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[hypnos] daddy, daddy, you bastard
[[ tw for murder, drugging, sort-of mind control, manipulation ]]
The bow is in your hands. It's pulled back, taut, the arrow aching to be released. It feels familiar, the weight and the pressure of it, the way your fingers curl around it, the way you sight it, line it up with your target. You're good at this. Your form is perfect and your aim will be spot on. You will not miss.
"Kill her, Thea. Put arrows in her chest. Kill Sara Lance," Dad says. You can't say no. This is what you've been told to do. So you do it. You don't want to.
You don't want to do this. You're not in control of yourself. It's Dad. He is. You don't want to do this, you don't want to do this. You can't fight against it. You try. You fucking try. Sara is your friend, she's known you since you were a little girl. She used to braid your hair and do your makeup. She's your friend, Sara's your friend. You want her alive and happy and well. You don't YOU DON'T want this you don't want this. "Dad, don't make me do this." But she turns around looking lethal in her black leather and her Canary mask. "What're you doing here?" she asks.
And you put the arrows in her chest.
That's it. It's over, you think. You don't have to kill anyone else. But dear old Dad has other plans. He's still controlling you. You can't not follow his orders. His voice is quiet and smooth and you remember all the times that same voice praised you for your skill and your talent. "Good job, Thea. I'm proud of you." That voice that voice tells you to kill keep killing.
Next is Roy, standing right where Sara stood. Your heart aches for him. You love him you still love him. He's the boy who stole your heart (and your purse) and taught you how to breathe again. He's your best friend. He never gave up on you.
You love him you love him and you want to tell him. Tell him.
You put arrows in him instead.
You're crying now. The tears are hot on your cheeks and you're begging b e g g i n g for him to stop, "Dad, please stop." You don't want to do this, not this, don't do this.
This isn't who you are.
And then there's Ollie, right in line behind Sara and Roy. Your big brother, your hero, the only family you really have left. Not him, not him, anyone but him. But you've already killed anyone else. He's the only one that's left. All you have left.
Dad whispers more suggestions into you ear. You sob but you hold the bow steady, so steady, and you won't miss, you won't miss. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hardly hear what he's saying anymore.
"Kill him, Thea. Kill your brother."
You don't want to. God no, please no, you don't want to, you don't want to, please please please not Ollie, anyone but Ollie, not her brother, not-- But this is who you are. Dad reminds you, coaxes you. You're just like him.
You put an arrow through your brother's heart.
The bow is in your hands. It's pulled back, taut, the arrow aching to be released. It feels familiar, the weight and the pressure of it, the way your fingers curl around it, the way you sight it, line it up with your target. You're good at this. Your form is perfect and your aim will be spot on. You will not miss.
You want to miss.
"Kill her, Thea. Put arrows in her chest. Kill Sara Lance," Dad says. You can't say no. This is what you've been told to do. So you do it. You don't want to.
You don't want to do this. You're not in control of yourself. It's Dad. He is. You don't want to do this, you don't want to do this. You can't fight against it. You try. You fucking try. Sara is your friend, she's known you since you were a little girl. She used to braid your hair and do your makeup. She's your friend, Sara's your friend. You want her alive and happy and well. You don't YOU DON'T want this you don't want this. "Dad, don't make me do this." But she turns around looking lethal in her black leather and her Canary mask. "What're you doing here?" she asks.
And you put the arrows in her chest.
She's your friend.
That's it. It's over, you think. You don't have to kill anyone else. But dear old Dad has other plans. He's still controlling you. You can't not follow his orders. His voice is quiet and smooth and you remember all the times that same voice praised you for your skill and your talent. "Good job, Thea. I'm proud of you." That voice that voice tells you to kill keep killing.
Next is Roy, standing right where Sara stood. Your heart aches for him. You love him you still love him. He's the boy who stole your heart (and your purse) and taught you how to breathe again. He's your best friend. He never gave up on you.
You love him you love him and you want to tell him. Tell him.
You put arrows in him instead.
You love him.
You're crying now. The tears are hot on your cheeks and you're begging b e g g i n g for him to stop, "Dad, please stop." You don't want to do this, not this, don't do this.
This isn't who you are.
And then there's Ollie, right in line behind Sara and Roy. Your big brother, your hero, the only family you really have left. Not him, not him, anyone but him. But you've already killed anyone else. He's the only one that's left. All you have left.
Dad whispers more suggestions into you ear. You sob but you hold the bow steady, so steady, and you won't miss, you won't miss. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hardly hear what he's saying anymore.
"Kill him, Thea. Kill your brother."
You don't want to. God no, please no, you don't want to, you don't want to, please please please not Ollie, anyone but Ollie, not her brother, not-- But this is who you are. Dad reminds you, coaxes you. You're just like him.
You're a monster.
You put an arrow through your brother's heart.
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Thea? Thea, you might want to wake up.
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What--
[ Her voice is thick with tears and she has to stop and swallow, clear her throat. One hand reaches for the tablet on the bedside table while the other wipes at her face, trying to get rid of the tears. They just keep coming, though. She pulls the tablet into her lap anyway, trembling fingers still wiping her face. ]
Cissie?
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[It's the kindest way to let her know that her dream was broadcast, too. It feels important to warn her, even a little.]
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Oh my God.
[ The tablet is abandoned in favor of covering her face with her hands. Now the entire freaking hotel knows she's a murderer. ]
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Your father's a sick man.
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[ She's managed to get her crying under control, but her eyes are rimmed red and she looks tired, sort of wrecked. But she's more put together than she was when she was talking to Cissie.
She picks absently at a thread on her pajama shorts. ]
I just wish I would've realized that sooner than I did.
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Do you... need anything?
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[ Though it would've been great if she would've figured it out before he made her kill Sara. ]
I don't think so. I just... need to stay awake.
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Either she wants someone to talk to, or she doesn't. It doesn't have to be about the nightmare. Sometimes just the reminder that someone else is around counts for something.] Hey.
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So, yes, she's still awake. She's cried herself out and now she's tired and just trying to stay awake. ]
Hey.
[ She's maybe a little apprehensive. This isn't the most ideal way to meet people, after all. ]
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[For what it's worth, she hasn't been eavesdropping on Thea's nightmares. The whole thing doesn't sit well with her, including participating by paying attention. She doesn't want to give this place the satisfaction. Anything Emma wants to know about her fellow captives, she'll ask.
But it's not about that right now, so she shrugs, awkwardly, and shifts the tablet while she curls up in a chair.]
You've been here for a while, haven't you? I'm Emma.
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[ Just a lot of her killing people. No big deal. She has to keep reminding herself that it was just a nightmare and that Malcolm doesn't have a handle on her anymore, he's not in control of her. He can't hurt her. It's more difficult to believe than she would like.
She's sitting up in the middle of her bed, because she's afraid if she gets too comfortable she might fall asleep again. ]
Going on three months, yeah. [ She tries a smile. It's faint and only minimally successful. ] I'm Thea.
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You're not.
You're worth more then they are.
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Thank you. I think I needed that.
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You're welcome.
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[ It's nice to talk to someone who seems to get it. Nice, if not a little morbid. ]
I'm Thea. But I guess you probably already gathered that much.
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it's only a dream.
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I know.
[ Most of it was a dream. She did kill Sara. Malcolm made her kill Sara. And she's so scared that it'll happen again. ]
It didn't feel like only a dream.
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Was it your memories?
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But what do you even say to something like that.]
Hey.
[Great start, Clara.]
I think you're probably not a monster.
[Really not any better.]
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Thanks. [ It's sincere. She means it. ] It's a little harder to believe it myself.
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[She can't really speak to feeling like a monster, not that way, but she's thought plenty of other bad things about herself. Usually it turns out it's not as bad as she thinks. She hopes it's the same for Thea.]
Good people do bad things too. Especially when they think they haven't got a choice.
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