HIS II | Arthur Morgan x Reader

Damaged

Trigger warning: not a happy chapter.

You were alone again.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of your tent you think through your situation for the hundredth time. The exhaustion was finally catching up with you.

You glance up at the mirror in front of you as tears begin to fall and the reflection that blinks back is unrecognizable. Shadows circle your bloodshot eyes and your skin had lost its color leaving you looking grey and gaunt. Days worth of grease coats your hair and you're pretty sure it hasn't seen a brush since you left Willard's Rest, the braid you had tied it into could hold itself in place without a ribbon.

You hear a plate being set on the table, but you don't turn around.

Charles sighs when he spots the untouched food on the pile of old plates, "You have to eat something."

You don't respond, you just keep glaring at yourself hoping to see a different person, one that was happy and home with her children and husband. He settles beside you and slides a hand over your knee.

He watches you in the mirror with a sympathetic face you were growing to hate. "It'll be okay."

The friend who had once treated you like his equal, taking you on hunting trips while the rest of the men teased him for wasting his time with a spoiled rich woman, now looked at you with pity and was treating you like glass.

"Don't." you turn to glare at him, "Don't you dare say this will be okay."

You didn't want his reassurance, you didn't want his sympathy because none of it could fix what had already happened, none of it would stop you feeling...Damaged.

He squeezes your knee. "Arthur will fix this. We'll help him. Whatever it takes."

"But you can't fix this, can you?" you push yourself up and fist the fabric of your dress around your stomach. "You can't fix what's already been done." Charles drops his head, unable to meet your eyes.

You don't mean to take it out on Charles, but he's right there, an easy target for you to drive your anger at. Even if all this shit was miraculously resolved the damage was still done to you, you still had to live with the consequences of Mary's revenge. This couldn't be reversed.

You glance back at Charles; he stares down at his hands as if they somehow hold the answer.

"I'm gonna get some air."

Slipping from the tent with no intended direction but the desire to clear your head you find yourself heading down to the lake where the stars sparkle in the waters surface.

Carefully you step into the lake, keeping to the edge so the water can lap around your ankles. With a groan you realise it does little to ease your anger, your mind keeps conjuring scenarios of how the confrontation could be going and what Arthur was doing right now. The only positive thought you could muster up was knowing that Arthur was with your children.

Tris will be so happy to see her father, you could just imagine the joy and relief on both of their faces. And Alfie, so small, so, vulnerable, so young. He'd barely had a chance to feel the love you and Arthur had for him before you'd been torn away so quickly.

Tears drip into your hands before you even knew you were crying. Grabbing the nearest rock, you can find you launch it into the lake, screaming with all the air in your lungs.

"FUUUUUCK! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" you cry as if the rock was the reason for all your problems, but all you're met with is silence as the lake settles back around the ripples. "Fuck." You whisper to the quiet.