Crestfallen ↬ Carl Grimes (old version)

C H I M E R A

CHAPTER NINETEEN: C H I M E R A 

{Dream World}

❝Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.❞

❝All this place, this home, would do to her would haunt her. It wouldn't comfort her, much less feed her need for sanity or some sort of break from this non-comical lifestyle she had been forced into playing out.❞

➳

SMALL REMNANTS OF SHEER CRYSTALINE GLASS LITTER THE CRACKED TILE FLOORING, bright florescent colors dancing every which way as the late evening sun breaks through the skylight lost in time. Cold ice laced itself throughout every bare surface, Fall now only a distant memory as trees lay sleeping underneath frozen coffins and plants lose themselves to the unforgiving bitter temperatures.

It was easy to tell that time had passed. Not because of the nimble, oh so energetic way the seasons had decided to rush by. Or because of the way everything was different compared to the last time the girl had been here. But because of the way things felt and looked.

With every step she took, Milah couldn't help but let her mind sink deeper and deeper into the trap this place had set for her. Cracks and crunches broke beneath her feet as her eyes scanned every worn detail she had grown to remember, only to forget as she continued to live. This wasn't some old, worn down house that somehow still stood, rebelling against the rules of time. It was her home. Her life started here.

But why was she here now?

After all the places she could've run to, all the places she could've hidden from herself in, she chose....this.

She wasn't right. Whatever part of her that had decided to come here as a safe place, was wrong. All this place, this home, would do to her would haunt her. It wouldn't comfort her, much less feed her need for sanity or some sort of break from this non-comical lifestyle she had been forced into playing out.

But no matter what her brain thought, her heart still craved for that hope. That feeling of natural comfort and safety that everyone needed eventually. The craving....it distorted her reality. Her ears could hear the soft melodic tune of her mother's voice, singing an old hymn that Milah could never understand. Her nose could smell the delectable scent of cooking bacon, snapping and sizzling over the stovetop as her father's whistling bounced around the kitchen walls.

Her heart was toying with her. She knew that perfectly well. Yet she still walked on. Past the destroyed living room..... Through the collapsing dining room..... She craved to see her mother's soft face again.....To reach out for her dad and apologize over and over for what she had just done....Because everything was all her fault.....

"I'm sorry....."

Her hands caress the side of its face as tears blur her vision. It wasn't her. It wasn't her mother. Her eyes were deceiving her. That wasn't her mother's blue eyes glaring up at her through deteriorating eyelids. It wasn't her familiar short blonde hair falling out in chunks at the base of her scalp. It wasn't her mouth that held sharp teeth, snapping at her, trying anything and everything to get one bite out of her fresh skin.....

"Mommy....."

The monster held between her hands shoved against the young girl's grip, a deep growl resonating from deep within its throat as it continued to snap at her hollow face.