Experiments [Paragon]

[Visha]

He didn’t answer. At least not for a long time. Visha watched him making notes like she wasn’t there, which wasn’t an unusual way for the doctors here to treat her. The normality of that should have calmed her a little, but it didn’t, and she was beginning to feel miserable with it – caught between wanting to be good, and not liking what she was being asked to do.

His explanation meant little to her, made with words she didn’t understand. It was filling her with a cold sort of fear. And fear never mixed well with Visha.

“But it will help me?” she wanted to know, desperate for reassurance she could use to bolster both her courage and her determination to acquiesce. She was stronger than any of the doctors, and faster too; reflexes she couldn’t always control, because Visha’s body was always betraying her. She began to blink away tears. The doctor was not as kind as she had wanted him to be.

So make him kinder, a devious voice whispered in her mind. A tiny touch could do that, sometimes, especially if he didn’t notice. She knew she was addictive – it was one of the reasons they had learned to swap her minders out regularly. But for now all she thought about was Ephraim’s disappointment if she was caught.

He continued to ready himself for the procedure, and by then it was too late to create the opportunity – at least for today. Visha watched, still afraid even though he promised she could trust him. Her fists curled under her, left scratches in the metal she didn’t notice. Her skin was definitely sparking now; she could feel it sometimes, and there was a telltale pressure in her mouth too. But she wanted this didn’t she? To be well for the first time in her life?

Her breathing was sharp and shallow when he came closer. She didn’t want to be strapped down, wasn’t sure even with her consent she could fend off the feral instinct to protect herself if he tried. Though she wasn’t sure she could keep still either if it was going to hurt as much as he implied.

She closed her eyes, grit her teeth, and waited.

It hurt more than she was braced for. Visha’s whimper quickly became a wail.

She did shift half way through, and it made the pain flare far worse, but she needed to lean over and spit the venom from her mouth. She sobbed uncontrollably by then, caught in a sea of white hot agony that fried her senses. Her hands clenched and unclenched, gouging deeper scratches. She was barely aware when he bandaged her up – it felt as blindingly sharp as a bone break, and she was utterly dismayed to suddenly realise the pain would not end when the needle was retracted. She could barely curl up on the table, it was too painful. Her arms cradled her head. And Visha sobbed.