ミ☆ chapter eleven

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dis·con·so·late
/ˌdisˈkäns(ə)lət/
adjective
without consolation or comfort; unhappy.

In the depths of a restless slumber, twelve-year-old Mildred was ensnared by a recurring dream that unfolded with vivid intensity. Amidst a blazing circle of fire, she stood, her gaze shifting to behold her best friend, Cassidy Sinclair. The air resonated with Cassidy's desperate screams as water cascaded onto the floor, a futile attempt to quell the flames.

As the dream's narrative unfolded, Mildred, caught in the midst of this fiery ordeal, succumbed to a sudden and overwhelming unconsciousness. The last echoes before the dream dissolved were the haunting cries of Cassidy, desperately calling out Mildred's name—a poignant moment etched in the fabric of her troubled sleep.

Mildred's awakening was marked by a sharp gasp, her eyes adjusting to an unfamiliar space that lacked the sterile ambiance of a hospital room. Struggling to comprehend her surroundings, she discerned a room shrouded in mystery—devoid of windows but bathed in an enigmatic light.

As she rose from the bed, the cool touch of a hospital gown against her skin sent a shiver down Mildred's spine. A palpable sense of disorientation fueled her urgency as she approached the lone door in the room. With a mixture of trepidation and determination, she attempted to turn the handle, only to be met with an unyielding resistance.

Undeterred, Mildred's desperation took hold as she resorted to banging on the door with the heels of her hands. The hollow thuds reverberated in the enclosed space, and frustration etched across her face. A surge of determination propelled her to one last attempt, and she struck the door with a force that left a visible dent—a tangible mark of her struggle against the mysterious confines that held her captive.

When she hit the door, her hand didn't even hurt or bleed. "What the fuck.." Mildred mumbled to herself, "HELP! HELP!" Mildred yelled repeatedly.

The door swung open with a reluctant creak, revealing Mildred's father adorned in a lab coat, a mysterious companion in a well-tailored suit standing beside him. "Dad! Where am I?" Mildred's voice quivered, a mixture of fear and curiosity etched across her face as her father carefully closed the door behind him.

"Mildred, there's a lot to explain," her father's voice carried a weight of responsibility as he met her gaze, ushering her into a deeper conversation. In the confines of that peculiar room, her father unraveled a tale of extraordinary circumstances. He disclosed that her latent abilities had surfaced in the wake of the fire, an unforeseen consequence that had thrust Mildred into a realm of both newfound potential and perplexing uncertainty.

As Mildred grappled with her surreal surroundings, the discovery of the '012' tattoo on her skin marked a haunting testament to a dark reality. Imprinted during moments of unconsciousness, it hinted at a past shrouded in mystery and manipulation.

Her confinement took a harrowing turn as the weight of her situation bore down upon her. This enigmatic place, where she was destined to spend her entire life, unfolded as a nightmarish realm of experimentation. Cut off from the outside world, she found herself ensnared in a web of control, her only recourse being the newfound abilities that had emerged from the fire.

A figure, 'Dr. Brennar,' emerged as an ominous orchestrator of her fate, dictating orders that Mildred, now designated 'Twelve,' had no choice but to follow. Stripped of her identity and autonomy, she navigated this dystopian existence, clinging to her abilities as a tenuous lifeline in the face of an uncertain and coerced future.

The room echoed with tension as Mildred's father posed the question, seeking comprehension in the face of a surreal and oppressive reality. "W-Why would you do this to me!? To your own daughter!" Mildred's outcry reverberated with a visceral mix of anguish and betrayal.

Her father, torn between duty and paternal concern, offered a strained explanation, addressing the unsettling nature of her latent powers. "You have these powers we don't know of; we don't know what you're capable of. You could try to hurt people," he asserted, a heavy silence enveloping the room. The profound rift between parent and child laid bare, overshadowed by the daunting fear of the unknown and the desperate measures taken to control forces beyond their understanding.

Mildred's cry of disbelief and frustration reverberated within the confines of the sterile room. "Hurt people? Are you insane! I-I hate you! Leave me alone!" The emotional tumult between father and daughter hung in the air, an irreparable fracture in their once-unquestionable bond.

Her father sighed, a heavy acknowledgment of the painful reality he had thrust upon her. He left the room, leaving Mildred grappling with the aftermath of the revelation. The cold assurance of Dr. Brennar's words lingered, his ominous smirk etched in her memory. "I will be back tomorrow, tomorrow's your big day," he declared callously before exiting, leaving Mildred to confront the impending uncertainty that awaited her.

As the door closed, Mildred's tears flowed freely that night. Her heartache extended beyond the confines of the sterile walls; she yearned to see her brother, to ensure Cassidy's safety, but the cruel isolation imposed upon her stifled any connection to the world she once knew. The weight of loneliness and the impending unknown pressed heavily on her, marking the beginning of a tumultuous journey into the shadows of her own abilities.

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The next morning's awakening carried a sense of dread as Mildred's father disrupted the uneasy tranquility. "Mill—Twelve, it's time for your experiment," his voice held a weight of reluctant obligation. Unmoved, Mildred ignored him, turning away on her bed.

"Twelve, I do not want to punish you," her father pleaded, attempting to convey an empathy strained by the circumstances. Mildred, her skepticism evident, scoffed, "Punish me? What?" The air thickened with tension as her father sighed, hinting at a hidden truth he was reluctant to share.

"I didn't want to do this," he admitted quietly. The room was invaded by the presence of two imposing men, their entrance marking the abrupt shift from paternal plea to coercive action. Mildred's confusion escalated to alarm as she found herself forcibly dragged, the unsettling reality of her captive existence taking a more sinister turn.

"LET ME GO!" The raw intensity of Mildred's scream echoed through the sterile corridors as she fiercely kicked against the unyielding grip of the men restraining her. Ignoring her pleas, they forcibly hurled her into a dim closet, the door sealing her in darkness.

Stumbling to her feet in the confined space, Mildred's heart raced with a mix of panic and defiance. In the oppressive gloom, she sprinted toward the door, fueled by a surge of adrenaline. Her fists pounded relentlessly against the unyielding barrier as she screamed, "LET ME OUT!" The desperation in her voice reverberated, a poignant plea echoing through the cold confinement, yearning for freedom from the ominous clutches of an experiment she never chose.

In the aftermath of hours spent in uneasy solitude, Mildred faced the closed door, traces of dried tears on her cheeks. It creaked open, revealing the imposing figure of Dr. Brennar. "Will you listen now, Twelve?" he stated, his tone unwavering, causing Mildred to gulp in trepidation. "Y-Yes. I'm sorry," she stammered, a fragile concession born out of the unsettling circumstances.

"Come with me," Dr. Brennar directed, leading Mildred into a vast room dominated by an imposing tank. Positioned at a table was another girl, her hair buzzed short. "Twelve, this is Eleven. Eleven, this is Twelve," Dr. Brennar introduced them, their numerical designations highlighting the clinical and dehumanizing nature of their existence. As Mildred and Eleven locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passed between them—a shared struggle in this mysterious and controlled environment that had marked them with numbers instead of names.

"Twelve, I want you to use your mind control powers on her," Dr. Brennar demanded. Panic flashed across Mildred's face. "What?! What do I say?" she exclaimed. "Like slap herself or something," Brennar responded coldly.

As Mildred reluctantly turned her gaze to the girl, she mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' Closing her eyes, Mildred took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, a gulp betrayed her nervousness. "Slap yourself on the cheek," Mildred demanded, the words hanging heavily in the air. The girl, under the influence of Mildred's abilities, complied with a hard slap against her own cheek, a testament to the disturbing control exerted over their lives.

Blood trickled down Mildred's nose as she touched the crimson stain, casting a worried glance toward Dr. Brennar. Her apprehension heightened when she caught a glimpse of his smile. "Phenomenal," he remarked, his satisfaction casting a chilling shadow over the ominous experiment unfolding in the cold, clinical environment.

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ASH SPEAKS !

I wanted to do a little chapter about Mildred's backstory!