Interlude 1.5
Updated: Sep 17, 2023
Content warnings: descriptions of torture/drowning, mentions of parental abuse (detail below; skip if you prefer surprises)
A character has their head dunked underwater repeatedly to simulate drowning.
A character reflects on several methods their father used to punish them: using a sledgehammer to break their bones, shocking them with a taser, whipping them, and beating them.
~.~
Morgan bolted upright, gasping for air for the third night in a row. They were no stranger to nightmares, especially after dreaming of the Ennead’s prison experiences for the last ten years, but this one—it was always this one in particular that hit where it hurts.
Morgan was seeing the world through Kai’s eyes, feeling terror and frustration rush under his skin as he writhed helplessly in the grasp of the prison guards. And then she struggled to breathe as Kai’s head got dunked underwater again, and again, and again—and for longer with each repetition.
Perhaps this dream hurt so much because Morgan had always felt safe around water.
With a frustrated groan, Morgan slid out of bed and slipped on leggings and a hoodie. On her way out of her room, she grabbed her gun and a spare clip. The trek to the training rooms was familiar to her now after a few days of training with Minerva and Mateen, and she found herself hating the way she settled into a groove as she knocked the door open with one knee, then filed over to the small shooting range. Morgan didn’t want to get used to this, because every time they got used to something good, it got ripped away by their father.
With a deep breath, Morgan loaded their gun and began to shoot. Without even a second thought, Morgan walked forward, firing a shot every three beats and spacing her footsteps every four. And then, unbidden, memories of her time with her father started to flood her mind.
A sledgehammer making contact with her hip, shattering the bones.
Morgan’s fingers squeezed the trigger.
The shock of a taser being shoved into her ribs after a failed negotiation.
Bang.
A whip flying through the air, cutting into her back.
Another bullet buried itself in the target.
A fist swinging everytime she missed a shot.
The sound of the door opening echoed through the air, jolting Morgan out of her reverie. Morgan’s eyes widened, and before they realized it, clouds were gathering in the air against their will.
“Morgan?”
The familiar voice—Minerva’s voice—made Morgan relax just a little bit, but now the brewing storm was slightly beyond their control. The humidity was enough to make Morgan’s hair frizz out of its braid, and she felt a tug in her gut as the wind picked up speed. That alone was enough to make Morgan panic, and the panic just fed the storm, and for a second Morgan was afraid that lightning was going to shoot down from the clouds above.
And then Morgan was face to face with Minerva. Steady green eyes bored into her own.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” Minerva said calmly. Morgan forced the air into their lungs, still trembling like a leaf.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” Minerva repeated. “Relájate, chica.” With each shaky inhale and exhale, the storm shrank until, with a pop, the air pressure normalized once more.
Minerva plopped down on the ground with a sigh, then patted the spot next to her, urging Morgan to sit. Morgan’s eyes darted to the training room door. They swallowed. Minerva was definitely going to scold Morgan now that they’d lost control—and after a whole week of training, too. Morgan did not want to sit through that.
“Morgan, I’m not mad,” Minerva said with a frown. Morgan stiffened.
“I-I didn’t think you were,” they replied, their smile wooden. Minerva sighed.
“I can read your thoughts, silly. Now sit.”
Morgan’s heart pounded against their ribcage as they sat down next to Minerva, their thoughts racing. If Minerva wasn’t mad, then what the hell did she want to talk about?
“You’re upset, and I’m not going to ask why,” Minerva said slowly, tracing shapes on the floor with her finger. “I can tell that you had a nightmare. Maybe it was about your father. Maybe it was about something else. I’m not going to read further into your mind than that, because that would be rude. But… let me tell you a story.”
“There’s someone walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are too steep for him to climb out, so he waits for someone to pass by.”
Morgan listened quietly, staring a hole into the floor.
“A doctor walks by. The guy shouts up, ‘Hey doc, I’m stuck! Can you help me out?’ The doctor writes a prescription and tosses it in the hole and keeps walking. Then a priest walks by. Our guy shouts out, ‘hey Father, can you help me out?’ The priest writes down a prayer, tosses it in the hole, says ‘I’ll pray for you’ and keeps going.”
Tears began to well up in Morgan’s eyes.
“Finally, a friend walks by. The guy calls out, ‘Hey, I’m stuck down here! Can you help me?’ The friend stops and says, ‘Sure,’ and jumps in the hole. The guy says, ‘What are you, stupid? Now we’re both stuck down here!’ The friend says ‘Yeah, but I’ve been here before and I know the way out.’”
Morgan slowly turned to look at Minerva and found the immortal staring back at her with caring eyes. Tears started to fall down her cheeks.
“I know you don’t like us, or trust us very much,” Minerva said quietly. “I don’t fault you for that at all. But I-I’ve been where you are. My dad—” Minerva averted her gaze. “He wasn’t the best person. So… just know that you’re safe here. That’s all.”
Morgan focused back on the floor, because she didn’t want to admit that Minerva was right on both counts. Morgan did not trust the Ennead as far as she could throw them. But she couldn’t deny that she felt safe here, in the pocket dimension, in a way she never had before.
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