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The magic 8-balls were a popular toy among the children at Hawkins Lab (her brother 010 was obsessed with them), but Eleven never went near them. She hadn’t been able to play with them in years without wanting to cry or hurl the ball across the room in anguish. It was a lot like the tightness that built in her chest when she played with the pegboard and the chip clink clink clinked down into the 8 slot. Or the way she stopped breathing for a second with she was drawing next to 004 one day and saw a bright pink butterfly drawn on the girl’s paper. The way she always avoided looking at the doorway marked 008, the wave of relief that washed over her when Papa finally took down the label (and the instantaneous guilt that welled in her stomach).
Tonight she sat in front of the pegboard, her favorite activity in the Rainbow Room despite how frustrated it always made her feel when she couldn’t guide the chip the way she wanted. The silence that lingered throughout the playroom was odd; she’d never done well enough in the group lessons to be rewarded extra private playtime, but today she’d flung 002 out of his chalk circle as memories of her mother flooded her mind, focusing on how angry and sad they made her like Henry had said. She’d been so surprised that it’d worked; Papa always insisted that harnessing their powers through their emotions was useless, that it wouldn’t work, and yet… it had worked. Eight-year-old Eleven had overpowered the strongest of all her siblings, and it was all thanks to the advice Papa didn’t want her to hear.
She focused now on the chip making its way down the pegboard. Three, she repeated over and over in her mind. Three three three! She closed her eyes, concentrating hard. The chip hit the bottom of the board, the sound echoing through the room, and she opened her eyes, a hopeful smile on her face. But the chip was in slot 1 instead.
She exhaled out an aggravated huff and snatched the chip from its slot. The red number 1 stared back at her.
“One? Papa said he doesn’t—“ “Exist, I know.”
“Do you remember the day a strange woman came to see you? This would have been when Eight was still with us.”
Her eyes darted over towards another slot. Maybe she could try Henry’s advice. Think about something that made her angry, that made her sad. She inhaled deeply, standing to drop the chip into the top of the pegboard, and concentrated on a number in her mind: Eight .
Instantly she was hit with memories she always tried desperately to push away; her sister and her playing together in the Rainbow Room, the drawing Eight made for her that she hung over her bed until Papa advised her to take it down, the sound of her sister giggling the time she and Eleven had convinced Henry into sneaking them extra cookies from the cafeteria. Papa leading her down the hallway of the lab, tugging on her arm as she slowed down, staring back at Eight who was being led away by another doctor. Papa’s voice telling her not to bother her sister, not to speak to Eight, that Eight is a danger to the other kids. Seeing her less and less, only through shared glances in the hallways when she was lucky enough to pass by her. And then Papa telling her and her siblings the news that Eight had ran away. When she’d asked him about it—remembering her sister’s promises that they would always be together—and the way he’d told her that Eight had left them.
Blood dripped from her nose, and she opened her eyes just as the chip dropped into the 8 slot.
It worked! Eleven couldn’t decide if she felt proud of herself for finally doing it, or if she was just more upset now by the haunting memories.
But then another thought came to mind, something else Henry had told her earlier that day:
“Can I tell you a secret? Sometimes… Papa doesn’t tell the truth.”
Papa didn’t tell the truth about using her emotions to improve her abilities, and he didn’t tell the truth about her mother dying when Eleven was born… maybe he hadn’t told the truth about Eight either.
But what if he had? What if Eight really did abandon her, leave her behind like their friendship was nothing? Eleven had felt like that for so long, had felt so lonely and lost without her big sister. None of the other kids understood her like Eight did; they all looked down on her, viewed her as weak and pathetic. Eight never looked at her like they did, though. She loved Eleven; she had to have loved her, just as Eleven still loved her sister despite everything.
Maybe… maybe she wasn’t dangerous. It had never made sense to Eleven anyway; Eight never tried to hurt her with her powers. She would show her visions of baby animals and butterflies, things she’d only seen in picture books, things Eight had whispered about having seen in the outside world. She never showed Eleven anything scary, only the other kids when they tried to pick on her. And she never hurt them, not like the bigger kids did when Papa had them use their powers against one another, like today with 002.
An optimistic warmth filled her chest; if Papa was lying, then maybe Eight had wanted to stay with Eleven, or even run away with her. But Papa kept them apart, didn’t let them see each other. And maybe Eight had felt so lonely, just like Eleven did now. Afraid and isolated, and going away was her only chance at finding happiness. She knew Eight always got punished way more than Eleven did; surely she was tired of it, of Papa’s harsh rules. He claimed they were for their own good, their safety, but Eight had always been pessimistic about that.
Maybe Eight felt like she had no other choice.
Maybe Eight was still out there, still thinking about her little sister.
It still stung, the thought of never seeing her sister again, of having to spend all her time at the lab all alone and scared. But for the first time in a long time, Eleven felt… hopeful, perhaps. At least now there was a chance, even a small one, that Eight still loved her.
Eleven wiped the blood from beneath her nose, holding onto the idea with a sense of joy she hadn’t felt in so long.