will have know way of knowing. Pro, if they're real then they could save me. Con, if they're real they could be scientists. A sigh escapes past my lips, and at the same moment a beaker falls and shatters on the glass tile. A strong smell of bleach invades the room and the ghost man lets out a series of curses in an accent that sounds almost french. Why would my mind make him french? I shake the thought from my head almost as quickly as it forms, what's important now is that i can finally see him. He's in all black with a hood covering the upper half of his face, but I can see a small scar on the left side of his jaw. He's obviously very muscular even with his slightly baggy clothes, and is holding a pistol tightly in his left hand. Why is he armed?! I watch in paralyzed fear as the man looks up and meets my eyes. His brows furrow as confusion takes over his features, he lowers his gun to his hip and takes a cautious step towards me, I return his gesture by also taking a step back. He takes another, more curious step forward, and I again step back. We continue this back and forth until he's at the edge of my cell and I'm pressed firmly against the furthest wall of my cell.

A tense silence fills the room as we both stare at each other intently, watching, and waiting for the other person to make the first move. A chill breeze passes through the room and a shiver racks my tiny body. This man is huge next to me. I've grown used to being man handled and grabbed by scientists whenever they wanted to use me for their sick experiments, but for this ghost-man to stand in front of me and really let me take in his size, its a new form of torture that none of the scientist could even hope to come up with. What if that's what this is? The scientist sending in someone to fuck with my head when they ran ran out of ways to deystroy my body. “Que diable…” the man breaths out a sigh as his shoulders slump with what seems like defeat. What the hell does “que diable'' mean? He's definitely real if he's speaking a language I don't know. He almost seems just as and if not more confused than I am. His eyes shift to the rotten pile of blankets sitting in the corner of my cell. And I feel heat rise up my neck and dye my face a subtle shade of pink from the embarrassment of this stranger seeing me in such a disgusting state. I straighten out the threadbare dress that hangs loosely on my body, before attempting to fix out my hair. I don't know why I care about how a stranger views me, maybe it's because he's the first person who's seen me in years who wasn't actively trying to hurt me. I flinch as he raises a hand that's bigger than my whole body, and gestures to me, more specifically my height. “Are you. . . Isabelle liana?” he asks, his thick french accent breaking through the silence, and my breath hitches in my throat when he says my name. I press myself up further against the wall, the cold metal pressing against my skin. He knows my name. Why? There's not a chance he's here to do anything good if he already knows who I am. I shake my head no, lying in the hopes that he'll leave and not hurt me. “Do you know where I can find her?” he asks, and i shake my head once more, i don't think he has good enough eyesight to catch the fact that i'm trembling with fear of what he may do if he finds out that i am in fact, isabelle liana. “Why, why do you need her?” My words are rushed since I'm not sure how well my vocal cords work now since I've only been using them for screaming the last year. His eyes widen and his face shifts to one of shock and slight confusion at my sudden refound voice, and it takes him a few moments to regain his confusion. He rolls his head as he contemplates the way he could phrase things. Does he think I am a child? “Her brother hired me to find and rescue her.” he explains, shrugging his shoulders and leaning down to peer into my cell once more. I shudder under his heavy gaze, but as his words sink in, hundreds of thoughts rush through my head, one playing louder than all the rest. “Damiens okay?” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth, and the regret buries itself deeper in me as a smile spreads across his face. “You know damien?” he asks, a playful hint to his tone,

“Yes.” i respond.

“And you're not isabelle?” he asks.

“I am not.”

“How do you know damien?” he crosses his arms and leans on his left hip. “Family ties.” I confidently replied. “Like a brother?” He raises his eyebrow. “Yes.” I cross my arms in return. “So you're isabelle?” he tries to suppress his smirk. “obviously.” fuck. I don't know if it's sleep deprivation or hunger, but this guy is starting to annoy me more than scare me. A grin plays on his lips as he chuckles quietly, I flinch at the sound and take a step back. My eyes go wide as he pulls out a small pair of dull looking scissors out of the large bag he wears on his hips, but they dont look like normal scissors. They're bigger than his hand and seem like they should be stored in a tool box.

“What is that?!” I shout, now fearing for my safety once again with this ghost man. “Chain breaker.” he replies blankly, before raising it to the lock of my cell. It moved to the far back corner, getting as far away from his chain breaker as I could. “I'm ronan, in case you were wondering.” he tells me as he swings open my cell door. I gasp, the only barrier between him and my safety easily stolen without a care in the word from him. Tears brim my waterline at the thoughts of everything he might do to me if i dont get away from him. But I can't. He's blocking the only exit with his way too big hand that is now entering my cell. Oh my god his hand is in my cell. My eyes snap shut and I put my hands up defensively. “NO!” I cry out, and a small sob escapes my throat. the warmth that's been radianting off his hand leaves my cell. And I almost want it back. Sobs rack my pathetically small body as he just watches, I bet he's just struggling to contain his amusement at seeing me like this. He was lying about knowing damien, he guessed i had a brother and this is all just one big trick set up by the scientist to torture me even more than the already have. My sobs soon turn to wails as I realize that I indeed am going to die without seeing my brother again, Ronan, if that even is his actual name was just sent here to bring false hope just so they could rip it away one last time before they finally kill me. And that's only if I still can die, they might bury me under ground and leave me there to starve or dehydrate, whichever comes first, then study the effects it has on my inhuman body. No one will reprimand these awful people for everything they've done to me and the nine others who lost their lives in this place, they'll bring in a new batch of kids and do the same to them, and all our deaths will be in vain. I flinch when I feel a finger begin to gently pat my back, and I jump away from it. “Hey, hey, calm down, stop screaming.” he says, as he puts his hands up so i can see there not doing anything to hurt me. “I already told you this but i'll tell you again, your brother, Damien Liana, hired me, Ronan Moreau, to rescue you from this place.” i shake my head no, not wanting to believe a word he's saying, this man has managed to go from terrifying, to annoying and back to terrifying, and i don't think i could trust him even if i tried. I flinch hard again when I notice that he's slowly extending his palm towards me. But it stops before it even enters my cell. “Please, I promise I'll get you out of here safely.” he says, and i wipe some of the never ending tears off my cheek. “Pinky promise?” I whisper, and he chuckles at my childish request. His hand shifts so that he's holding out his pinky finger to me. I hesitantly hold mine out as well. Because of the immense size difference we can't interlock our fingers, so we just touch the tips together. It may not seem like much, but it means alot to me that he was willing to go along with such a childish request for the sake of my comfort. This time, when he reaches out a hand for me to climb onto, I take a deep breath, and step onto the hand that's offering me the freedom that I have been praying for.