IT WAS WINTER AND THE ROOM WAS COLD. It seemed the Lab couldn't spare expenses on warming its experiments.

     Sar had her side pressed against Eight's bony one, the two of them at one of the white-sheeted beds at the corners. The sheets had been torn at the edges on the sharp metal bars encaging the bed, and hung in tatters down the side. Sar was twisting three of the strips around each other, braiding it just as Lune had taught her. 

     Eight copied her by her side, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her bruised fingers wound the braids slowly into the ripped sheets.

     "You've got it," Sar whispered to silent Eight. The girl hardly ever talked—Sar couldn't have imagined what she'd seen. A pretty smile worked its way across Eight's face slowly. They were beside the loose tile in the wall: the one which inside was hidden a stuffed tiger, still covered in a fine dusting of ash—though it wasn't Sar's.

     "They're coming," Two said, opening her silver eyes. James pulled Sar backwards on her stomach, away from the grips of the braids and across the floor; and Two grabbed Eight to lift her onto the bed. It was just them four today, the other five out for experimentation. It was Sar's fourth year. She couldn't even remember what Outside looked like.

     Sar had only managed to throw herself on her own bed when booted footsteps slammed down the hall—Two was always right—and James straightened himself out against his metal bedhead.

     There was the click of an electronic lock and the man walked in. He was middle-aged, a guard by his uniform, bearded and rounded, though his face held a particular cruelty and his lips were twisted. His taser was out in one hand—for seemingly no reason—and Sar shrunk beneath his gaze.

     They were silent as he strode across the tiled room. That's not right, Sar thought, and sat up, Papa usually tells us when he wants testing.

     The man yanked Eight off the bed, hand clutched firmly around her right wrist. He dragged Eight towards the doors, Eight trying to pry her small wrist from the man's crushing grip. She tried to plant her feet but found herself being pulled along anyway.

     Sar got up then, rising along with James. "Hey!" James exclaimed.

     The guard paused at Eight's resistance. He said something foul and Eight winced at the cruel words. He slapped Eight across the face and Sar screamed in protest. 

     Sar leapt out of bed and threw herself at Eight, clutching onto the girl's other arm with both hands. "Let her go!" Sar yelled. "Let her go!" God knows what he'd do to Eight once he got out of this room.

     "Leave her alone!" Two shouted, already flying off her own bed. She cannoned into the guard, nearly knocking him off balance. She sunk her fingernails into his other arm and the man yelled. Two was small, and she was thin like bones, but Sar knew she kept her fingernails long and she had no doubt they hurt. Two's golden wishbone necklace glinted in the laboratory light around Two's neck.

     James was at their other side, helping to pry Eight away from the guard with Sar. But the guard swung his gun down, and what was a weak, sixteen-year-old girl to do to protected herself from that? The metal shattered into Two's nose and Two staggered back, hitting the ground hard.

     James managed to hit the man then, striking the side of his face with a curled fist. It was, of course, forbidden to hit a guard or any member of the lab's staff. He dodged the guard's own blow and hit him again. And Sar wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she did knock the taser from the guard's hands and sent it sliding across the room near the door.

     She was clinging to Eight, fingers protectively around the girl's head, though Eight may have been a few years older than her. When the guard stepped back and James fell into line with Two—still crouched on the ground clutching a bloody nose—Sar held Eight tighter.

     The man spat in Eight's face and Eight winced with a sob and Sar shouted again and pulled Eight back further. He hissed the foul word again which made Eight sob and clasp her hands over her ears—though Sar didn't quite know what it meant, Eight seemed quite accustomed to it. Then he backed away from the four of them, like a frightened but snarling dog.

     He picked up his taser as he left, only stopping momentarily to point the gun threateningly at James, now towering between the pained figure of Two and the sitting younger girls. James raised his hands only slightly in casual surrender.

     For a second the man's hand trembled on the taser gun, as if itching to hit one of 'the stupid lab rats'—but Brenner would have his head if one of his experiments were majorly hurt. And so the man stepped behind the sliding door bars and let it shut with a hiss.

     The moment the barred door slammed shut and the lock beeped closed, Eight fell back into Sar with a soft wail and Two hissed out in pain. While Sar and Eight sat down on the floor, James knelt beside Two, who was clutching her nose. Blood seeped between her stark-white fingers, dripping on the floor. He fussed over her, hands sliding over her face as he whispered frantically.

     "I'm fine," Two told James, though her hair was covered in blood. "I'm fine."

     "You're not," James said, and touched Two's hair as gently as if touching a frightened bird. His hands flittered across her pale face and he wiped the blood from under her nose with his sleeve.

     "I am," Two said, because she was looking at Eight who was crying and held by Sar. Two's nose was most definitely fracture at the least, spurting blood.

     "Fuck, Emma," he said as she pressed her hand to Two's bloody nose. She sat with her knees drawn against her chest. James pulled her hand away so he could press a strip of sheet to it.

     He kissed the pale-haired girl on the lips softly, despite the blood—and Sar watched them as she held Eight tight in her arms, star's spinning in the couple's eyes. She thought she would never be able to understand how someone could be so in love.

•°•☆•°•


     SARA LOOKED SICKLY PALE IN THE WHITE BED. It swarmed her body, making her look small and thin and weak. She had bruises across her face, deep purple and blue, from burst blood vessels. They surrounded the bridge of her nose, the corners of her lips and splattered against her cheek bones like blue kisses. Veins had reached the surface of her closed eyelids, blooming them in purple zigzag lines. She looked like a painter's masterpiece, and downfall.

     The room was cold, windows sealed and blocked, though night seeped through the glass. It painted Sar and the bed with pale moonlight and the shadowed glow of thousands of stars.

     Steve was beside her, kneeling on the floor though his arms and head rested on the bed next to her body. His eyes were closed too.

     Sar's eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot through, blinking heavily. Her vision on the roof was blurry and unsettling, aching with each movement. They stung with dryness. Her throat burned too, an itching fire at the base of her neck.

     She made a sleepy, indignant noise at the pain, squinting. Her head hammered with pain and confusion.

     Steve looked over at her, eyes wide. She rolled her head over to look at him. Every inch of her face ached. Her bruises rippled like the surface of water with each wince. "Hurts," she said.

     Steve squeezed her hand in his, running his thumb over the backs of her fingers. "I know," he told her. She blinked slowly at him, still dozy. His eyes were rounded with concern, hair a mess, like he hadn't even tried to fix it since the junkyard. Sar wanted to touch it, but couldn't quite find the strength to. She hadn't even the energy to lift her head off the pillow.

     She watched their hands silently for a moment, still under the veil of sleep. "Thank you for getting me out of there, Steve," she murmured. She slipped her fingers in between his and lay them by her side. His eyes darted to her face in surprise at the action, but she was just watching their clasped hands.

     "Of course, Sar. I wasn't going to leave you there." A smile appeared on her lips.

     Her gaze moved to meet his own, blue meeting brown. She'd never really thought brown eyes as special—but now Sar thought she could see the earth inside them. "Come up here," she mumbled, reaching a hand over to tap the bed beside her. Her eyes were trained softly on his face.

     He looked confused at the request. Steve seemed to edge away from her. "Sar—"

     "Just... come." Sar was looking more tired now, eyes weary. She slowly dragged her hand away from his, as if ashamed. She looked disappointed. There was a beat of silence.

     With a soft exhale of breath, Steve rose from his position. He flopped on the other side of the bed, covers disrupting around the two of them. Sar smiled at his inability to be smooth. "Like a ninja," he told her as she tried to hide a tired smile.

     "A ninja," she echoed softly. Her eyes stung with dryness and she brought up a hand to rub at them. She smile slowly disappeared and that shamed look came back. "I'm sorry," Sara murmured, shifting away from Steve slowly. She shifted again, blankets resting over the curve of her shoulder. "It just feels... safer." She paused with seemingly shame. "I just keep seeing the demogorgons and... we almost died, Steve. I can't stop thinking about it." Sar swallowed. "The kids almost died." She pulled her lips in a thin line, the corners tilting up slightly in a bitter expression. "I've almost died a lot of times."

     Steve's eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head quickly. "You don't have to be apologetic, Sar. I understand." He said it as if he really understood, and Sar wondered if he really did. She wondered if anyone really could understand the pain she was talking about which had grown like an sickness after each child's death. She did wonder.

     Sar settled herself back down comfortably, still facing Steve. Her eyes began to slope with tiredness. Steve pulled the pillow beneath his elbow so he could watch her safely. Sar's eyes were fluttering slightly, face still splotched in mismatched bruises. Her blonde hair was in small frizzles around her face. (She still looked drop-dead beautiful). "Can't be asleep for too long. The Party's out there, waiting for us," Steve said.

     "Mhmm," Sar murmured. She dropped her head on the pillow, tucked one of her arms beneath Steve's, and closed her eyes.

•°•☆•°•

SIKE I MANAGED TO GET A CHAPTER UP!! I did zero homework to get this chapter done (this and trying to read A Sea of Strangers + Clockwork Angel (for the second time) at the same time). For all of you who are new / don't remember, I update every Monday and Thursday, Australian time! 

Also your comments give me life and make me so happy, so if you enjoyed I'd love it if you commented and told me what you liked or what you want to see, because I appreciate it so much! Literally the only reasons I update in the mornings now (my time), even though it's harder is so I can see all your comments and votes while I'm at school having a shit time—cause you guys make me so happy and THANK YOU!!!

I love sleepy Sar. Go sleepy Sar!

Also fuck I know literally everyone hates Kali and yeah she's a psychopath and literally a serial killer and manipulated El, so fair—but writing this story has just made me think about how much shit she must have gone through in the lab and I just CAN'T HATE HER.

Why does this chapter make me weak? Also hello people with brown eyes your eye colour is my favourite so don't say they're boring because i love them!!!

word count: 2,073

14/5/2018