26 Father's Lab Rat

Lights flashed and flicked around the blurry room. Reds, blues, and golds swirling around on an invisible breeze. What could be seen of the room was dull steel, shiny grey metal walls glimmering from some light source.

The beeping of machines broke through the ringing in my ears, making me wince at the loudness. One of the machines must have been for monitoring my vitals, because I felt the small pinch of a needle when I moved my arm.

Cool metal touched the heated skin of my bare back and legs. Only my thin boxers kept me from being fully exposed. I heard the small pitter patter of a drip off to the side. Who knew what was slowly flowing through my sore veins.

Everything hurt and throbbed insistently, reminding me of everything that has happened. Without a window, it was impossible to tell how many days had passed, but I'd given up on ever leaving anyway.

Most of what happened was muddled and I couldn't even remember how I got here. Nor do I know where here is. This was the first time I was without the thick black cloth of my blindfold.

After blinking back the tears causing the blurriness, I was able to make out some of my surroundings. From my vantage point, I could see that I was in a metal room with cabinets, a few metal tables, and hospital equipment.

Was I in a hospital? It felt like a smog had covered my mind, leaving me confused and unaware. A cool breeze caressed my hot skin, but did nothing to ease the heat burning me up from within. Sweat dripped down my body, puddling around me on the table.

I was fluttering in and out of consciousness when I heard a door open with a squeal. A groan leaves me as the loud noise causes a painful jab to my temple. Unhurried footsteps approach, but stop at the foot of my table.

"You look like shit." he says with a chuckle.

Run Run Run. My body thrashes against the leather restraints, but they're too tight. The leather chafes at my wrists and ankles until they're raw and bleeding. I would rather be blindfolded and unaware than stare at the sick grin on my father's face.

"Ya miss me, son?" I only glare up at him. "Hmm, is that any way to look at your father?"

I struggle to collect saliva in my dry mouth, but when I do, I spit it directly in his face. He growls and wipes the foamy spit from his face with a look of disgust. A swift punch to my face has my nose crunching and blood spraying across his knuckles.

"Much better."

He walks around the table to the head, just out of my view. My body tenses when I hear the clinking of jars and his soft humming. Last time I was on a metal table, was when I was younger and he had stabbed me.

Cool metal caresses the area around my Phoenix tattoo and the scar hidden beneath. He remembers too... The blade disappears and a large needle comes into view. Liquid gold swirl around in its containment and a small drop falls from the needle's point.

When the drop hits my chest, a scream leaves my throat and I start thrashing again. He grabs my jaw in a bone-crushing grip and turns my head to the side, baring my neck to him—to the needle.

The prick of the needle is nothing compared to the liquid fire that he enters into my bloodstream. I'm melting from the inside out, fire burning my organs and turning my bones to ash. I open my mouth in a silent scream as the acid in my veins burns me out.

Eventually, the flames die and are replaced with a chill so cold it burns. It's a different burn than it's fire predecessor. Instead of burning me out, ice is crawling up my body, freezing everything in its path.

I'm shivering so violently that I can't tell whether I'm convulsing or having a seizure. My teeth are gritted so tight that they could break at any moment. My usually sun-kissed chest is now a pale blue color, veins of dark blue outlining every rib.

Weakness barrels through me, making me sag to the table with a sigh of relief. I turn my head to the sound of his mumbling and see him writing notes in a dark brown journal. He looks up at me with that mad scientist grin he got when I was younger and I shiver.

"Ready for another one my dear son?" he asks in a sickly sweet voice.

I don't deign to answer, don't even look at him. He fists his hand through my hair and turns my face towards him, a blade directly in front of my wide eye. It's so close that if I were to blink, the silver blade would cut my eyelid.

"I could always take these. The only thing I did like about your mother was her eyes, eyes you guys share."

My voice is raw and scratchy when I speak, "Y-you don't... t-alk 'bout her."

"What was that?" He growls out, putting the point of the blade right in front of my pupil.

He pulls the blade away and goes back to the head of the table, more glasses clinking in his wake. He returned with another needle, this time filled with a green liquid that looked black.

Instead of injecting it directly into me, he injects it into a small tube connected to my IV drip. I watch, in a mixture of fear and anger, as the green-black substance breaks apart and works around the clear liquid, tinting it green.

We sit in silence for awhile, only my raspy pants filling the room. Then, a small cough tickles my throat. He stands quickly and puts a white lab coat, safety googles, and a surgical mask on. An uncomfortable feeling spread across my raw throat, making it both tingle and hurt worse.

The uncomfortable feeling became too much and I let out another cough, followed by another and another. My lungs screamed as the coughs kept me from breathing and blood started spilling from between my parted lips. Blood sprayed when I kept coughing, more and more of the ruby liquid escaping.

I feel a warm liquid pouring out of my clogged nostrils and my ears. It's as if every available escape was draining the blood from me. Black spots started flooding my vision, my mind wading in the line between consciousness. Just as I start to fade away, the coughing still and I take in a choked breath.

I inhale the blood still coating my throat and start coughing again. I'm drowning. Drowning on my own blood. Ragged breaths fill my empty lungs, my chest expanding with each attempt at sucking in air.

"Interesting. That didn't happen the first time I used it on you."

His tone was contemplative and not at all worried for his son that almost died. What did I expect of Grisha, though? What, that he'd run up to me, teeming with guilt and worry for my cough-wracked body? No, Grisha took this in with the calm, curiosity of a scientist.

I can still feel the blood slithering down my raw throat and the small puddle surrounding my head. I'm too worn out to even react when he sticks the thin metal pins in the skin of my arms and thighs. A scream leaves me when he punches my broken ribs.

The bruises, even more noticeable with how pale I am. More punches until a crack and lancing pain spreads through my chest. I pant through gritted teeth and try to blink away the blackness taking over my vision.

"Don't fight it or it will only hurt worse." he says monotonously as he walks away, the door clicking shut behind him.

What does he mean? Don't fight what? No matter how many times I blinked, the darkness only spread until I could no longer see the room. It was like someone turned the light off behind my eyes.

Even with the darkness hindering my sight, I could feel my eyes still blinking—still open. Panic went through me when my sight didn't return. Am I blind?! Why can't I see anything?!

The darkness pushed in on me, pulling me deeper into its depths. And the more I tried to fight back to the surface the more it hurt. I was clawing at the dark walls, even as my fingers started breaking. All of my bones felt brittle, like any small movement would break them.

My lungs screamed from the feeling of the darkness squeezing around me. There was no room for air. No room for anything, except my fragile body, creaking with every attempted breath. I felt hollow and empty of life, even as I distantly heard the droning beep of the machine tracking my vitals.

This was worse than the darkness I was stuck in while comatose. At least I had my own thoughts and memories to keep me company. Here there was nothing, except a silence so deafening that it made my head spin.

My head was empty of thoughts and feeling, leaving me silent and complacent. The pain had eased when I'd quit fighting the darkness, so here I was. I was existing without a purpose or reason, only a space to fill up the emptiness.

It should be infuriating to not have any thoughts, but I only felt a detached numbness. The darkness seemed to echo with a silent thrum, like a phone vibrating on silent. I felt the vibration against my brittle bones, but it made no sound.

This darkness was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable; absent or present; cold or hot. A place that just existed as I now did. My body felt weightless and brittle here, but I could also feel my body in another place, heavy and in pain. It felt similar to de ja vu.

I was in two places at once and yet, not fully in either. My body burned with heat and shivered atop the wet table, but felt nothing here. Something stopped me from completely giving into the darkness, though.

I knew that, if I wanted, I could fade away into blissful peace forever, but something stopped me. There was something keeping me tethered to my body. Something that made me keep fighting to stay where I was and not get pulled into the abyss.

A warbled voice travelled down the tunnel of darkness.

"Eren, are you there?"

Who is Eren? And who is the voice that's searching for them? Thoughts started pelting me like bullets, making my physical body groan in pain. My mental self was still stuck, not sinking but also not rising.

"Eren!"

Eren this, Eren that! Why can't they just leave me be? I was contempt just laying in the peaceful darkness and this person was being annoying.

I feel my fingers twitch, then my toes. A small shudder goes through my body and then I can move again. The blackness starts to give way to the metal room I was in before. Crystal blue eyes swirl with concern above me.

"Eren? Can you hear me?"

I take in her pale skin and the blonde, shoulder-length hair that frames her face. Her eyes look me over, the concern in her eyes only growing the longer she looks.

"I'm so sorry, Eren. I tried to come sooner, but.." Historia bursts into tears and starts sobbing quietly.

My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to her, but weakness has them falling limply to the table. She watches my fingers and flinches when they thud against the metal at my side. I watch her take a deep breath and then she turns to me with a look of determination.

"I'm getting you out of here."

She looks over my body again and reaches out, touching a pin embedded in my arm. A yelp sounds from me when she rips it out. She doesn't give me time to recover before she starts pulling the rest out. I see blood dot each small hole that opens when the pins leave.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head slightly, but that is about all I can manage. Exhaustion and pain blending into a state of semi-consciousness where I know what's going on around me, but it's distant. A hear Historia mumbling, but the ringing in my ears drowns it out.

I feel cool fingers touch my neck and then they disappear along with a yelp that has me forcing my eyes open. Grisha is there, holding Historia back with a smirk.

"Did you really think you could just waltz in and take him?"

Historia turns and faces him, shoulders tense, "My father said that they were to survive a month in the sector and then they were free. You can't do this!"

"Actually, I can little girl. He is technically still surviving in the sector. Your father already knows Eren is here and he didn't stop me."

"Well father told me to get him ready to go." she says, jutting her chin up.

"Yes. Yes. Today is his groups' last day. You can put clothes on him, but nothing else. I'll be back in an hour." Grisha orders and then he's gone.

Historia runs up to me and fumbles with the IV in my arm. I can only assume that she's scared of needles, with her face blanched and turning a pale green. Knowing that I'll get to leave tomorrow has me pushing my weakness away and sitting up slowly.

She tries to push me back down, but I shake my head and motion my head towards my restraints. Taking the hint, she starts unbuckling the thick leather around my wrists and ankles. Cool air hitting the blistered skin, making me hiss.

My hand is shaky when it replaces Historia's in removing the tape and taking the needle out. I lightly touch the raw skin on my wrists and wince at the burning sensation it gives me. My throat is still too sore and dry to talk, but I nod my head in thanks.

"Have you had anything to eat or drink?" She sighs when I shake my head.

She walks out of the room without another word, probably to get said food. My ribs cry out as I sit up fully and twist my legs to dangle off the table. My thighs have small dribbles of blood from the pins, but are otherwise fine.

Most of the damage was to my face and ribs. There might be internal damage as well, but that would have to wait. Nothing could be done, especially since I didn't know what I was even injected with. It felt like acid one minute and dry ice in the next.

Then, there was the injection that sent me into coughing so violent that I was spewing blood. Who knows what all of that did to my organs. Aside from the bruising on my ribs, my skin had turned a sickly white color with black-blue veins crawling up my torso like vines.

They were faint and looked more grey than black, but they were still noticeable. I trace a finger over one of the pulsing marks and cringe at the icy feeling that it radiates. I didn't feel cold, but my body was freezing to the touch.

"What are you doing up, Eren?!" Historia shrieks from the doorway.

I cover my ears at the offensive noise, making a look of guilt pass over her face. She sends me a tight-lipped smile and hands me a cup of applesauce and a spoon. My stomach growls at the sight of the food.

I shovel the applesauce into my mouth and swallow it before my body even has time to react to the food I just ate. My stomach makes another noise, this one sounding like a gurgle, and I cover my mouth.

Historia jumps back in time to avoid the bile and undigested applesauce that came spilling out of my mouth. The bile burned a path up my throat as I continued to heave until there was nothing left. My ribs protested the way my stomach was tensing with each wave of nausea that passed.

"Okay, maybe just drink some water."

She hands me some water and then steps back again, probably to avoid getting thrown up on if I reacted the same with the water. This time, I took a small, tentative sip of the cool water and swallowed, giving it time to settle. When nothing happened, I continued to take small sips until half the water was gone.

The liquid slid down my dry throat, cooling and easing as it went. Relief coursed through me when the copper taste disappeared from my mouth.

"Alright?"

I hum in response and scoot to the foot of the metal table, moving away from the spot where I got sick. Color starts to return to her face and I snort at the relieved look she sends my way.

"Ereeeeen..." she whines, drawing the e out.

Ignoring her whining, I use my hands to hold myself up as I place my bare feet on the cold floor. My legs shake violently, but I refuse to crumple after finally being free. Inner strength doesn't control my physical strength however, so I collapse to the floor with a whimper.

"Can you not stand?"

I want to respond with sarcasm, but I'm too scared that talking will put me into another coughing fit, so I just shake my head. She wraps her arms around my waist and supports me so I can sit back on the table.

"Just dress on the table. Grisha will come back for us then we can go with our group. Let me go get Ymir real quick." she says, sitting a pile of clothes next to me and leaving me to change.

Ymir is here? I wondered where she was when she didn't get paired and sent up in a chopper. Maybe her closeness to Historia gave her a free pass... I grab the baggy dark green sweater and toss it over my head, putting it on as quickly as I could with broken ribs.

I peel my underwear off and wiggle the other pair around my hips. For the sweats, I brace a hand on the table and work the warm fabric over each leg carefully. Once the fabric is at my thighs, I shimmy it the rest of the way up and tighten the drawstrings.

The door squeaks open and I turn to see Historia trailed by Ymir. I push myself back onto the table weakly and send them both a tired smile. The usually sarcastic and uncaring Ymir is now looking me over with shock.

"What happened to you?" she breathes out.

I shrug and nod my head towards Historia, hoping she'll explain. I didn't wish to talk or think about the torture and experiments I'd been put through for who knows how long. Each word was clipped and ended with an edge when Historia filled Ymir in.

Historia couldn't tell her everything, because she only saw the injuries, not the cause. She only knew that he tortured me physically. Ymir mutters a string of curses under her breath and turns to me with a look of understanding that caught me off-guard.

Did someone close to her do something like this, as well? Ymir was always closed off and kept to herself, except when she was around Historia. I doubt she told Historia, but she did trust her enough that she would talk when she was ready.

I slip socks over my icy feet and then turn to the worn black converse sitting next to me. The girls step on either side of me and take a shoe, helping me put them on without another word. I nod my head in thanks when they finish double-knotting the laces and step back.

Boots stomp through the door and walk past the two girls, letting me see Grisha approach. His grin is closer to a sneer when he takes in my clothed body.

"Time to go. Come on guys."

"Where are we going, Grisha?" Historia asks carefully.

"It's a surprise."

His words only raise my anxiety, making adrenaline start to build up in me. He grabs me by my hair and pulls me to the floor, making me cry out when the fall jolts my ribs. The girls follow behind us helplessly while Grisha drags me upstairs.

Each step sends stabbing pain up my torso and, by the time we reach the top of the stairs, I bet everything I own that my ass and lower back is black and blue. I'm nowhere near tender-headed, but the hand yanking me by my hair has me whimpering at every tug.

My scalp burns at the force he's using with my brown hair, but he only grips it harder when I struggle. So I fall limp and let him take us outside the complex. Rocks pierce through the fabric of my sweater and sweats, digging into my sensitive skin.

Whatever Grisha injected me with made every slight movement of the fabric on my skin painful. It left a burning trail that lasted only a moment, but the pain stayed behind. I hiss up at Grisha when he jerks me to the side, making me fall roughly on the gravel.

"Well, they're here." Grisha says to no one in particular.

Grisha's body is blocking my view, but I hear the gravel skittering as people approach us. I look up at the girls to see them staring at the strangers with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Let them go!" A voice I would know anywhere, yells.

Grisha tsks and moves to the side so I can see my group, my friends. They're all looking at me with teary eyes and anger as they look over my injured body. It must be a shock to see the normally-strong Eren looking like a weak mess.

Before Grisha got there, I got a quick peak at myself and let me tell you... It was nasty and I honestly scared myself. My face was pale, drying blood under my nose and around my mouth, and blood going down my ears all the way to my neck. They couldn't see all my wounds, but my face probably told them that it wasn't pretty.

I see Erwin holding back a furious Armin and Jean having similar struggles with Mikasa.

"They are free to go." Grisha says monotonously.

The girls go to grab me, but stop when Grisha steps in front of me and clicks his tongue.

Historia looks at him with anger and confusion, "I thought you said we were free to go."

"You two are, now go before I change my mind."

They both look at me, conflicted, but I nod my head for them to obey him. I don't want my friends anywhere near my monster of a father, even if I'm forced to endure it. They scurry over to the rest of group and Erwin steps forward.

"Eren is part of our group. We want him too."

Grisha's grin is downright demonic when he looks at Levi's emotionless face, "You still have one more day to survive, so he'll stay with me."

Armin steps forward, "And let you kill him. Not a chance in hell!" he yells angrily.

"Levi, come here."

Levi and Erwin share a look and then he's standing in front of Grisha. He raises an eyebrow at the 10 mm Grisha extends toward him. A 10 mm that I instantly recognize from so many years ago. Irony at its finest people.

Levi takes the gun cautiously, "What is this for?"

I have an idea, but I'm hoping it's not true. Grisha's words have me falling limp on the rocks below me.

"Your group has one more day to survive or... You can kill one more person and be free. I happen to have the person who killed your sister right here." Grisha says, waving a hand at my prone form.

Everyone in our group goes very silent, some sharing looks of surprise while others look uncertain. After what Levi admitted about almost leaving me for dead, I wouldn't doubt that he'd pull the trigger. I would hate to die, but at least if he killed me, my father wouldn't be able to hurt me anymore.

I surprised myself when I whispered, "Do it..."

Grisha's grin is victorious when he takes in the tears streaming down my dirty cheeks. He knew he'd finally broken me.

Levi stands between Grisha and I with an unreadable look in his silver eyes.

"Please.." Armin sobs, dropping to his knees in the grass.

Mikasa is glaring at Levi's back and clenching her fists, like it's the only thing keeping her from charging forward. The Levisquad has never doubted their Captain, but right now—right now they couldn't read his next move.

I turn my stare back to his beautiful eyes, the eyes of my Captain and the man I fell in love with. No matter what he decided, I would still love him the same.

His silver eyes fill with unshed tears and then he pulls the trigger.