Crowned

Arc 3, Chapter 91: "No. No, I Don't Fucking Forgive You..."

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Taco's eyes slowly drifted open again. Zero's head rested against snow speckled leaves to her left. She'd likely shifted to her opposite side in her sleep. Taco stood up, shakily standing on her two injured, and blistered legs. She needed to think to herself. Try to process... Everything. A few steps and she'd almost tripped over Microphone's body. She gasped to herself. Staggering back. Hoping the loud uneven crunching of the leaves below wouldn't wake anyone. A few moments of silence, combined with the breeze caused Taco to ease up, and walk into the woods. As if it had never happened in the first place. Her feet dragging behind her as she trudged away from the snow this time.

She clutched her stomach... It ached. She was starving again. Not too desperate, but the pains were kicking in. The waves of hunger had dug their claws into Taco's stomach lining. She tried to ignore it, it would likely pass soon. A slow draw of her hand from her stomach, to cup over her mouth. She thought about the hunger more distantly as she tried to process what had happened last night. She was happy Microphone seemed to open up to her, and better yet, understand her own feelings much better. But, Taco? She couldn't recall a single feeling which was recognizable. Other than the fact Taco felt horribly bad for all the things she'd done. And that Microphone didn't want her to suffer. She'd been going against what Microphone wanted that whole time... Trying to do her right.

She shakily tensed her hand, raising it, then stopping with a shaky hiss of air. Instinctively wanting to rip at her shell, or hit her own head. God, she'd never really noticed that was a form of hurting herself... Not until now. Because it would qualify as intentional suffering wouldn't it? Her hand... Her blistered reddened hand... She looked down at her hand.

Blood. She gasped to herself, shakily grabbing it. Her hand now clasped around her own wrist. Widened eyes as she looked at the crimson soaked skin. The world around her darkened to a dimly lit bloody room... It was all so vivid. Yet... She knew it wasn't real. The forest was still fresh in her mind. She just...relived it, knowing she was small... Weak... Bloody......... A sound. She shot her eyes beside her, and was back in the forest. A pair of feet next to hers who only stared as she hyperventilated.

"What are you doing?" Pickle asked coldly. His eyes narrowed and nearly hateful. He'd not bothered to talk to her since the incident from before. She must have accidentally woken him up when she tried to walk by.

Taco's breath caught in her throat, and she instinctively stepped away from him. A slow flash of hateful and happy gazes mixed together in a slurry of confusion. Her memory was acting up strangely... replaying events that it shouldn't be more vividly than than she'd like. "J-just...Walk...ing..." She said in a slightly shaken voice. It's almost like someone messed with her head.

"Not to go slaughter more, I'd hope." He half joked with a bitter voice. Then looking ahead with a slightly softer expression. "Well? Walk... Im not stopin' you, am I?" He murmured.

Taco cleared her throat, and stepped forward, stopping once more as Pickle followed. "What—?" She was quickly silenced.

"Walk." He said firmly.

Taco obliged, albeit, knowing something was wrong. She furrowed her brows and stepped forwards uncomfortably. Fearing the worse from Pickle. Worse than she would with Trophy, and Knife.

"I'm not here to threaten you. So don't... Be all scared. I think we've all had enough fear this past week." He laughed slightly, shaking his head with an empty smile. Taco hummed in acknowledgment, trying not to look in Pickle's eyes. Which he quickly noticed. "You know, pretending it never happened won't fix it..."

Taco winced, hunching away from Pickle, "Pl—please, Pi..ckle.... I—!"

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me maliciously... That's... That's not really the problem for me. A—at... At least not anymore." He shrugged slightly, itching at the moss on the back of his neck, "I know you tried to contact me—I guess I... Was mad...? And I burned them—...The letters, I mean. Though, I think you know that." He looked down at Taco. Flinching as he saw her head turned her hands shaking.