9: Genesis - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Broken
5 and 12 were not the only ones to grow closer over the passing months.

10's fascination with 6 grew into a friendship. During the day, they'd lie around in 6's corner, and 6 would explain---as best as he could---his drawings to her. By night, 10 slept in her room close to 6 (which was what the humans had called a "fireplace." 2 had gotten rid of all contents of wood and burning fuel so 10 could sleep there and not fear). But 10 couldn't believe how cryptic 6 himself was. He spoke in a low voice constantly, and his drawings had sharp edges and mysteries behind them. She noticed how often he drew a circle with symbols around it, and she had meant to ask him about it.

She never got the chance.

Almost eight months after she'd awoke, 10 and 6 were doing the normal routine: 6 would stay up most the night drawing something new, and when he showed it to her, 10 would examine it with honest interest.

On that particular day, 10 asked, "What does this mean?" while pointing to a drawling of what appeared to be a rose.

"It . . . it's a plant," 6 told her. "It means . . . life."

"You're so interesting, 6," 10 said. "All those visions you have . . . it must be compelling and so mysterious."

"Y-you're interesting too, 10 . . . very interesting . . ." 6 said in his normal mutter.

But 10 could understand him perfectly. "Really? Wow, thank you. That's really nice."

6 avoided her thankful gaze. "Me . . . nice? Not . . . crazy?"

"Of course!" 10 frowned. "Who has called you crazy?"

"1 . . . and 8," 6 replied, his voice sounding as if he was in another world. He absently drew on a scrap of paper he'd picked up from the cluttered floor. "They say I'm . . . my visions are no good. Bad 6." He poked the top of his head. "I bring bad luck."

"No, you do not," 10 told his firmly, her specs narrowing. "You're not bad luck, and you're not crazy or no good. 1's wrong. You're interesting and smart and creative. 1 just doesn't know that side of you because you stay here, in this corner."

6 didn't say anything. He just continued to draw.

"10?"

She turned to see 2 standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"A hand, if you will?"

10 nodded and faced 6. "I'll be back in a minute. Okay?"

6 nodded.

10 left the room with 2, feeling frustrated for her artist friend.


6 felt bad about upsetting 10. He wasn't good with people. Not good with speaking. That's why he stayed in his dark corner. Had to stay away from people. 1 said so. 8 show him what happens if he doesn't.

He winced, remembering the last time 1'd yelled at him for his visions.

As 6 continued to draw on his scrap, he was oblivious to the bulging shadow behind him.

"Heh-heh!"

8 startled 6 by heaving him up by the back of the key around his neck. Chuckling stupidly, 8 carried 6 out to the main room, where the light from the windows hit 1's displeased face.

"Your visions, 6," 1 said, crunching a drawing between his fist. "What use are they to us? All it is . . . is ill fortune to us."

6 cowered back from 1's face in his. "I – I can't help what I see . . ."

1's specs narrowed, trying to intimidate the poor stitch-punk. "Then I shall force you to help it."

On cue, 8 slammed 6 into the wall, choking 6 on his own key. Then 8 dropped him. 6 scurried to the corner of the room, holding his head in his hands.

"Must I have 8 demonstrate again, 6?" 1 said.

"S-stop!"

10 ran into the room, her face showing how frightened she was for 6. "D-don't hurt him," she ordered, her voice shaking. She ran in front of 6, glowering bravely up at 1.

"Haw . . . ?" 8 cocked his head.

"Stand aside!" 1 thwacked at 10 with his staff, making her fall back and sit beside 6.

"Bah!" 1 turned and began to walk away. "I grow weary of you both. Come, 8."
8, looking uncharacteristically guilty, followed behind 1 as they left the main room.
10 stood and shook her head, staring at the wooden floorboards. "A-are you alright, 6 . . . ?"

". . . thank you . . ." 6 murmured, shocked that 10 defended him. When was the last time someone had stood up for him like that? He couldn't recall any time that'd happen.

10 sighed, giving a sunny smile to him. "Ah, well. 1 doesn't know what he's talking about. You're not bad luck. You're a gift, 6."

6 blinked, and he began to play with the key around his neck. He wouldn't meet her eyes. There was a strange feeling in his chest. Warmth . . . a fluttering . . . nervousness . . . What could this be?

6 knew what it was. He'd felt it before. In his visions. Humans felt this way. All nervous and scared and unsure . . . just wanting to be with one person who could help . . .

"10 . . ." 6 couldn't stop himself. He had to tell her. Now. To make the fluttering go away. "There's this feeling I have . . . I . . . I . . . I - I think . . . I've fallen in . . . in . . ."

10 frowned at him, uncomprehending. Then it hit her like the bullet from so many months ago. Understanding flashed in her specs, and 6 knew she knew.

It was never spoken in words.

Suddenly, 7 burst into the room, with two stitch-punks 10'd never seen before. They were twins: both wearing blue hoods with yellow stripes and looks of fear. 7 grabbed 10's arm. "We're getting out of here!"

"What - ?" 10 asked.

7 scowled. "We've had enough of 1," she stated.

"But---"

7 tugged 10 along with her as they went for the exit. 10 glanced back at 6, who looked so feeble and torn 10 felt more horrible than ever.

Within a few seconds, 10 was gone.

6 stared at the exit. He felt . . . broken. On the inside. Like all his insides had been mashed up in a wood chipper.

The one person who really accepted him was gone.

6 crawled back to his dark corner. He glanced at the newest picture of his . . . the one 10 never got to see . . . the very one of her, sketched by 6 as a gift.

Holding his key so hard he felt the cold of it seep through his pen-like fingers, 6 whimpered with pain and retreated to the darkest corner of his room. To be alone.

Always.