[CT] 13.2 - First Impressions
The funny thing about my first impression was that I was such a little girl that it seems silly to even mention it, but it was a pure and simple curiosity of sorts. Adam had been under control of the Hartsdale facility from the day I was born. Once I reached a certain age I just lived in the facility. I grew up in the halls of the building, memorizing the pale green and white walls, and the antiseptic smell of the place. He was part of my environment, really the most constant thing in my life. He was always there. Always the same. Always angry, or hurting or just... alone.
I know once my abilities got to a certain point they brought me to him. I'm sure that what I did to him caused more than just physical pain, because he could heal from that. But I was probably more of a physical representation of just how wrong his vision had gone. I wasn't to blame for what I could do... but I had my own choices taken away from me.
The first time I saw him though, saw him not from behind the fear of not wanting to fail my father, but saw him from my own perspective I saw hope. It sounds foolish I'm sure, and perhaps a bit cliché of me to say that the man that was locked up for all of my life and then some had hope still left in him, but that's what I saw. Maybe it was my own hope for something more than what I had reflected back at me, but all I knew was that I wanted whatever he had that made him seem like whatever they did to him didn't affect him. That it didn't matter how they locked him up, or treated him like less of a person.
I needed that.
I suppose in a way it was how I slowly began to believe that I needed him as well. I do though, still to this day need him. He's the hope for a new future, one that will be everything he promised me it would be.
First impressions can be taken away, they can be replaced and removed and redeemed a hundred times over. But the ones that last... those are the important ones.
I know once my abilities got to a certain point they brought me to him. I'm sure that what I did to him caused more than just physical pain, because he could heal from that. But I was probably more of a physical representation of just how wrong his vision had gone. I wasn't to blame for what I could do... but I had my own choices taken away from me.
The first time I saw him though, saw him not from behind the fear of not wanting to fail my father, but saw him from my own perspective I saw hope. It sounds foolish I'm sure, and perhaps a bit cliché of me to say that the man that was locked up for all of my life and then some had hope still left in him, but that's what I saw. Maybe it was my own hope for something more than what I had reflected back at me, but all I knew was that I wanted whatever he had that made him seem like whatever they did to him didn't affect him. That it didn't matter how they locked him up, or treated him like less of a person.
I needed that.
I suppose in a way it was how I slowly began to believe that I needed him as well. I do though, still to this day need him. He's the hope for a new future, one that will be everything he promised me it would be.
First impressions can be taken away, they can be replaced and removed and redeemed a hundred times over. But the ones that last... those are the important ones.