As penelope escapes the horrors of her captivity, the vast blue sky above is both a symbol of her freedom and a cruel reminder of the trials awaiting her. In a world ravaged by monstrous titans, her greatest battle isn't just with them-it's within h...
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I want to talk about everything with at least one person as I talk about things with myself Fyodor Dostoyevsky ☆ Shiganshina District, Year 841
I could count all my fears on the fingers of one hand.
Filth. When Mister kept me locked away, personal hygiene was a distant luxury. Once a year-on my birthday-I was given a cold bucket of water, just enough to wash away the grime. Now that I've tasted freedom, cleanliness has become an obsession. Every trace of dirt on my skin, every speck around me feels like a threat. Filth won't kill me, I know that, but the discomfort gnaws at me, like a weight I can't shake, suffocating until I feel like I'll break apart.
Sickness. When food came, it was sparse-every other day, if I was lucky. And the taste, the smell, it was so revolting that most of it came back up. Now, even the idea of illness makes me feel small again, like I'm back in that cold, cruel place, too weak to fight, too weak to survive.
Betrayal. I never fully trusted Mister, but there were fleeting moments when he was kind. He'd do things just to see me smile, to kindle some fragile hope in my eyes. But it was never real-he'd always return to cruelty, just to watch that hope crumble. Still, despite that, I want to trust people. If Mike can be good, maybe not everyone is bad.
Lightning. A fear I never knew I had, until recently. On my third day in the hospital, it rained, and for a moment, I felt peace. But then the sky cracked open with lightning, and I found myself unraveling, crying as though the world itself was ending. Mike was there, though, grounding me in his quiet way, reminding me I wasn't alone.
And now, I stood before my newest fear: the door to the Yeager house.
"Come on, dear. Carla even cleaned the room just for you. And Eren-he hasn't stopped talking about finally having a friend," Grisha said softly, his hand resting gently on my head as he gave me an encouraging pat. There was something comforting in his touch, but still, my chest felt tight.
He was standing behind me now, insisting that I be the one to open the door. He said it was important, that I needed to take the first step into my new life. But honestly, I was terrified.
I had never lived with other people before. I didn't know what it meant to be part of a family. Even the concept felt foreign, like something that belonged to another world, not mine. What was I supposed to do when I walked in? What kind of face should I make? Would they notice if I fumbled, if I didn't know how to act?
My fingers hovered over the door handle, trembling slightly. The weight of it all was overwhelming. If Mike were here, it would've been different. Easier, maybe. He's a scout. He's seen real horrors-things far worse than anything I could imagine-and yet he walks through life with steady hands and clear eyes. He could've grounded me in this moment, reminded me that everything was going to be okay. That this door wasn't something to fear.
