The Death That Follows

Pregnant

TW: Mentions of Abuse

Quackity

I held Karl up, his arms shaking under my grasp, but I couldn't look at him. I couldn't see the horror and disgust on his face when he saw the marks. The branding. I couldn't bear it.

"Quackity." His voice was quacking, so full of emotion that I wanted to run away. This is why people say I can't be serious. Because the moment I stop becoming the 'fun mexican guy' I don't want anyone to see the broken husk of a human being I become.

"It's okay, it's okay. Let's get you back to bed." I said as lightly as I could, trying my best to prop Karl up against me.

"Quackity, wait." He said, and I jumped when he put his hand over my heart, memories of someone doing the exact same thing flooding my mind. "Is this real?"

For the first time in a while, I looked Karl in the eyes. They were bloodshot and mad looking, but filled with compassion. Something I never thought I would find. I thought about my answer for a moment, weighing my options. I could say no. I could say no, and make him think this never happened.

If I did that, I wouldn't have to explain. I could keep my secret.

But, for some reason, part of me wanted him to understand. No one ever knew what had happened to me. Not George, not Tom, no one.

So I held my breath, screwed up my eyes, and told him the truth.

"Yes." I said, and I could hear him gasp. I opened my eye just a crack, and saw tears running down my face. Not the disgust I was expecting.

"What happened?" He asked, and I sighed, helping him get into a comfortable position against the wall.

"I haven't been exactly honest." I said sheepishly, but he didn't answer, looking at me with a confused expression.

"Schlatt did. . . this to you?" He asked slowly, and I swallowed, nodding.

"Yeah." I answered.

"How? When?" Karl asked, eyes raking over my chest.

"Before the wars. Back when Schlatt was on the sidelines. He wanted power, but didn't have the means to get it. So he started talking to me. At first, I thought he was an alright guy. We became friends, though I never completely trusted him. Then. . . he kidnapped me." I shuddered at the memory.

"No. But, you had to have been so little. The wars were years ago!" He almost shouted, disgusted.

"No, no, no, no, lo siento. I should have begun with that. I, uh, don't age as quickly as most people." I said, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole, and he must have sensed this, because he just nodded, prompting me to go on.

"He abused me for years, but I couldn't tell anyone. He promised to hurt everyone I loved if I did. As L'Manburg and Manburg progressed, he started getting drunker, and more explosive. It was right around that time that we. . . had a baby." I said, the words firing from my mouth against my will. Karl just looked at me for a moment, stunned, before slowly raising his hand into the air.

"May I ask a question?" He asked meekly, and I nodded, my hair flopping in front of my eyes.

"How did you. . .?" He trailed off, face flaming.

"That's not important. If you must know, it was an egg." I said, and he looked so adorably confused, it made my heart hurt.

"But one day, after the baby was born, something hit me. I couldn't stay, and I no longer cared if he killed me. My son deserves better. So, finally, I ran away." I trailed off, unsure how Karl would feel about this next part.