𝐏𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐀. tlou (discounted)

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈.

━━━━𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒘𝒐.

  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐒 of odorous chemicals burn at Maisie's eyes, the teen grimacing as Chris dabs the cloth damp with hydrogen peroxide across the small gash on the back of her scalp. "what's the verdict, doc?" Chris caps the chemical bottle, tossing the folded fabric into the discarded trash bin. "it was a close call, ma'am, but it seems you'll be just fine." The boy assures, resting upon the rickety seat opposite of her. Mason's eyes can't help but linger on the boy, a feeling nonother than guilt blossoming in her chest. "Chris," She starts, but no matter how hard she tried, the words holding a death grip in her throat, refusing to be said.

Or perhaps she was resisting to say them by her own will. The words needed to be spoken about that night in the cabin, yet no matter how hard Maisie tried, she couldn't. However, as the attempted apology remained choked in her throat, Chris wears a warm smile. He knew. "it's not your fault, Moony."

Maisie returns the smile with her own that even she found herself surprised by, for only the reason that she wore a genuine, warm smile for the first time in an entire month. The abandoned dining room was now a bubble of silence, nothing but the distant melodic sound of chirping songbirds greeting the atmosphere. In the moment of peaceful tranquility, Maisie finds herself unable to turn her gaze away from the long-haired teenager across from her, the girl now very aware of the fact their knees were touching. The sudden jolt in her stomach at the contact brought her brows to furrow, Chris's lips breaking from his warming smile and into a smirk. "what?" He inquires, but Mason shrugs, the smile on her lips never once to falter as her eyes remain locked with his. "nothing."

Before the two teens could fall into yet another moment of blissful silence, the revving of a car engine disturbs the once peaceful silence. Finally breaking her gaze, Maisie gently jerks her head towards the garage door closed shut on the other side of the joining kitchen. "they'll be getting us in a minute, probably should get ready." As if on cue, Tommy cracks the door open, waving the two over. "The old man finally got that rusted thing up and runnin', pack up." He plucks his and Joel's backpacks from their place near the old refrigerator, the blonde man soon disappearing back into the garage.

━━━━

The truck's soft jolting movement would most likely disturb most, but Maisie found the gentle bounce soothing in a way. Plus, each jolt was enough to keep her from dozing behind the wheel—two in one. However, no matter how tired she was, not once would she shake awake her father to take his shift in the driver's seat. Not only because Joel needed the rest, but because if Mason were to slump into that seat, she knew she wouldn't last a second before welcoming the abyss of sleep, and with that sleep followed the nightmares. The dreadful night terrors of her.

"Pull over."

Maisie takes a moment to tear her eyes from the road, blue orbs briefly flickering over to Joel as he looks at her expectingly. "'m good." Her father rolls his eyes, ever the more stubborn his daughter was. "just—just talk to me. Please?" Joel, though reluctant to agree, settles for that. The car once again falls into silence as the man rakes his brain for a topic of interest, nothing but the howling wind keeping them company. Suddenly, the man chuckles, Mason quirking a brow. "what?" "Do you remember when I taught you to ride a horse?"

Oh, Mason remembers that day quite fondly. With the constant wait for the approaching sunny weather of spring, Joel had finally taken the impatient little girl along the muddy trails with Iris's reins grasped in hand up to the wide-open field. The same one that had built a home in Maisie's heart, it seemed as if the horrible incident that occurred all those years ago failed to butcher the comfort she held in it. Many of Jackson's kind residents had recently finished off the building of the metal gate guarding the plane of grass, and Joel couldn't think of any other place than the beautiful field to give his daughter her first riding lesson.

"Daddy, she's big." Maisie had held such a look of fear in her eyes, Joel had to keep himself from breaking into a chuckle. "Nothin' to be scared of, baby, I promise. She looks scary, but she's nothin' but a sweetheart." Joel had helped her onto the saddle, letting the little girl grasp his hands as she sat uneasily upon the tall, broad mare. "just like you, right?"

Maisie smiles. "yeah, yeah, I remember." She wondered how long the horses would last on their own out in the wild, how long they would survive on this journey. It was a morbid thought, yes, but Maisie Miller lived in a sad, cruel world.

A shift from the backseat breaks the brief silence, Maisie's eyes shifting abruptly to the rearview mirror. Chris, peaceful in his rest, sleep away against the old car door of the rusted pickup. Chestnut hair tangles in his eyelashes, a hair tie slipped around his wrist that he never used, saying to Mason when she questioned him as to why, "it's not a hair tie, it's a fiddle band. I fiddle with it." The damn fiddle band was practically for decorative use only, never once seen pulling his hair back away from his eyes. Chris would look nice with a man-bun. The thought, sudden and unusual, made Maisie shift in her seat.

"He's a good kid." Joel followed where his daughter's gaze once was. "a dumbass to follow us down here, but if he hadn't," A pause. "baby, you'd be gone." Maisie's eyes don't stray from the road, but her thoughts echo loud around her skull. If Chris hadn't been there to kill the members of the WLF that had dragged her unconscious body out of the theater, eager to be witnesses upon what would be the gruesome death of the woman who killed their former leader, Mason wouldn't be here. She would be sure to attempt to repay him.

As if a haze cleared from her eyes, Maisie curses, boot hitting the break so hard Mason was surprised a hole hadn't burned through the sole. "shit!" The smell of burning rubber piled in through the open windows as the tires screeched to a halt, and then the sound met Mason's ears. The groaning, shrieking noises of the infected before the group brought a chill through her bones.

"Get us outta here, Maisie!" Tommy shouted, awake and panicked from the back seat. However, any chance at backing away into safety fled from their grasp as the horde circled the beaten old truck. "Maisie!" Chris calls to her, slipping his gun from its holster as a shrieking runner pounds on his window. "I'm fucking trying!" Mason snaps, and finally, the truck jerks forward, infected nearly breaking the windshield as the pickup drives through them. The brief moment of relief doesn't last, however. The car just about flips onto its side as something pierces one of the rear tires, the wheel spinning rapidly out of Maisie's grip and then ringing.

It was a sharp, painful shrill vibrating around Mason's skull, warm liquid trickling down her cheek. The entirety of her head was pounding, her busted lip throbbing. The voice calling to her was nothing but warped distant noise as if she was underwater. Still, despite the painful throb running rapidly through her body, Maisie blindly reaches her hand towards the door handle. "get out, get out, we need to--" A whimper as she pushes the creaking door open, "--we need to run." Tumbling out of the driver's seat, a pair of arms catch the teenager before she could clumsily fall to her knees. The gentle hands that lead her into the treeline are unfamiliar. She didn't know this person.

With only short flecks of an oddly familiar red shirt catching Mason's eye as the haze fades painfully slow, she lets the strange man hurry her away from the chasing herd. She can hear running feet breaking sticks and leaves behind them, and in her state of pain, she could only hope those steps belonged to Joel, Tommy, and Chris.