Wisps: Recollection (Ninjago X Reader)

33. Ghosting

You haven't left your apartment since Borg escorted you from Stixx. In a way, it's your own personal cell that you imprisoned yourself in. Several knocks would visit the door and retreat at your tired shouting for them to shut up. It had been like that for a week. You didn't know who it was. Maybe your head was making those sounds for an unusual, distant comfort. The knocks distracted you, along with the chirps of birds for a time. A very short time. Birds went on and on in the morning with their bothersome chittering to grate your ears. But, they're not noisy enough to distract for long. They're deafened by a louder noise from within your mental space, keeping you from falling asleep into that same disturbing slumber. It woke you up. Woke you up in a sweat.

It woke you to another day.

Another day alone. Another week of wishing you sunk to the depths of the sea. You're so tired... but you don't want to sleep with your head still reeling from the same nightmare. To die by reliving painfully vivid details. Cruel in how it lulled you into a lost future with Morro. Heartbeats are so sure and lively. You don't notice his smile is sad until you hear him whisper, "Everything is alright." Ocean waters drowned him and you stayed in your spot, uselessly standing there. You never died with him, closing in on the shore of dust for the waves to rip parts of you that you weakly grasped.

You hold on the pillow tightened, wading through grief for some kind of warmth. Emptiness hit you in puffs of air from pouring your feeble and exhausted weepings into nothing. The damp cloth further irritates your wet eyelids and nose.

'I miss you. So damn much.'

There's a rapped knocking for the second time. Maybe you'll feel better outside instead of wallowing in your room... Wishful thinking. You're sure you won't be distracted enough to pass along even out in the streets or restaurants. You could shout at them, but the crying made your voice weaker than ever. It didn't matter. Why bother with it? They'll dejectedly leave your mind without a sound if you don't answer. You dried your tears on your shirt and tossed on pants from somewhere on the dirty floor. Sloppily, you shoved on your sandals, shuffling out of the bedroom door.

Crunch.

Your gaze cast to the shards at your feet. You missed the way you had no idea who you were, looking at a blank face in the mirror. Now you're not sure what you're looking at with all that's thrown your way. Instead, the shards of glass you broke in a rage reflect your bloodshot whites. Shattered like your reflection in that cave of echoes...

'Did I change Morro's for the worse?'

If only there were a reset button.

You made it to the living room, and it's messier than the glass in the hallway. A layer of dust sat on many things and the drawn, grey curtains made the place gloomy and drab. You stopped at the living room table. Lumps of used candle wax at the bottom of their wicks stuck together in a pile with short sticks of incense. You feel like a stupid child playing with their imagination at this point–

"Open the door, please." Pixel's voice filtered from the other side. You had half the mind to take your hand back from the shutters but the half you didn't answer.

"What do you want?" Coarse and parched is your throat, the words rough the way out. You haven't used it much other than for the cries to strip your throat.

"We–"

"I will handle this, Zane. Let us in."

"...No." You chewed your lip at the sudden croak. Despite yourself, your fingers brushed the doorknob.

"It won't be for long." Yet, you felt yourself wanting anything to distract. Maybe you could crack the door open for a bit. You rubbed the junk around your eyes, smearing it off. "I hope you don't mind this inconvenient arrangement." You peeked through the crack. An understatement, but you don't have much energy to remark on it. Zane stood in the doorway with pity on his features, Pixel's voice coming through his mouth; "Is this fine? Borg is working on a body for me currently."