This Lullaby ( Kaylor )

( look out your window )

Wattpad hates me and won't let me put the cast thing for this, but just google Claire Redfield from the Resident Evil movies and you have Niki.  This is sort of a filler, but after this chapter, there are four more left, and I promise they'll be worth your while.

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Taylor awoke feeling like she'd been run over by a truck.  She didn't open her eyes, sinking into the uncomfortable make-shift matress she was lying on.  All of her memories rushed back at once, and all she could remember was Karlie, and pushing a gun under her own chin.  She wondered if she was dead.  She wondered if the buzzing silence and the hard, lumpy excuse for a bed she was on were heaven.  She wondered if she'd gone to hell.

She didn't want to open her eyes.  She wanted to go back to sleep.  Because her ears were filled with Karlie's last apology, the last forlorn look on her face, and she knew it would haunt her forever.  How could she be alive if Karlie was dead?  If just didn't work that way.  It just didn't work.

Tears clawed their way past her eyelids, igniting and burning gasoline trails on her cheeks.  She wanted Karlie to be there to hold her hand.  She wanted everything to go back to the way it was yesterday, or last week, or 14 months ago.  A soft sob escaped her mouth, and she knew wherever she was, it couldn't be heaven, because she'd always heard no one cried up there.

A hand touched her arm, and Taylor's eyes shot open.  She bolted up, scrambling for her gun or her knife or something.  But her weapons were missing, and panic filled her.  Her head turned to face whoever who was touching her, and at the sight of an uninfected human, she relaxed some.  But not entirely.

The woman wasn't much older than Taylor, somewhere around 30.  She had russet colored hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and blue eyes filled with a sort of distance Taylor couldn't name but felt like she understood.  When their eyes met, the redhead pushed her lips upward into a calm expression, obviously familiar with how to appear welcoming, "Sorry for startling you.  You were just crying in your sleep."

"I was awake," Taylor muttered, shifting away from the woman and nearly falling off the mattress.  She had learned not to trust strangers, so her muscles stayed tense, tight, ready to run, "Who are you?"

Sensing the thick distrust, the woman slid backwards in her chair, putting some distance between them.  Despite everything, Taylor appreciated it.  A tight-lipped smile, and the older woman answered, "My name is Niki."

Niki. The name sent a sharp spear of familiarity stabbing into Taylor's chest.  She knew that voice had sounded vamiliar.  But she didn't want to think about it.  Because what that meant was worse than dying to her.  Taylor's voice sounded colder than she meant for it to, but she couldn't be bothered to lighten her tone.  She didn't have the energy, "So, Niki, where am I, and how did I get here?"

"Arcadia," Niki replied, a note of pride in her voice, "A safe place.  We have food and shelter.  No infection.  I'm the leader.  My second-in-command, Marcos, he found you in the woods.  Said you had a gun in your hand.  You didn't have a coat, though, so you were probably freezing.  Your hand slipped when you pulled the trigger and you missed, and since you were literally developing hypothermia, you probably fell unconscious shortly after.  That's the best we can guess, at least.  I'm assuming you don't really remember?"

Taylor swallowed thickly.  So she couldn't even successfully put a bullet in her own brain.  What a fucking failure she was.  She nearly started crying again, "I don't remember anything after---no, I don't remember."  She couldn't say Karlie's name.  It felt like blasephemy.  It felt wrong to speak so casually of the...the dead. 

"What's your name?" Niki asked, and Taylor found herself thankful that the woman hadn't asked the obvious question: after what? 

Taylor debated not answering, but she gave in, "Taylor.  Taylor Swift."

Niki gave a sheepish laugh, "I knew I recognized you.  I used to be a big fan, before everything went to shit."

After so much time spent with just Karlie, having anyone recognize her for who she'd once been felt strange.  At one time, she'd been used to constant stops on the street to take pictures, paparazzi everywhere, the entire fucking world wondering about her personal life.  But it had been so long, and somehow, what had once been stressful made her smile, "Yeah.  That's me.  I haven't met a fan in ages."

"I promise I won't throw myself on you and beg for your autograph," Niki replied, and she managed to draw the tiniest of smiles out of Taylor.  But it didn't last long, because Karlie was still gone and Taylor still missed her like all hell.  They'd been so close, and Karlie hadn't made it.

Niki noticed the shift, the way her smile turned into a bruise on her lips.  The woman bit her own lower lip, "I can leave you alone, if you'd like.  Get some more rest?  I'll show you around the camp later."

Taylor nodded gratefully, and slid back down on the mattress, closing her eyes and curling up into a ball.  She listened to Niki's boots scuff on the floor as she walked out of the room.  A door creaked as it closed, and Taylor welcomed the solitutude.  She couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and sobs tore through her, deep and rattling in her chest.  She feared they would break her ribs.  And god, how she longed for Karlie's arms to wrap around her, hold her, kiss her forehead and promise it would all be okay.

But that would never happen again.  And it was all because she'd left Karlie behind.

And her finger had slipped.  Her hand had moved.  And she hadn't even been able to end her own life and put herself wherever Karlie was.  She had ruined her chance, and now what was she supposed to do?  Maybe while Niki was gone she should leave, just wander around until one of the undead found her and tore her apart.

It's all she deserved, after all.

They'd been so fucking close to safety.  One more day and she and Karlie would have been happy, safe, protected.  One more day.  And now only she had made it and it was because she was selfish.  A coward.  Karlie deserved this so much more than she ever did.

She sobbed until her vocal chords frayed, aching in a way they once had only after long concerts.  She sobbed until her lungs felt like dust.  She sobbed until she was exhausted and hollow and felt like crumbling.  She sobbed until she had nothing left to give anymore.

She sobbed until, restlessly, she fell back into the abyss of sleep.