Chapter Text
"Don't you dare fuck this up for me." Michael glared, his eyebrows pulled together in his typical scowl. His head seemed to pulse with angry red spikes of colour, that hurt her eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could focus in on the energy and see his emotions, thoughts, fears.
She'd tried it once though. After she was hit with the waves of loathing, anger, and images of little bags of white powder, she never tried again.
His hand gripped her jaw tightly. His angry brown eyes glared into hers. "You got that freak?" She nodded as well as she could with his iron clad grip on her jaw. His mouth tightened into a sneer. "Good. Now tell me if this guy is safe." He released her before leaving the room. She heard the muffled sound of talking through the walls and strained to hear what was being said. She could only get murmurs though.
They had done this so many times that it was almost routine now. Michael gave her the same stern talk before bringing in a too-thin man that smelt funny. She never said anything though, just did what she was told to do. Michael pulled her into his lap with a grin that screamed fake and sent a burst of energy coloured a sickly yellow. He'd smile and say "She's my baby girl, can't stand to be away from me." He'd laugh, she'd smile politely and pretend to be playing whilst Michael spoke to the man. If what the man said was true, she'd smile at Michael. If not, she'd stop playing and leave the room. Then she'd cover her ears and ignore the horrible sounds coming through the walls.
They'd been doing this since she was old enough to tell Michael about the colours she could see, and how sometimes she could see... More. That was the first time he'd hit her. After that she stopped talking about the colours. She was told to ignore them, that they were only for freaks. So she did. She only saw the colours when Michael told her to.
So when Michael lead the tall man into the room, she darted over to his side and clambered into his lap. He laughed falsely and pulled her onto his knees and holding onto her hand. The man watched them carefully, wearing an equally fake smile. What was funny, was his colours. They flared out in deep purple spikes, moving in and out in short, panicked movements. She had only gotten the hang of telling what the colours meant recently, and practised on Michael. When he allowed it, that is.
Purple meant desperation, or panic.
She stared at him in curiosity, thinking hard about what could be making him react this way. On closer inspection, she realised that he was different from the usual men too. His nails were clean, and weren't dyed yellow. Even his teeth were white. His skin shone with health, compared to the sallow con-caved cheeks that she was used to. He was entirely... Other.
She focused in on the flaring purple spikes and concentrated.
Thiswasn'tsupposedtohappenlikethis,she'snotsupposedtobehere,whatthefuckamIsupposedtodo
The thought was accompanied by flashing images of black vests, guns and bright yellow jackets.
Her concentration dropped when he addressed a question to her.
"And what's your name, cutie?" He smiled a her, a genuine one this time, his colours flashing a rich green, but they were still tinged with purple.
Michael answered for her. "This is Olympia, just turned five." She turned five about six months ago. He had gifted her with a bruise that had lasted weeks.
"Ain't you a pretty little thing." She sent a small smile but quickly zoned out when the two men began talking about different things. Michael nudged her side with his thumb in a not so subtle gesture to begin. Her eyes screwed up in concentration. She found his brain caught halfway into a thought.
Icouldgetherout, awayfromhim, theforcewouldagree, adoptionhasgottobebetterthanthis.
The force?
She dimly remembered Michael warning her to say away from the men in yellow jackets with walkie talkies attached to their shoulders. He had called them something. What did he call them?
The police force.
The police force were bad, wrong. Olympia shouldn't go near them.
But... This man was police force. And he wanted to get her out. Away from Michael.
She was stuck. If she left the room, Michael would reward her by leaving her alone for the day, but then she'd never get a chance to get away from him. But... What if she lied to Michael, and he found out? Olympia still remembered the horrible feeling of bone sticking through skin.
Both of the men leaked the sickly yellow colour of a lie through the room, and Olympia followed the swirls of colours with her eyes. Michael dug his thumb into her side again and she struggled not to wince when his nail broke skin.
She looked up to him and smiled.
*****
It finished quickly after that. Michael and the man exchanged a handshake and large briefcases, he quickly instructed her to walk the man out. Olympia knew that he would probably getting his needles out now. She still didn't understand why he kept hurting himself with the needles, they went into his skin and made his colours go weird. She never asked questions though.
She lead the man to the front door and quickly tugged on the bottom of his shirt as he left.
He turned around with his mouth opened wide to say something, she hurriedly hushed him. He wore a confused expression, but did as she asked. He squatted down to make eye contact.
"He'll fall asleep by the time it's dark." He raised his eyebrows and she quickly carried on talking in hushed whispers. "But don't come in if there's a big yellow car outside, that means the man with the gun will be here." Olympia didn't like the man who brought the gun. He sent her long stares that made her skin crawl.
"What-"
"Sh." She cut him off. "Don't tell him that I told you. Just tell the rest of the force."
His eyes widened. "What do you mean the force?" He whispered back, after he got his bearings.
"The men in yellow jackets with the walkie talkies. The police force." She said impatiently, frantically looking behind her to make sure Michael hadn't crept up on her. "You work for them right?"
"How do you-?" He said, his jaw falling open. She tapped the centre of his forehead.
"I saw it." Then the door was closing and Michael had his arm around her wrist.
He pulled her around to face him. "What were you two talking about?" He asked, angry red colours flying around him in a vicious tornado that was a complete opposite to the smile that he wore.
Olympia didn't hesitate in answering. "He asked me about my birthday."
"Oh yeah?" His smile was bitter and cold. It made her sick to see it adorn his face. "And what did he ask you?"
"About my birthday cake. I said it was chocolate and had candles." She said, back ramrod straight as she lied. Seeing how Michael's body language and face never matched his colours, she had gotten fantastic at imitating the mannerisms and expressions when she was lying.
"Really." He crossed his arms and tapped his chin with is finger. "For some reason, I don't believe you." Then his hand came out of nowhere and it sent her crashing into the wall. She hit it hard, and slid down it to rest on the ground. She saw a flash of colour in the corner of her eyes as his boot landed hard against her stomach.
"What were you talking about?" He spat at her,saliva spraying across her face. She curled in on herself and wheezed, struggling to breathe.
"My birthday." She said weakly, holding her stomach. His boot landed again, this time on her chest.
"You wanna lie to me again?" He shouted. She shook her head, and curled in on herself.
"Not... Lying." She gasped.
He raised his boot one more time and she saw a flash of pulsing, angry, bloody red and then nothing.
Darkness.
*****
The room they put her in was nice. It had a bed with nice, clean sheets and her own set of drawers. They weren't filled with much, but her two best dresses and an old teddy bear that she had found abandoned on a playground one day. The woman with the big glasses and straight hair had promised that one day the drawers would be full.
Michael wasn't around any more. She didn't know where he was, but when the police force had taken her here, Olympia had focused on their colours. The image of little white bags ripped open and Michael's bruised and bloody face was enough. She didn't ask questions.
The girl they put her in a room in was mean. She was older and had straight blonde hair, blue eyes and colours that screamed dishonesty. As soon as the nice lady had left the room the girl had turned to her with a smirk.
"Listen freak, stay on your side of the room, don't talk to me in front of the others and definitely don't stare at me with those creepy eyes. Got it?" Olympia glanced at the faint vicious red that surrounded the girl. It was similar to Michael's, but not as strong. She nodded weakly, and the girl flipped her hair triumphantly before flouncing out.
It was at this point that Olympia flopped onto the bed and let out a few silent tears. The girl was just like Michael, just less extreme. She knew how this would go, the girl's colours would get darker, and darker red whilst getting more vibrant and strong. The girl would go meaner, and meaner, and take everything that Olympia had to give, plus more.
Just like Michael.
Except, she was able to stop Michael. He was no longer near her, and one of the men in the shining yellow jackets had left her with a promise. "He won't hurt you again." All she did was focus on the colours.
This was when Olympia made a silent promise to herself. She was going to do whatever it took to stop the people with the horrible colours. She wouldn't let anybody hurt her. She did it with Michael, so why, why couldn't she do it with everybody else?
That night she stared at the girl and concentrated, harder then she had ever done before.
The next morning she went straight to the woman with the big glasses and told her about the little bag of leaves beneath the girl's mattress, and yes she was sure that she had seen it.
Th girl was gone the next day.
And that's how it continued for the next ten years. She moved up and down the country, from foster home to foster home. Olympia revealed secret stashes of drugs and alcohol, addictions, thieves and liars. She got kicked out of nearly every foster home she was put in and scared away every potential room mate and adoptive parent.
She figured out the colours and how to hear somebody's thoughts without even trying. She got damn good at it.
She never met somebody like her though.
Until she got moved to a foster home in the middle of nowhere. Her room mate turned around with a smile. She was short, with bountiful curves and a red lipped smile.
"Hi, I'm Darcy. It's nice to meet you."
Her colours shone with a golden glow.
Olympia smiled.