Work Text:
In a small playground full of young kids, Nora sat at a picnic bench with a couple of textbooks and a notebook. Occasionally, she glanced up to check on a figure who kept rapidly swinging along the monkey bars, sometimes slowing down to show someone else how it was done or stopping to let another kid try, then racing over to another piece of equipment until the bars opened again.
Nora smiled at her sister, who was currently an excited six-year-old, before turning her attention back to her books. As much as she would love to join Hope, her scholarship would only last if her grades stayed up. A scholarship she needed if she wanted to make sure her siblings had the best life possible.
A high and sharp whistle rang through the cheerful playground, which was suddenly far too quiet and terrifyingly empty, causing Nora to run towards the sound before she realized what was happening. Two men were trying to grab Hope. Hope was doing a good job, snarling, kicking, biting, and going limb when they tried to pick her up. She even broke the skin on the hand that tried to cover her mouth, but she was still a six-year-old little girl fighting two grown men. Despite running as fast as she could and moving in a straight line, the distance only seemed to grow.
When Storm appeared, finally arriving from work, Nora almost breathed a sigh of relief. Even as she seemed to be falling behind, Storm was gaining on the men who had only made it about halfway to a van Nora was only now noticing. That relief turned to dread as Storm began to fight the men. Storm managed to land a few good hits. They even knocked one of the men's teeth out, but it wasn’t enough. Not when one of them pulled out a gun. She was still running, desperate, no longer losing distance, but stuck in place. Nora tried to scream, to warn Storm, but the words were strangled in her throat.
Storm hit the ground, and the man holding the gun that had just taken her sibling turned to Hope, who was staring at Storm instead of running. Nora could feel blood in her throat from her screams, still trying to reach her sister, as the man adjusted his grip and pistol-whipped the little girl.
‘This isn’t right!“ Nora’s thoughts raced. ”I remember this isn’t how it went. They never even got a chance to draw the gun! I need to wake up! Wake up!’
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“Hello?” Storm called as they wandered through the house, voice quietly echoing back. “Mom? Nora? Hope?”
They had never heard the house so quiet. There was always some noise. Mom’s humming, Nora flipping through papers, and Hope running around. There should be noise—signs of life. Instead, the house was empty, dead. Except, there was a light under the kitchen door. Storm picked up their speed and pushed open the door, only to instantly freeze.
Their sisters were there, but only physically. Nora’s hair was down, something she hated almost as much as she hated cutting it, and she wore a dress, not too unusual, except it was far too fancy, the itchy types a parent or society forces you into even as you swear to tear the dress apart first chance you get, not her soft, comfy skirts and sweaters. She also wore metal jewelry, which sucked away her warmth Nora claimed. There were bruises hidden by make-up and peeking out from her clothes, which was not that uncommon when she was a preteen/teen, but now, and that she was hiding it? That was raising red flags. The worst part, though, was the complete blankness covering her face. There was none of her constant thinking, scheming, or hidden mischief. Just the dead-eyed blankness of a broken soul staring at nothing as she sat perfectly still at the table.
Hope was not any better. She was wearing a dress, which she hated under all circumstances, and was far too quiet. Hope was bold and fearless, loud despite her lack of voice, and impossible to ignore unless she was sneaking. Yet, here she was. Hope’s eyes darted everywhere as she curled into herself, trying to be as small as possible. She made no noise as she moved, and Storm saw something that nearly made their heart stop. On her arm was a bruise in the shape of a large hand.
Storm approached Hope to find out who hurt her when a voice stopped them, “What are you doing back here, boy?”
Hope gave a whole body flinch and darted into a corner to hide, while Nora became so impossibly more still she barely seemed to breathe. Storm felt a similar horror overcome them, heart nearly stopping and eyes wide as they slowly turned, feeling every bit the five-year-old they were the last time they heard that voice.
There he was, looking exactly as they remembered him. His suit was perfectly pressed, tie straight, dark hair combed, beard impeccably trimmed, and eyes as cold as ice. That was impossible, though. Mom had taken care of him. She had promised he could never hurt them again. Before Hope had even been born. He couldn’t be here. Mom had promised after he-
“Well, boy?” The man demanded. “Your father asked a question, now answer.”
“Not my father,” Storm responded on instinct, even as their heart tried to beat out of their chest. “Sperm donor.”
The slap didn’t surprise them, even as they stumbled backward from the force. It wasn’t the first time. They heard the scrape of a chair, and, looking over, Nora had stood. Her hands were clenched, and she seemed to be having an internal battle as a spark struggled to come to her eyes. Hope had even taken a step out of her corner.
“Do not,” Nora’s voice was hoarse as it was soft, as if she was out of practice speaking. “Hurt them.”
The man turned his snarling face to Nora, and Storm tried to move. They tried to save Nora from their donor’s wrath but couldn’t move. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real. A dead man could not hurt them, could not break their sisters. This could not be real. This was a nightmare. They needed to wake up. WAKE UP!
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A long whistle echoed through the dark, sterile halls as Hope walked through them. Where was everyone? She felt like she had been calling out for hours. Nora and Storm never ignored her calls. Even if they couldn’t immediately come to her, they would call back so she could find them or let her know they were busy at the moment. They never ignored her.
Where even was she? The place looked like a hospital, but there were no doctors, nurses, or patients. All the doors were heavy and made of metal, and she had never heard of a hospital made of concrete. It felt like something from those horror movies she sometimes convinces Storm, or whoever is sitting her, to let her watch or snuck down and watch with Storm without them knowing. It was not somewhere she wanted to be alone. Hope hated being alone.
Hope was about to start whistling when she heard something. People. Talking. She reached the source and opened a door leading her to a living room. Her siblings, along with a number of their friends, were having a small gathering in it. It was weird, though. Hope had slammed the door open, entering, yet no one noticed her. Not even Hope’s siblings, and they almost always noticed her, no matter how quiet she was. This was weird. It was scary.
Hope whistled the two notes meant to let Nora and Storm know she wanted or needed them, but neither of them so much as twitched. Why could they not hear her? Hope pushed her way through the crowd, people she had known for years, ignoring her completely; it felt like she was utterly invisible. Once she reached them, Nora and Storm were still talking to someone she couldn’t see. They still hadn’t noticed her. Why? Hope puffed her cheeks out as she went to tug on Storm’s arm… only for her hand to go right through them.
Hope stared at her hands in shock for a moment before trying to grab Storm again and again and again. She turned to Nora, trying to touch her, but no matter what she did, Hope’s body just kept phasing through them. Hope couldn't feel them either. She whistled and tried jumping in front of them, anything to get their attention, but it was like she wasn’t real.
‘Look at me!’ She wanted to scream, knowing she would fail. ‘Look at me! I’m here! I’m real! I’m real! I’m a person! I’m real!’ Why could no one see her!? Everyone was walking through her without a glance. She was a ghost.
This is a nightmare. She wanted to wake up. Why wasn’t she able to? Wake up! WAKE UP!
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