Okay here's day 7 for @kotor-week week. I have no idea what freeform means so I did whatever I want. Here's the first chapter/scene to my novelization and its under a cut because its uh.. intense and the ✨️Mind Wipe✨️:
“mommy! Mom! Come back mom!” Cried a strained voice. It rasped with utmost desperation, of life and death, of fear and cold absent comfort. Despite the mask over their mouth and nose, they still screeched for mom and dad through the silicone. Even with the sterile, bitter gas clogging their senses and seeping the force away from them…
Buir— mom— the languages blurred and mixed. The hyperglot voice cycled again and again, each language crying for the same person.
*Mom! Come back mom I'm scared!*
The owner of the voice thrashed and pulled against their restraints, fabric and cords dug into their wrists. However their efforts and strength rose to no avail. Their energy and strength seeped from them.
The grey and white of their sterile, fluorescent prison walls warped and bled into each other. The victim was powerless, and the sickening sourness of their estranged heart rotted inside their chest. The victim already felt the diseased flies swarming it. Their scorched skull strangled their thoughts, their trepidation and terror played puppeteer for the rasped, sore, enslaved vocal cords.
“Mom help me!” that voice shrieked. Shadows enclosed around them. Their blood crackled and raged with a static-electric hum. The victim clung to that feeling within their veins— their nerves— their very cerebellum. Yet another cog in their living machine. Something they've always lived with, something they should know better than their own name—
But their name was gone, and this feeling--- the force--- was slowly pushed away with it.
The victim looked over the mask over their lower face, the failing sedatives dried out their mouth, working just enough to blur their vision. The man before them was a purple smudge, he pulled against that feeling. The victim drew upon it before the man stripped it, before he carved their heart out of their chest, as they thrashed once again and screamed. Their wrists now bloody and sore. Their lungs spasmed in a coughing fit.
“Brace yourself, Eevie, there’s one more round to go,” the man said in a faux soothing tone. Their breathing only quickened, that name wasn’t theirs anymore, was it?
*WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME—*
The steady beat of their heart monitor quickened as two devices clamped the sides of their head. Their chest heaved, Eevie gasped for what little air they got through their efforts. The sedatives failed, their blood erupted into an electrifying storm as their skull was locked in place.
“Three, two, one, clear!”
White. Their vision went white. Electric, searing, excruciating pain scraping the insides of their skull. Their broken thoughts scattered, as memories played, then evanced within their consciousness. Forgotten. Just like that previously clashing, incorrect, painful name. Just like that feeling. Just like… everything… forgotten glory. *What glory?*
“Mom! Mom help me!” The victim shrieked before any coherent noise drowned in an incoherent and disjointed howling as their mind rose and fell and exploded yet imploded. Thought bled down to the faint, dying, electrical zaps between neurons before extinguishing altogether like an overloaded light. That feeling, that sixth sense, that single grounding thing? Shattered with that broken light bulb. That slaughtered electrocuted brilliance.
“I’m so sorry it came to this, Eevie,” the soft-sounding man from earlier croaked out. They calmed, shifting slightly, adjusting their swollen tongue in their mouth. But who am I who am… tired… The victim's limbs were stuck to the bed, too heavy to move now. “I’m sorry we failed you…”
“Don’t call them that anymore,” someone else barks, their voice mixing with the cacophony of dying electricity and medical equipment, “that name no longer exists.”
The IV in their arm pinched, the nameless victim shivered from the chilled room of erasure. A twi’lek stood over them, with pity and sorrow in his eyes. Then, another man, dressed in pale blue, hovered on their other side, taking their vitals. Yet another prison, but there was no hope to escape.
“mom…” Their mother never comes, but the tool doesn’t care. That fear faded with their very being, as the tool became nothing more than a shell. They couldn’t recall knowing their parents anymore. Not that it mattered. Their mind fades to an expanse of white. Blank, as they forget who they are… what they are… The victim goes quiet, closing their eyes, mourning something they never recalled knowing.
“Rest well, Renier,” the soothing man said, his voice crumbling to pieces.
