Ellexias Verisity [D6 - rewrite]

The flowers at her mother's grave tell only one story - the story of the girl who mourns and remembers. Illness always strikes the innocent and the weak, and her mother was only one: innocent. Twelve years of smiles and success descended into a void when death left his skeletal hand print upon her mother's tarnished heart. Beyond her passing there was no salvation, only more curses upon her family, upon her father. His conscience faded and his soul vanished, leaving an a hollow shell of confusion in its wake. The only healthy one left was their bright daughter, Ellexias, a young mind determined to save her father's sanity - or what was left of it.

As streams of sunlight penetrated the dusty haze of their homey abode Ellexias pushed her father's wheelchair to the edge of the front window, where she knew his unfocused pupils would stare into the ever-changing world outside. The memories of his lively gaze peering through the glass pane to watch her play in the front yard were still ripe, and she knew if he was still inside somewhere that he would cherish this as his favorite spot. That way, he could still pretend that he was the guardian of this household. That he could protect his wife and his growing young daughter until he grew frail with age rather than mental illness. She wished she could buy into the illusions she could conjure, but everyday his puzzled eyes would find hers and squint without recognition. Even now, his hands trembled and his head turned slowly toward her, but his eyes appeared glazed. There was not a spark of passion or of love. He was gone.

"W-who..."

A small whisper was all he could muster, and Ellexias shook her head.

"Look outside, dad. The birds are here." She tucked a strand of brown behind her ear and looked through what was her window and his door, hoping his eyes would follow. Two pairs of blue eyes searched for the flutter of feathers, and when she found them her lips curved toward her dimpled cheeks. "I remember when you told me that the birds only sang for me." Her small hands found his, and she patted his dry skin until his trembling subsided. Her face was even paler against the sheet of sunlight warming their home, almost as pale as her father's. Almost as pale as the clouds above their roof. "It's cloudy out, too. You can look at all of the shapes. It might even rain," she said, with hints of enthusiasm. He always seemed more cooperative when it rained, as if the sound of pattering droplets were like microscopic drums trying to wake him from his perpetual trance. It never worked completely, but progress was promise. It was hope, and hope was the last frame of support protecting her from collapse.

She slipped into her freshly-ironed white scrubs that fit loosely around her thin frame. Attached to the breast pocket was her name tag "Lexi" (she would rather the patients at the psych ward know her by a nickname, not her real name). She drew her wavy hair back into a neat bun and kissed her father's forehead before heading out and locking the door behind her. From their doorstep she could see her father's drooped face and apathetic expression, but reacted only with a flash of her teeth as she waved him goodbye and bounced across their front lawn in the direction of her workplace. It was more of an internship than anything, but she was paid enough money to take care of herself and her father. The opportunity had been a wonderful one, one that she had searched years for. Months of persuasion, determination and proving her worth had been necessary to convince the head of the facility to accept her as both a student and a valuable employee. They both knew why she was really there: she wanted to find a cure for her father's condition, and along the way help those who could not fend for themselves due to mental or emotional constraint.

In the public eye she was the ideal assistant. She was organized, clean, passionate, friendly and always eager to learn. She treated her patients as if they were long lost friends, always sending encouraging messages their way even when they could never understand her. She waved at every nurse and treated her fellow employees with respect whether they were of higher ranking or not. They liked to call her the brightest of the bunch, and a fine intellectual of her generation. She had even earned her way to one of the most honored positions as personal assistant to the head of the facility, a man she had deeply admired since the beginning of her internship. She was almost always at his side to perform tests and take care of the patients. There was a personal attachment to her work and to the head of the facility that others found both charming and unsettling, knowing her father's situation.

But it was what happened behind closed doors that was truly unsettling.

Today's subject was a man in his sixties; a decrepit, leather-skinned victim with a dying drug habit and anxiety issues. He was strapped to a table, wrists and ankles binding his bony limbs as Ellexias connected wires and patches to various parts of his body. Her fingers trembled whenever she touched his clammy skin; he reminded her of her father, but he was the very reason she worked for the head of the facility without voicing questions about ethics. When she was finished, she pried her gaze away from him and refused to look into his pleading eyes. She tried to mold a mask of apathy, but there was no mistaking the pity etched into her lovely features. "He's ready, sir."

"Good. Step over here."

For someone who was about to electrocute a man in an unorthodox manner, he was very collected. As if he had been performing these tests for years. She tried to tell herself it was for medicine, and it was - both were trying to find cures for mental illness, whether it be through doses and doses of new and strange drugs, through therapy, or through intense stimulation. . He claimed electrocution could start a person's heart, and he was correct - Ellexias had learned this herself in school - and he hoped to utilize the element to the advantage of the mind. Today's patient would be the third attempt of many more to come. Ellexias had high hopes that notable progress would be made rather than their experiment yet again reducing itself to meaningless torture of an innocent human being.

As she stood safely behind the control panel, observant as always, her boss twisted a few dials before signaling her with a nod. It was a warning to prepare her ears for the screams.

It's for a good cause, yet he's in so much agony.

Maybe we can cure him, if his heart doesn't stop too soon.

I need to do this to heal my father, yet I'm hurting other people's family in the process. Does this make me a hyporcite?

As his screams echoed his body convulsed. They waited for signs of death or signs of change. When the treatment was paused, the man was drenched with sweat and trembling in his restraints and Ellexias wanted nothing more than to cover her eyes and walk away. She constantly told herself that it would be worth all of this when she cured her father. Worth torturing the mentally handicapped? In her heart she knew she wanted to be a good person, not the bad doctor, but her boss could always sense when she was distraught or second guessing his methods. It was the same routine, every time. She always fell for it.

"Think of your father, Ellexias. He's thinking of you, and he will be grateful to you. Everyone will once we find the cure. All good medicine comes from experimentation just like this."

She trusted him. She believed in herself and in his work. She knew one day it would all pay off, and she would wait for eternity for the answers to come.

As the screams commenced yet again, she forced herself to look up at the suffering man.

It's for my father.

Kay allowed me to use a completed bio as a rewrite, and now it's finished ^^