𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 [OLD/ORIGINAL]

Chapter Six - Lost Man

People keep their priorities to themselves. Obsessiveness was a precise style of thinking and expressing oneself. It would be a pain to know that what you saved has been taken away in a flickering light from what was once an escape, running away from the reality of the unknown's creations. A canvas so empty that you can't tell what's missing. Static will infiltrate you until you rot in a sea of white noise. They will lie, they will sin, and they will continue to do so.

She had a faint sense of determination. No matter the pressure. No matter the cause. She held the red bag near her ankle in the brightness of colors cut to black once they turned off the screen before a nerve forced them to break it. Smashing up against the shattered glass on the dull floor. The loud noise somehow scared them. 

If only...they knew better. 

Taffy gathered the mess and piled it in a small compartment next to the dusty drawers, closing them fast to minimize consequences. As they slammed the door, they reflected on how still they sat on the ground, watching every frame in front of them. The silence at the end when they turned around to see no one on the torn-up mattress. Only a blanket and ropes stayed. The emotion was mixed. Partial. 

Anything that swirled changed an ugly tint.

The lights were still turned off, allowing them to see properly. They didn't care where they went as long as they found him. Find him and flee to somewhere else that isn't here. That place was sufficient, far enough away to bear the outcomes of their choices rather than her own.

Their stomach wailed.

Their fingers dangled over the pointy texture.

Footsteps slowed when they were encountered by the cold.

❄️

Time went back to the beginning. The more the flashback sunk in, the tighter the muscles under their short sleeves became. A train line wanted to draw them back to where they had fled. They would never be able to hear his voice again. It will not be the last time. Taffy was certain of it, owing to their mental image of a faceless woman. 

She jumped past the monster traps that hissed beneath the bushes, threatening back with a stick to the eye. Fortunately, because of the initial massacre, not much else had to be navigated. Something about her made a curious advantage under their shoulders. The biggest challenge would be on hold sometime. They crawled to the bottom left of the snow and popped out to meet airy fog, that caused them to flinch and thrash around in an attempt to fight the slow clouds. Violence had been taught by voices. A high-pitched voice ventriloquist danced past their legs, grabbing them like a child. Taffy took a moment to look down, noticing an object she had never seen before. Not at a certain age in the past. 

"Why, hello there!"

Yep, she could be high as hell. 

"You must be a new friend! Come, come! Let's head somewhere safe!" The teddy bear chortled and held her hand close, the furry texture odd to her liking. While they wandered to the road, her barbarity was soon replaced by a sense of relaxation. The door flew open, revealing nothing but a tall guy holding a tray of cookies. Once she looked down, the teddy bear had slipped away. Then she turned to face the young man. That's when she noticed something peculiar about this man. He appeared vaguely familiar, almost too comparable. His hair was soft and doughy, layered on his shoulders, and his skin was heavenly brighter. The main thing was his eyes; this looked exactly like him. She was in mere agony because she assumed she was meeting a clone. Someone she met just earlier now in a different form.