chapter eight:
❛ the massacare ❜

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Scarlett sat cross-legged in the center of the room, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she focused all her energy on the small silver magnet resting on the floor a few feet in front of her. Her electric blue eyes flickered with intensity, her breath shallow as she tried to call upon the power swirling inside her. She could feel the energy crackling beneath her skin, begging to be released. All she had to do was focus.

Come on, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the magnet. You can do this. Just pull it towards you.

A faint spark danced across her fingertips, buzzing with potential. Scarlett clenched her fists, trying to reel in the power and direct it towards the magnet, but as she pulled, the energy inside her shifted, growing unstable. She could feel it spiraling out of control, slipping from her grasp. Panic flickered in her chest.

Suddenly, the lights overhead flickered wildly, and before Scarlett could stop it, they shattered, glass raining down in a sharp cascade. Sparks flew from the broken bulbs, and the room plunged into darkness. The faint buzz of electricity hummed in the air as Scarlett let out a frustrated yell, her fists slamming into the floor.

"Dammit!" she growled, clenching her jaw. Her chest heaved with frustration, her hands sparking erratically as her powers lashed out, uncontrolled. She had tried so hard, and still, the energy refused to bend to her will. She hated feeling this way-out of control, helpless.

Without another word, Scarlett bolted out of the room, her sneakers scuffing against the cold tile floor as she stormed down the hallway. Her heart raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she wrestled with the mounting frustration gnawing at her. Why couldn't she get it right? No matter how hard she tried, her powers always slipped away from her when she needed them most.

As she reached the end of the hall, a voice called out behind her. "Seven, wait."

She stopped, her shoulders tense, and heard the soft, steady footsteps of Brennar approaching. She didn't turn to face him, her eyes fixed on the cracked floor beneath her feet. The weight of her failure felt heavy on her chest, like an anchor dragging her down.

Brennar stopped a few feet behind her, giving her space. His voice was calm, gentle. "You don't have to run every time it doesn't go the way you want."

Scarlett swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that threatened to form. "I'm not running," she muttered, though she knew it was a lie.

There was a long silence before Brennar spoke again. "I know it's hard," he said, his tone even and understanding. "But you're not going to get anywhere by giving up the second things get difficult."

Scarlett's fists clenched at her sides, her electric blue tattoo on her wrist glowing faintly, still sparking with residual energy. "I wasn't giving up," she said through gritted teeth, her voice sharp with frustration. "I just... I don't get why it's not working. Why can't I control it?"

Brennar stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. "You're trying too hard," he explained. "You want it so badly that you're forcing it. And when you force it, you lose control."

Scarlett's brow furrowed, and she finally turned to face him. Her eyes were stormy, filled with anger at herself, but also confusion. "What am I supposed to do then? Just let it take over?"

"No," Brennar said softly, shaking his head. "It's not about letting it take over. It's about *trusting* yourself. Right now, you're fighting it because you don't trust that you can handle the power. But it's your power, Scarlett. It's always been inside you. You don't need to force it. You just need to guide it."

Scarlett looked away, biting her lip as she processed his words. She knew Brennar was right, but it didn't make it any easier. She had felt out of control for so long that the idea of trusting herself, of trusting this-it felt impossible.

"I don't know how," she admitted, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. The anger had drained from her, leaving only the raw frustration of a girl who didn't know how to manage what she'd been given.

Brennar took a seat on the floor beside her, his posture relaxed. "You do," he said, his gaze steady. "But it's going to take time. And patience. You're not going to master this in a day, or a week. You have to be willing to fail a little before you get there."

Scarlett dropped her head into her hands, her fingers tugging at her hair in frustration. "I just want to be normal," she whispered. "I don't want to be this... freak who can't even pull a stupid magnet without blowing something up."

Brennar chuckled softly, though not in a mocking way. "Normal is overrated," he said gently. "And you're not a freak. You've got something special, something most people can't even imagine. You're going to get it, Scarlett. But you need to give yourself some grace."

Scarlett lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, she was quiet, her thoughts racing. Then, slowly, she exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. "I just... I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You won't," Brennar said confidently. "Not if you keep working at it. You're stronger than you think, and this-what happened in there-it's just part of the process. You've got to trust that you're going to figure it out."

Scarlett stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. She still felt unsure, but Brennar's words had taken the edge off her frustration, given her a sliver of hope that maybe-just maybe-she could learn to control the storm inside her.

With a deep breath, she stood up, offering her hand to Brennar. He took it and stood, brushing off his jeans with a soft smile. "Ready to try again?" he asked.

Scarlett hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Let's try again."

Scarlett felt the cold water envelop her as she sank down into the sensory deprivation tank, her body floating effortlessly as her mind started to drift. She stared at the softly glowing TV screens above her, their dull flicker the last thing she saw before her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off into sleep.

When Scarlett opened her eyes again, she wasn't in the tank. She was back in the simulation-standing in a sterile, white-walled room with the other children, all dressed in the same identical hospital gowns. The familiar buzz of fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Confusion washed over her. Why am I here? she thought. She was rarely included in group tasks. Her abilities were different from the rest of them-more volatile, less predictable.

"What happened?" she mumbled under her breath, scanning the faces around her.

Before she could piece anything together, a familiar voice echoed through the room. "Good morning, children," Brennar said, stepping into the room with his usual cold authority.

"Good morning, Papa," the kids chorused, their voices mechanical, rehearsed.

Scarlett remained silent, feeling a strange weight in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right.

"Today's lesson will be about rules," Brennar continued, pacing back and forth. "For some of you, this may seem redundant. For others, it appears a refresher is required."

Scarlett felt eyes on her, and when she glanced over, she saw 002 glaring at her with disdain. His lip curled as he scoffed, "Why is Seven here? She's different from the rest of us." The insult hung in the air, thick with contempt. A few others snickered, and Scarlett felt a sharp pang in her chest. She looked down at her feet, trying to hide the sadness that flickered in her eyes.

Brennar shot 002 a sharp glance, silencing him instantly. "Eleven," he called out, his voice cold and detached. "Please step forward."

Scarlett lifted her head just in time to see a small, fragile-looking Eleven-no more than seven years old-step forward with her head hanging low. She seemed even more withdrawn than usual, her posture timid and defeated.

Brennar turned to the group, his voice adopting a menacing edge. "Last night, your sister, Eleven, suffered a concussion during her alone time in the Rainbow Room. Now she claims to have no memory of what happened, but injuries of this nature don't simply happen. Someone did this. Someone in this room."

Scarlett's eyes widened, her heart pounding as she watched the scene unfold. She knew something like this wasn't an accident. The tension in the room thickened as everyone remained silent, refusing to speak. No one wanted to admit to anything, but Scarlett could feel the guilt radiating from certain individuals.

Finally, 002 spoke up, his voice dripping with fake innocence. "She must've... fallen."

Brennar's cold eyes narrowed. "Fallen?"

002 shrugged, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "You've seen her, Papa. She's clumsy. Stupid." His taunts were met with laughter from 003 and 004, their mocking chuckles grating on Scarlett's nerves.

Scarlett's hands balled into fists, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Anger surged through her veins, hot and uncontrollable. Her breath quickened as sparks of electricity crackled at her fingertips, the lights above flickering in response to her growing rage. They hurt Eleven.

Without thinking, Scarlett threw her hand forward, her electric power exploding outward. A violent surge of energy lashed out, lifting 003 and 004 high into the air. Their laughter turned into screams as they were thrown across the room, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

The room went deathly silent. Everyone stared in shock, their eyes wide as they backed away from Scarlett. But she wasn't done.

Electricity still crackled around her, her eyes glowing with a bright blue spark. She turned her furious gaze to 002, her anger boiling over. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent another bolt of electricity straight at him, knocking him off his feet.

"Enough!" Brennar's voice cut through the chaos, but before Scarlett could stop, a group of guards stormed into the room. They grabbed her by the waist, struggling to contain her as she fought against them, electricity still sparking wildly from her body.

"Let go of me!" Scarlett screamed, her powers surging again as she tried to fight them off.

But before she could release another wave of energy, she felt a sharp prick in her neck. Her vision blurred, her limbs growing heavy as the tranquilizer took hold.

Her body slumped, the sparks fading from her fingertips as she was pulled into unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was Brennar's cold, calculating eyes watching her, emotionless as always.

And then, everything went black.

Scarlett jolted awake, her breathing ragged as she stared at the sterile ceiling of her room. Every muscle in her body ached, her skin still tingling from the shock that had knocked her out. Her hand instinctively flew to her neck, fingers brushing against cold metal.

The collar.

It was designed to suppress her powers, a restraint Brennar only used when one of the children lost control. And she had lost control. Memories of the Rainbow Room flooded back: the taunting, the laughter, her rage. Then the lights flickering, the electricity sparking from her hands, and finally... the screams.

Scarlett sat up, her vision blurring slightly as her head spun. She tugged at the device, frustration growing as it refused to budge. Her breathing quickened, and her fingers trembled as she summoned her electrokinesis, sparks crackling from her fingertips. She tried to send a jolt into the collar to short-circuit it.

But instead of disabling it, the device backfired.

A sharp, violent surge of electricity coursed through her body, sending a blinding wave of pain from her neck down to her toes. Scarlett screamed as her muscles convulsed, her body jerking uncontrollably. The pain was unbearable, an overwhelming surge that knocked her off balance, her mind reeling as the room spun around her.
Then, everything went black.

When Scarlett woke again, she was lying on the floor, her body limp and heavy. Her mind was foggy, her pulse sluggish as she blinked against the dim light of her room. She groaned, rolling over onto her side, her fingers brushing the cold floor. Her body felt weak, drained, but she forced herself to sit up, leaning against the wall for support.

Then, she heard it-a faint sound in the distance.

Screams.

At first, she thought it was just in her head, a leftover echo from the Rainbow Room. But as she listened more closely, the screaming grew louder, more frantic. She frowned, slowly pulling herself to her feet, her legs shaky beneath her.

The door to her room was ajar.

Scarlett's stomach twisted. The doors were never open unless something was wrong. Her pulse quickened, but she took a deep breath and stepped forward, cautiously approaching the door. As she reached the threshold, a dark smear on the floor caught her eye. She froze.

Blood.

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze followed the trail of crimson that led down the hallway. The scent of iron was thick in the air, heavy and nauseating. Scarlett's breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. She wanted to turn back, to hide in her room, but her feet moved on their own, dragging her forward toward the source of the screams.

Her bare feet made no sound as she padded down the corridor, her eyes wide with dread. The blood trail grew thicker, pooling in dark puddles as she rounded the corner. Scarlett's stomach lurched when she saw them-bodies, strewn across the floor like discarded toys.

2.
3.
4.

Eveyone was dead.

Scarlett's chest tightened, her breathing shallow and quick. Their lifeless faces stared up at the ceiling, their eyes wide with terror, their bodies twisted and broken in ways that made her stomach churn. Blood stained the walls, the floor-a gruesome tapestry of violence and death.

Her legs felt weak, threatening to give out beneath her as she stood frozen in place. Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, but nothing made sense. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

In the tank, Scarlett's physical body jerked, her heartbeat skyrocketing as her panic took hold.

Owens, monitoring her vitals, leaned closer to the screen. "Her heart rate is spiking," he said, his voice laced with concern. "She's on the edge of a cardiac event. We need to pull her out."

"Not yet," Brennar said, his voice calm and measured. His eyes never left the screen. "She must face this. Give her a few more minutes."

Inside the simulation, Scarlett stumbled forward, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as she followed the trail of blood down the corridor. Her mind screamed at her to turn back, but her body wouldn't listen. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her hands trembling as she reached the door to the Rainbow Room.

It was ajar, just like her own, the screams louder now, almost unbearable.

Scarlett pushed the door open with a trembling hand, her pulse racing, and stepped inside.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Eleven stood in the middle of the room, her small figure silhouetted against the flickering lights.

Blood dripped from her nose and eyes, staining her pale skin. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her face twisted in a mixture of pain and rage.

Behind her, the wall where the mirror once stood was no longer intact. Instead, there was a tear in reality-a swirling, crackling mass of energy. A portal, dark and foreboding, crackled with an eerie, otherworldly light. The air around it hummed with a sinister energy, drawing
Scarlett's attention like a magnet.

Scarlett's eyes widened, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The room was drenched in blood, smeared across the walls and floor, dripping from the ceiling. Her knees wobbled as her mind raced to comprehend what she was seeing. This wasn't just a nightmare-it was real.

Her gaze shifted to Eleven, who stood motionless, staring blankly at the floor, her tiny chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Blood trickled from her face, but her expression was void of emotion, as if she had been emptied of everything inside her. Behind her, the portal crackled ominously, casting an eerie glow on the
scene.

Scarlett's heart pounded louder, faster, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she could barely breathe. Panic surged through her veins, her chest tight as she took a stumbling step back.

In the real world, alarms were going off, her heart rate dangerously high. Owens looked over at Brennar, who remained calm. "We have to pull her out," Owens urged.

Brennar's eyes remained fixed on the screen. "No. She's stronger than this. Give her a few more moments."

Inside the Rainbow Room, Scarlett's vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. Her legs trembled, her mind spinning as she tried to process the horror before her. The blood, the bodies, the portal-it was too much.

And then, the last sound she expected broke through the silence. A soft, weak voice-Eleven's.

"I didn't mean to..It was..." Eleven whispered, her voice barely audible.

Scarlett's heart sank as she stared at the little girl, her own hands shaking with residual electricity sparking at her fingertips.

Scarlett's feet pounded against the cold, concrete floor of the facility as she ran, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Her head was spinning, her heart hammering as she sprinted down the corridor, away from the Rainbow Room, away from the blood, the bodies, and that awful portal. She had to escape, had to get out.

Without thinking, she turned a corner and flung open the door to the basement. It was dark, the low hum of machines and the flicker of lights creating an eerie, oppressive atmosphere. Scarlett's chest tightened, but she kept moving, her body driven by an overwhelming sense of panic and urgency. She had to find a way out. She had to escape.

She spotted a vent in the corner, barely large enough for her to squeeze through. Without hesitating, Scarlett dropped to her knees and crawled inside, the cold metal scraping against her skin. The space was tight, claustrophobic, but she pushed forward, her muscles trembling with effort as she wriggled through the narrow tunnel.

Suddenly, her gown snagged on something sharp. Scarlett gritted her teeth, tugging at the fabric, but it was stuck. Panic flared in her chest, and she pulled harder, the fabric ripping as she freed herself. Her hospital gown hung loosely, torn and tattered, but she didn't care. She kept crawling, her hands raw from the metal.

Finally, she reached the end of the vent. Pushing the cover aside, Scarlett dropped down onto the damp grass outside the facility. The cold night air hit her like a slap to the face, but she welcomed it, breathing in deeply as she scrambled to her feet. She didn't stop to think-she just ran. The trees blurred past her as she sprinted into the woods, her bare feet pounding against the uneven ground. Branches scratched at her arms and legs, but she kept running, the adrenaline drowning out the pain.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed herself harder, her legs burning with effort. She had to keep going. She couldn't stop. Not yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Scarlett broke through the tree line and stumbled onto a dirt road. In the distance, she saw the faint glow of a neon sign.

Benny's Burgers.

Scarlett skidded to a halt, her chest heaving as she stared at the familiar sight. The small diner stood at the edge of the road, its warm yellow lights cutting through the darkness. She hadn't been there in years, not since... Her mind clouded with memories, a knot forming in her throat.

This isn't real, she reminded herself, shaking her head. It's just a simulation.

But even as the thought passed through her mind, she knew what was coming next. The memories would flood back, whether she wanted them to or not. She was going to see her mother again.

Scarlett's heart pounded in her chest as she crept closer to the diner, her footsteps silent on the gravel. She ducked around the back, slipping through the kitchen door. The smell of greasy food filled her nostrils, and she heard the faint clatter of dishes from the dining area. She froze when she saw a figure step out of the kitchen.

It was Benny, holding a takeout bag in his hand, oblivious to Scarlett's presence. He whistled softly as he moved toward the front of the diner, pushing through the swinging doors and leaving the kitchen empty. Scarlett hesitated for a moment before creeping forward.

Then she heard it-a familiar voice, warm and full of laughter. Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat.

Her mother.

Carrie.

Scarlett's heart raced as she peered around the corner, her eyes locking onto the scene before her. Carrie sat in a booth, laughing and joking with Billy and Neil. Her long brown hair framed her face, her smile as bright as Scarlett remembered. It was like stepping back in time, before everything had fallen apart. Before her mother had disappeared.

Scarlett's chest tightened, her vision blurring with tears as she watched her mother laugh, completely unaware of her daughter's presence. It felt surreal, like watching a ghost. Carrie looked so... happy. Carefree. As if nothing was wrong. As if Scarlett hadn't spent the last few years wondering what had happened to her, feeling the weight of her absence every single day.

Billy was there too, sitting across from Carrie, his arms crossed, looking slightly bored. Neil sat beside him, talking animatedly about something Scarlett couldn't quite hear. It all felt so normal, so painfully normal.

And then Carrie stood up, grabbing her purse. Scarlett's breath hitched as her mother turned toward the exit, her laughter still ringing in the air. No, Scarlett's mind screamed. Don't go. Don't leave.

Panic surged in her chest, and before she knew it, she was bolting out the back door, her feet hitting the pavement hard as she ran after her mother. The night air was cold, biting at her skin as she ran, her heart pounding louder and louder in her ears.

But as she ran, her foot caught on a branch, and Scarlett tumbled to the ground with a sharp gasp. The world spun around her, her body hitting the earth with a painful thud. She groaned, rolling over onto her back, her head spinning as she blinked up at the dark sky. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, her limbs heavy and unresponsive.

And then, through the haze, she heard footsteps approaching.

Carrie's voice, filled with concern. "Oh my god," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Michelle?"

Scarlett could hear her mother kneel beside her, feel her gentle hands on her arm, lifting her up. But Scarlett couldn't respond. She couldn't move. She could only watch from above, like a ghost haunting her own memories, as her mother gathered her limp body in her arms.

Carrie's breath hitched, tears welling up in her eyes as she cradled her unconscious daughter. "It's her," Carrie whispered, her voice breaking. "My baby... my Michelle."

But Carrie knew she couldn't call her daughter by name. Not now. Not after everything.

She looked around, her eyes wide with panic, and then made a decision. Without another word, she lifted Scarlett into her arms and hurried toward the car. Scarlett's small, limp body barely stirred as Carrie placed her in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

The next few moments blurred together as Carrie drove in a panicked rush, heading toward the hospital, her mind racing. Her heart ached as she looked over at her daughter, still unconscious, her small face pale in the dim light of the car.

"I'm sorry," Carrie whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so, so sorry."

But even though Scarlett's body remained limp, her mind was wide awake, watching the memory unfold from a distance. She watched her mother's tears, heard the words she couldn't say out loud.

In the simulation tank, Scarlett's heart rate spiked. The monitors beeped wildly, and Owens leaned in closer. "Her vitals are off the charts," he warned, looking at Brennar. "We need to pull her out now."

But Brennar's eyes remained locked on the screen, his expression unreadable. "No," he said quietly. "Not yet. She's almost there."

And in the simulation, the past continued to play out, as Scarlett's mother raced toward the hospital with her unconscious daughter by her side.

Eight-year-old Scarlett woke to the bright, sterile light of a hospital room. Her small body lay under crisp white sheets, her head resting on a soft pillow, but everything felt wrong. Her head ached, a dull throb pulsing behind her eyes. She blinked against the harsh overhead lights, confusion swirling in her mind.

She looked around, but nothing was familiar-the machines beeping softly beside her, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air, the faint hum of voices outside her room. Scarlett furrowed her brow, trying to remember how she got here, but her mind was a blur.

She lifted a hand to her neck, feeling the strange sensation of something missing. Her fingers brushed against the skin, but the electrical collar was gone. A wave of panic surged through her, but she couldn't understand why. She didn't know where she was, how she had gotten there, or what had happened before.

In the corner of the room, unseen by anyone, present-day Scarlett watched the scene unfold, her heart heavy with the weight of the memory. She stood in the shadows, her adult form a silent witness to her eight-year-old self's confusion and fear.

Outside the room, doctors stood with her mother, Carrie, their voices hushed but serious.

"We believe she suffered a significant traumatic injury to her head," one of the doctors explained, flipping through a chart. "She may have amnesia. It's not uncommon with head trauma this severe, but we can't say for certain how much she's lost or if she'll recover those memories."

Carrie's face was pale, her hands trembling slightly as she listened. "But where did she come from?" she asked softly, her voice cracking. "No one has reported a missing girl that matches her description. And that hospital gown-there's no record of anyone escaping with it. What about the... device? The thing around her neck?"

The doctor's expression darkened. "We're not sure. There's no record of a patient like her, and no explanation for the electrical collar. We've never seen anything like it before. It's like she just appeared out of thin air."

Carrie's eyes widened as she glanced into the room, her gaze softening when she saw eight-year-old Scarlett beginning to stir. "She's awake," Carrie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She stepped away from the doctors, her heart pounding as she moved toward her daughter.

Present-day Scarlett watched her mother's face, the concern etched into every line, the guilt in her eyes. Carrie had no idea who this child truly was, not yet. She didn't know that this girl lying in the hospital bed was her lost daughter, the one she had been forced to leave behind.

Eight-year-old Scarlett blinked up at her mother, her eyes wide with confusion. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice small and shaky. "What's happening?"

Carrie knelt beside the bed, trying to smile through the tears in her eyes. "You're safe now, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. "You're in the hospital. You were hurt, but you're going to be okay."

Scarlett's small brow furrowed, her tiny fingers clutching the blanket. "I don't remember... I don't remember anything."

Carrie's heart broke at the words, but she kept her voice gentle. "That's okay," she said softly. "We'll figure it out. You don't have to remember everything right now. Just rest."

Present-day Scarlett felt a lump form in her throat as she watched her younger self's confusion and fear. She remembered how scared she had been, how lost. The memory was like a knife twisting in her chest, but she couldn't look away.

But then, something changed. The room around her began to blur, the edges of the scene warping like a dream slipping away. Scarlett's breath hitched, her vision spinning as the hospital room dissolved. She could feel her heart pounding, faster and faster, the beat echoing in her ears.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

The hospital room was gone. The past was gone.

She was back in the simulation tank, floating in the dark water, her body numb, her heart racing. Her breath came in short gasps as she realized where she was, her mind struggling to process the shift. The memory had been so vivid, so real, but it had been nothing more than a simulation-one that had nearly killed her.

Scarlett's fingers twitched, her body weak, but she could hear the faint beeping of machines around her, feel the sensation of the water holding her weight. Her pulse was erratic, her heart still pounding as she blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented.

Outside the tank, Owens hovered over the monitors, his face pale. "Her vitals are spiking!" he called out, his voice tense. "We need to pull her out, now!"

But Brennar stood nearby, his expression cold and calculating as he watched Scarlett struggle. "Give her a few more minutes," he ordered, his voice emotionless. "She's almost through it."

Scarlett's chest tightened, the panic from the memory still clinging to her. She felt like she was drowning, like she couldn't breathe. But deep down, she knew that what she had seen in the simulation was real-it was her past, her truth.

And now, she had to survive it.

ASH SPEAKS!

2 more chapters until i say goodbye to scarlett for a year :(

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!!
COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)