ONE EYED BOY [C. Grimes][Rarl]

don't talk

Warnings: Rape Mention, Vomit, Nightmares, Mental Illness

I open my eyes only to be met with the darkness of 3 in the morning. I'm shaking badly and sweat is soaking through my shirt. I don't remember getting up, but I somehow do, staggering out of the living room and into the hall. As my bare feet touch the fuzz of the carpet, I feel bile rise in my throat and I double over as I vomit all over myself and the ugly pattern under my toes. I'm disgusted with myself. I haven't had a reaction this bad in months. It was my first day in Alexandria and I was already fucking up. Once I've emptied my stomach, and then some, I'm quiet for only a moment before the memories of the dream go from unfocused to painfully crystal clear.

His hands on my wrists and his fingers yanking my greasy hair as he uses me. Me, a child, only 13 years old. I was screaming for my father. For Mich. For anyone. But, they must not have cared enough, because no one came to help. My dad was not there this time. He was not there to plunge his knife into the Claimer's gut and rip upward with all he had. I was not able to watch my attacker's intestines spill onto the worn pavement as had the first time. It was just me. It was just him.

Someone says my name loudly and the lights flick on. Someone was screaming hysterically, a normally deep voice gone shrill and broken. It takes me a moment to realize that the brittle shrieks are coming from me, filling the silence of the night. My father grabs my shoulders to halt my noise, but I'm too out of it. With my own sick down my sweatshirt, I kick and punch at him. When he doesn't affect him, I bite and claw my chewed nails, bent of getting away from the person I could hardly recognize.

I'm blinded by the sudden light and my dad pushes me off of him, and gentler hands move me away. Cool night air nips at me and I wail, grasping for Mich's hands.

"Walk, baby, walk." Her words calm me slightly, but I'm still making noise. I know people hear me. I know the things they will whisper in the morning, but at the moment, I do not care.

I walk the sidewalk, screaming and howling my lament. I'm glad the claimer is dead because, in the moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip his skin from his face and limbs from their sockets.