[ No hesitation, no delay. Eleven doesn't even stop to think about the answer. It's immediate, and painfully honest. She feels it, every day, and in the moments that her dreams turn dark.
It's in the way she remembers her childhood, her upbringing, the way she often feels like she's drowning even now, put into the submersion tank and made to enter the Void, alone in the dark nothing.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest that put her back in hospital scrubs, hair shorn short, shoved into a pitch black closet and left alone there.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest in the shape of those loved and lost, the confused empty of her mother's mind, and the knowledge that she won't ever be without that darkness inside of herself.
She's the monster, no matter what anyone else says. She is incomplete and clawing at a shred of normalcy she can't ever fully have, despite everyone's best efforts. There's no future, and the past is a shackle she can't quite shake. She's powerfull, but powerless against anything that really matters.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest that wear her face and voice.
She doesn't lower her gaze now, keeps her eyes on Bruce. Steady. Too old, too young. ]
no subject
[ No hesitation, no delay. Eleven doesn't even stop to think about the answer. It's immediate, and painfully honest. She feels it, every day, and in the moments that her dreams turn dark.
It's in the way she remembers her childhood, her upbringing, the way she often feels like she's drowning even now, put into the submersion tank and made to enter the Void, alone in the dark nothing.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest that put her back in hospital scrubs, hair shorn short, shoved into a pitch black closet and left alone there.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest in the shape of those loved and lost, the confused empty of her mother's mind, and the knowledge that she won't ever be without that darkness inside of herself.
She's the monster, no matter what anyone else says. She is incomplete and clawing at a shred of normalcy she can't ever fully have, despite everyone's best efforts. There's no future, and the past is a shackle she can't quite shake. She's powerfull, but powerless against anything that really matters.
Things crawl out of that hole in her chest that wear her face and voice.
She doesn't lower her gaze now, keeps her eyes on Bruce. Steady. Too old, too young. ]