𝐏𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐀. tlou (discounted)

𝐗𝐗𝐈.

━━━━𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒐𝒏𝒆.

   𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 the world had been a grim place. It was a rarity that anyone smiled, though how could they? They lived on while the earth perished, becoming infested with the undead. Yet, no matter how the world appeared, the babbling toddler fidgeting about in her crib was all it took for James to grin ear-to-ear. His little Maisie desperately reached out to him, the man peering at the bundle of joy with the happiest of grins.

"Well, hello, my beautiful girl!" James brought the small child into his arms, lips peppering loving kisses upon her head of dark brown hair. The baby girl sloppily kissed his cheek, a fistful of her father's red t-shirt clutched in her hand as he held her against his hip.

"We see mama?" Mason wondered, big blue eyes gazing up towards James as the little girl asked the same question she had for the past month. The father felt guilt bubble in his chest, but as he did every morning, he reminded himself that if he left to protect his daughter. Maisie may not understand now, but James could only hope that as the year's pass, his little girl would slowly begin to come to terms with the fact that her mother was sick and that she wasn't the mama who would sing Maisie to sleep as she used to. With a guilt-ridden heart, the father wore a warm smile, once again kissing his daughter's head lovingly.

"Not today, baby girl."

Mason subconsciously stroked the pad of her thumb over the crimson red sweatshirt held between her calloused hands, the flickering memory of a dark-haired man whirling in her head. Shaking the odd feeling from her mind, the teen swiftly pulls the shirt over her head, tucking it snuggly into her unbuttoned jeans. However, as Maisie goes to button up her pants, she finds herself in a struggle to loop the button through. With a furrowed brow, she huffs, hands falling limp at her sides. Mason's eyes flicker to the dressing room mirror, her gaze lingering on her body.

Perhaps she had gained a pound or two, but with the severe scarcity of food the past few weeks, it wouldn't be likely. In a moment of thought, Maisie found the air around her thick, a knot coiling in her stomach. Was it possible? No, it wasn't possible. The chance of her becoming pregnant after a night of weakness with Chris wasn't possible. Mason scoffs at her ignorant thought, her somewhat quivering hands forcing the black jeans to fasten.

As her hand brushes over the door handle, Maisie's mind dwindles. If she were pregnant, her recent bouts of awful nausea would make all the more sense, as well as the sudden waves of fatigue and back pain. No, it was impossible. Her nausea resulted from a lack of food, exhaustion from staying awake due to constant nightmares, and back pain due to traveling.

"You're not pregnant. You're only seventeen; you can't be fucking pregnant." Mason's fatal attempt in reassuring herself does little to nothing, but she whispers the mantra all the same. The teenager snaps herself from the brief moment of panic, pulling open the door, stepping into the abandoned theater. Echoing voices lead her to the stage; Joel and Tommy hunched over a map as they converse.

"Hey." Maisie's hoarse voice attracts the men's attention as she trails down the aisle. Joel reaches into the bag by his feet, in his hands a bottle of ginger ale and Tylenol. "you took the last of the ibuprofen yesterday, went out this mornin' an' found this instead." He hands his daughter the beverage and painkillers, the teen hopping up to sit on the stage. Tommy nudges his brother's side, gently jerking his head towards the girl. Joel turns, his heart clenching at the saddening sight that was his daughter. The bags under Mason's eyes looked dreadful. The grief was a black cloud above her head, wearing her down until it broke her.