chapter seven:
❛ the source ❜

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Scarlett sat beside Eleven, her fingers gripping the cold metal arms of the chair as Dr. Brenner loomed over them. The stark, sterile room around them buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, the fluorescent lights casting an unforgiving glow on every surface. Scarlett glanced at Eleven, her heart pounding in her chest, echoing the dread she saw mirrored in the other girl's wide, haunted eyes. They both wanted to leave, to escape this suffocating place, but neither of them had that choice anymore.

Dr. Brenner stood in front of a large screen, looking intently at the brain scans displayed. He spoke in a soft, clinical tone, his words methodical and precise, cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

"Do you know what happens when someone has a stroke?" Brenner's voice lingered in the air, waiting for a response, but neither girl answered. Scarlett didn't trust her voice, and she could feel the tension radiating from Eleven as well. They both remained quiet, their unease thickening the room.

"The blood supply to the brain is cut off," Brenner continued, undeterred by their silence, as though he was giving a lecture to a class rather than speaking to two terrified girls. "It scrambles the signals in the brain, to the point where the mind can forget how to do things. To eat. To speak. To walk."

Scarlett's stomach twisted as Brenner's words sank in, his calm explanation feeling like a warning. She shifted in her seat, a familiar dread building in the pit of her stomach. The memories from the previous year were hazy, incomplete, and the thought of facing them again terrified her.

Brenner's gaze turned to them, finally breaking from the screen. "When you were both attacked last year, I believe that your signals were scrambled in much the same way," he explained, stepping closer. Scarlett stiffened, her body tense as Brenner approached, his presence like a looming shadow over her and Eleven. "But just as a stroke victim can learn to walk again, I believe you, too, can return to your full power."

His words hung heavy in the air. Return to your full power. Scarlett's fingers twitched in her lap, instinctively pressing against the cold steel of the chair. Her mind raced, trying to grasp the idea of reclaiming her abilities, of facing the trauma she had fought so hard to bury. Could she do that? Did she even want to?

Brenner moved toward Eleven first, gently placing a hand on her head. Scarlett could see the tension ripple through Eleven's body, her jaw clenched as Brenner held her, his voice soft but unnerving. "Your abilities are still in here," he said, his voice almost a whisper, coaxing her power from deep within her mind. Then, as if performing the same ritual, he turned to Scarlett. His hand hovered before resting lightly on her forehead, cold fingers pressing against her skin.

"And your memories are controlled here," he said, his touch sending a shiver down Scarlett's spine. "You just need to remember."

Scarlett's breath hitched in her throat. Her memories. The ones she had fought to lock away. She had tried to forget, to push it all deep inside, but Brenner's words dug at those buried memories, forcing her to confront the truth she had long hidden from.

She glanced at Eleven, her heart thudding in her chest. The same fear echoed in Eleven's eyes, their silent understanding passing between them like a shared burden. Neither of them wanted this, but they were trapped in Brenner's web, with no way out.

"Follow me," Brenner said, his voice a quiet command as he gestured for them to stand. Scarlett hesitated, her legs feeling like lead as she pushed herself up. She exchanged one last look with Eleven before following Brenner out of the room, their footsteps echoing in the narrow, sterile hallway.

They walked in silence, the sound of Brenner's footsteps in front of them the only noise breaking the tension. Scarlett's stomach churned with anxiety, the walls seeming to close in around them as they moved deeper into the lab. It felt like walking into the heart of a beast, each step drawing them closer to something dark and dangerous.

They stopped in front of a large metal door, its surface gleaming under the harsh lights. Brenner punched in a code, and with a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a room filled with shelves upon shelves of videotapes. Scarlett's eyes widened as she stepped inside, her gaze scanning the endless rows. Each tape was meticulously labeled with dates and numbers, cataloging years of experiments, of trauma.

"Everything that took place in my lab was captured on videotape," Brenner said, his voice echoing in the quiet room. Scarlett's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped further inside, the walls of tapes towering over her like silent witnesses to her past. "Every success and every failure."

Brenner's words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. Scarlett could feel the weight of those tapes pressing down on her, each one a piece of her history, a piece of the pain she had endured here.

"It's important for you to not just see your past, but to fully re-experience it," Brenner continued, pulling a tape from the shelf and sliding it into the player. "In doing so, I believe we can repair your broken signals. As we saw tonight, that process has already begun."

The old television flickered to life, its screen casting a dim glow across the room. Scarlett's breath caught in her throat as the image came into focus. It was her, younger, barely more than a child. She was standing across from a boy, Henry, with a sinister smile on his face. The date on the screen read September 5th, 1979.

Scarlett felt her stomach twist at the sight. Henry's voice echoed through the room, cold and manipulative. "I'm your cousin," he had said in the footage, his smile never reaching his eyes.

"If this all happened," Eleven finally spoke, her voice fragile, "why can't we remember?"

Scarlett looked over at her, the same question burning in her own mind. Why couldn't she remember these moments? Why did her mind refuse to let her access those parts of herself?

"Because, Eleven," Brenner answered, his voice soft but unwavering, "you don't want to. And for you, Seven," he said, turning his gaze to Scarlett, "you were injured. Our brains have a defense mechanism in place to protect us from bad memories. From trauma."

Scarlett swallowed hard, her throat tight. She had known that-deep down, she had always known that her mind had been protecting her, but hearing it laid out so plainly felt like a wound being ripped open.

"You buried these memories long ago," Brenner added, stepping back as if giving them space to absorb his words.

Eleven's voice cracked as she spoke again, tears welling in her eyes. "Papa... Scar... When I was in there, I saw something. There was blood. So much blood."

Scarlett's breath hitched, her own pulse quickening. "I did too," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The memory of blood, of violence, was like a shadow lurking in the corners of her mind, just out of reach.

Brenner's expression softened, but his eyes remained sharp. "Girls, that was another memory-an older, more powerful one, invading from your subconscious. You both have demons in your past. That's why we must proceed carefully. One step at a time. One memory at a time."

His voice was measured, as though he were leading them through a delicate process, but Scarlett could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her. "If we go too fast," Brenner warned, his gaze flickering between them, "I'm afraid you could become lost in the darkness. And if you are lost... so are we all."

Scarlett swallowed the lump in her throat. The ominous warning hung in the air, thick and heavy. She didn't want to get lost in the darkness. She didn't want to face the demons lurking in her past-but she had no choice now.

Brenner motioned for them to follow once more, but this time, they were separated. Scarlett hesitated, her eyes flicking to Eleven as the distance grew between them. The sense of isolation was immediate and overwhelming, the silent understanding they had shared moments ago slipping away.

Scarlett was guided down a different hall, the sterile, clinical atmosphere tightening around her. A technician fitted a cap onto her head, the cold metal prongs pressing uncomfortably against her scalp. She winced but didn't move as they led her to the sensory deprivation tank. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter with each step, dread coiling inside her like a living thing.

She climbed the ladder to the tank, the metal rungs cold against her hands. Scarlett hesitated at the top, glancing at the dark water below. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that once she stepped in, there would be no turning back.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett stepped into the tank. The water was lukewarm, surrounding her as she settled into it. The glass lid of the tank slid closed above her, sealing her in. She was alone now, floating in the quiet darkness, her body weightless in the water.

Above her, the dim glow of the television screens flickered on. Old footage from the lab played, images of the sterile hallways, the white-gowned children, and the dark, haunting figure of Henry. Scarlett's breath hitched as the memories began to stir, her vision blurring as the water seemed to pull her deeper, into the recesses of her mind.

And then the memories hit her like a tidal wave.

The lab. The experiments. The endless tests.

Harvey stumbled out of the van, his legs numb after the long ride. He stretched awkwardly, rubbing his backside with a groan. "My ass is numb," he muttered, his face scrunched up in discomfort. Will climbed out after him, chuckling under his breath.

"You're not the only one," Will said, rubbing his own back. Mike hopped down next, rolling his eyes as he overheard Argyle, who was still inside the van, letting out an exaggerated grunt.

"I can't feel my butt!" Argyle whined, dramatically rubbing his behind.

Harvey snickered and repeated in a lower voice, "Can't feel my butt." Then he looked at Mike and Will. "Can you guys feel your butts?"

Will gave him a crooked smile, still rubbing his lower back. "Barely," he said, while Mike just shook his head in mock exasperation.

"I can feel mine," Mike stated matter-of-factly, as if it was the most normal conversation in the world.

Jonathan, who had been unloading a few things from the van, turned to the group with a firm tone. "Okay, everyone needs to be on their best behavior, got it?"

His eyes shifted pointedly toward Argyle, who raised his hands in defense.

"Why are you looking at me when you say that?" Argyle asked, pretending to be offended.

Jonathan sighed. "I didn't," he replied, rolling his eyes as if this were a conversation they'd had a thousand times before. Harvey walked up to the house, her arms folded across her chest, already tired of the back-and-forth.

"They're really religious," Jonathan explained as they approached the door.

Argyle shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "Yeah, and I'm super spiritual, dudette."

Harvey let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I think they're spiritual too, just... in a different way," he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Mike stepped up to the door and knocked, the sound barely having time to echo before it swung open. The door creaked as a small boy appeared, his face half-hidden under a handmade Native American headdress. His expression was intense, scrutinizing the group like they were intruders.

Before anyone could react, Harvey, startled by the sudden appearance of the child, let out a sharp squeal. In his panic, he grabbed a rubber arrow from a nearby toy set and hurled it at the kid's head. The arrow smacked him right between the eyes with a soft thud. The boy blinked in shock, and so did Harvey, who groaned, realizing what he'd just done.

"Ow!" Harvey rubbed his own head out of sheer embarrassment, as if she'd been the one hit. "What the heck, kid?" he grumbled, yanking the rubber arrow off her forehead while everyone else looked at her in bewilderment.

As they entered the house, Harvey drifted ahead of the group, wandering upstairs in search of Suzie's room. He found himself standing in a quaint, nerdy-looking space filled with eclectic knickknacks and books. Dustin's cap lay casually on the bed, a familiar sight that confirmed this was, in fact, Suzie's room. Harvey sat on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers nervously on her lap, waiting for the others to catch up.

Moments later, Jonathan, Mike, Will, and Argyle barged into the room, looking frazzled.

"Hey guys-" Harvey began, but Jonathan cut her off, clearly agitated.

"Well, great, she's not here," Jonathan huffed, pacing the room in frustration.

Then, they heard it-a soft creaking sound coming from the window. All eyes turned toward the slightly open window. Mike and Harvey rushed over, leaning out to see Suzie perched on the roof, fiddling with some kind of contraption.

"Suzie!" they both shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the air.

Startled, Suzie turned her head, her brows furrowing as she saw the group leaning out of her window. Her gaze darted from one person to the next, her confusion evident.

"Yeah?" she called back, her tone cautious and guarded. Suzie's eyes narrowed as she assessed the strangers in her room. Her hands still clutched whatever invention she had been working on, but now her attention was fully on them. "Who the heck are you?" she asked, suspicion evident in her voice. "And why are you in my room?"

Mike, realizing how weird the situation must look, stepped back, raising his hands in apology. "Sorry, that's... that's fair," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Harvey, however, quickly shook her head, cutting through the tension. "No, listen! We're Dustin's friends," she explained, her voice urgent. "We need your help!"

Mike nodded. "It's really important."

Suzie blinked at them, her face softening slightly but still cautious. "Help with what?" she asked, clearly trying to wrap her head around what was happening, her confusion only deepening as she looked between them.

Scarlett's eyes fluttered open, her body feeling weightless as she floated in the water. But instead of the cold, sterile confines of the tank, she found herself standing in the middle of her void-a vast, empty expanse of endless black, broken only by the faint echo of distant memories that flickered like dying stars. The cold silence of the place wrapped around her, a sharp contrast to the simulation of the lab she had expected.

Her breath hitched, her heart racing. She'd been here before-this was her mind's deepest sanctuary. A place where truths often surfaced, raw and undeniable. She spun around, searching for something, anything familiar.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure appeared. Scarlett blinked, her throat tightening as the form of an elderly woman took shape before her. The familiar face brought a rush of emotions-comfort, sadness, and confusion.

"Grandma?" Scarlett whispered, her voice trembling as her gaze locked onto the soft, warm features of her grandmother, Elaine.

Elaine's expression was gentle but resolute. She reached out a hand, though the distance between them remained. "Michelle," she began, calling Scarlett by her birth name, "it's time for you to know the truth."

Scarlett froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. Elaine's tone was grave, as if she carried a burden too heavy to hold any longer. Without saying another word, Elaine held out her hand, and images began to form in the void-pictures floating in the air like memories pulled from time itself.

The first image was of a hospital room-small, sterile, with bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Scarlett recognized it immediately, though she had never consciously thought of it before: the day she was born. The room was chaotic, doctors rushing around, and then, suddenly, everything went dark, a power surge knocking out the electricity.

Elaine's voice cut through Scarlett's daze. "When I died, I became a ghost. I watched over you, Michelle. The day you were born, I was there in the hospital, unseen, as a shadow lingering between worlds. And then... something happened."

Scarlett's eyes widened as the image shifted. Lightning struck outside the hospital, surging through the building. In the chaos, she saw Elaine as a spectral figure, her ghostly form drawn to the flash of electricity.

"I was transformed," Elaine explained, her voice soft but steady. "Turned into lightning. That power flowed through me, and I became part of you. The electricity... it's me, Michelle. I am the source of your abilities."

Scarlett stared at the image, her mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what she was hearing. Her grandmother-Elaine, the woman she loved-was the very force that surged through her veins every time her powers activated.

"I don't-" Scarlett began, her voice hoarse, but Elaine wasn't finished.

"Michelle," Elaine said gently, her eyes softening with an emotion Scarlett couldn't quite place. "There's one more thing you need to know."

Scarlett's heart lurched in her chest. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. But Elaine continued, her voice steady.

"Carrie," Elaine said, her tone shifting as she spoke Scarlett's adoptive mother's name. "She is not who you think she is. She's not just your adoptive mother... she's Cynthia Fletcher."

Scarlett's mind raced. "What do you mean?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "You showed me my biological mom was dead. You showed me her death."

"I did," Elaine nodded. "But that's only part of the truth. Carrie is Cynthia Fletcher... your biological mother."

Scarlett's world spun as another memory flickered to life in front of her-only this time, it was a memory she had seen before, though distorted. She watched the haunting scene of her biological mother being shot by a security guard at Hawkins Lab. The memory had always ended there, with her mother's death. But now, Elaine extended the memory beyond that point.

Scarlett's breath caught in her throat as she watched a woman-her biological mother-dragged into a van. A mysterious figure worked frantically to bring her back to life. The image grew clearer, and Scarlett's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the face of the woman who had been blurred before.

Carrie.

Her adoptive mother.

Scarlett gasped, tears welling in her eyes as realization struck her like a hammer to the chest. "That's... that's Carrie," she whispered, disbelief thick in her voice. "But why-why didn't I realize?"

"You didn't see it before because you weren't ready," Elaine explained softly. "Your mind blurred the memory to protect you. Carrie was forced to change her name, to hide away.