Hiraeth (SallyFace DystopianAU)

Chapter 1

Sal rested his hand on the aging concrete walls of the home he and his father resided in. The pads of his fingertips brushing over the imperfections created from the low droning that sounded below the Earth's crust at dusk and dawn. Luckily, the vibrations weren't enough to bring down a building even if it seemed like it should. His eye's flickered over his knuckles where the skin was dry and cracking. Little beads of blood pooled and threatened to run down the length of his hand. He needed new bandages. Him and his father needed a lot of things, but who didn't? Since everyone was practically placed on house arrest while law enforcement did their monthly search of the main and surrounding cities, resources were running low. Normally they didn't take this long. A day or two but it's been almost a week. If Sal knew it would take them this long he would've gotten more things at his weekly visit to the market. God knows how much longer it'll be before they can step outside into what little streaks of sunlight manage to escape through the clouds.

'They are thorough. That's for sure. Never missing a detail... '

A drawn out sigh passed Sal's lips. He let his hand drop from the wall to his side with a small slap noise. The sound bounced off the walls and settled back into unnerving silence. He hated it. It made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat. Nothing ever filled the silent void that this world had been cast into. Only sounds that people ignored and locked their doors to. The wailing of women and children, the stoic faces of men, and the anguished screaming of those being dragged off to who knows where. It chilled Sal to the bone and tugged at his heart ever so slightly.

'But this was right. Wasn't it?'

If this was how the world was supposed to be then why did he feel so disgusted every time he looked in the mirror. It was like he was seeing another version of himself. A version that wasn't him at all. But that was him, and his own reflection staring right back scars and all. He could feel the maggots crawling underneath his skin. Eating away ever so slowly until he was nothing but a skeletal figure. The coldness spread throughout his body and the slick feeling brought on an itch.

A sharp pain drew him from his thoughts and he glanced down at his arm. Apparently while deep in thought he scratched the skin on his forearm raw.

"Damn it" He hissed under his breath.

It was no surprise that this happened. It had become a bad habit over the years though he can't remember how it came about. He shuffled over to the worn down bathroom and opened the cupboard. Scanning over bottles upon bottles of medication until he spotted a tall semi transparent one in the corner. Reaching out and grabbing it, he proceeded to soak a nearby washcloth with the last of the rubbing alcohol.

"One more thing to add to the list". He sighed letting his head fall back against the dirty bathroom wall.

A loud thud from downstairs startled Sal and caused him to peak his head out from the bathroom and eye the stairs. A shadow moved along the tile floor at the bottom of the steps followed by a long string of curses. A small side smile formed on Sal's face before disappearing almost instantly as he moved to walk down the stairs. The washcloth and rubbing alcohol long forgotten. He stepped down the oak stairs carefully as to not make too much noise. The stairs were old and had many places where they would creak. Such as the bottom step which he hopped over with ease when reaching the bottom. The light from under the microwave emitted a soft yellow glow and illuminated his father standing at the counter. His elbows rested on the counter, his hands supporting his head as he tried to calm his breathing. No doubt he startled himself by tripping over something in the darkness. Cans littered the floor. Mostly along the walls and around the coffee table. The trash can was overflowing with crumpled up paper and the slight smell of smoke lingered in the air from a recently put out cigarette.

'When we're allowed outside again I'll clean this up and take it out.'

It was the least he could do. After all, it normally wasn't this bad.

Sal cleared his throat which made his father look up with wide eyes. After their mini staring contest his father relaxed and sighed. Visibly dejected.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did Sal."

Sally walked towards his father and took up the space next to him.

"No, I was already awake." he yawned out ruffling his blue hair a little.

Henry side eyed him and nudged his arm a little. "You need to get some sleep kid. I don't understand how you can function with so little of it."

Sal shrugged but didn't say a word.

Truth was that he was tired. Very tired but couldn't always sleep. He didn't consider it to be insomnia but more or less the night terrors he got. Or what he assumed to be night terrors. He would wake up in a cold sweat jerking from his bed to the floor. Heart pounding almost threatening to tear open his chest for a way to escape. His body shook uncontrollably, especially his hands. They were the last to stop shaking. His throat would feel dry and he wouldn't be able to swallow. The dust kicking up from his erratic breathing made everything worse. Yet somehow he never seemed to be able to remember the dreams. They didn't come every night but he would be afraid to sleep. It terrified him.

Telling Henry was never an option. Sal didn't want to put anything else on his father's shoulders. He had enough to deal with though he rarely tells Sal half of what's going on. His son could read him like a book.

Chuckling could be heard from Sal's right. He turned his head to look at his father with furrowed brows. "What's so funny?"

Henry coughed into his fist and tried to wipe the small smile off his face. "Nothing, it's just obvious you're tired."

His son scoffed "How do you know I'm tired? I just yawned."

Henry raised his eyebrows. His forehead creased in the process. "Exactly my point!"

Sal rolled his eye and started off towards the stairs. "Yawning doesn't always mean people are tired dad."

His dad hummed in acknowledgment but made a shuing motion towards the stairs when sal paused to glare at him. "Either way it's only a few hours until sunrise. I heard they should be finished with their routine search tomorrow. I would suggest getting some shut eye before then."

Sal perked up a little at the thought of getting to go outside again. Even if it's not the nicest he wanted out of this cramped building. "It's about time."

"You tell me, I need to get back to work." Henry said while sitting up straighter. "I'm going to try and get in a few more hours of sleep. You should too Sal. Goodnight." He patted Sal's back while walking into his bedroom and shutting the door.

Sal stood there for a few moments staring at the door then shifting his eye to the window in the living room. The clock on the table near it read 4:00AM. No lights were on outside minus one street light. Goosebumps prickled his arms and he started to feel choked up. As swiftly as he could he grabbed the curtains and closed them. Standing there for a few more moments he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered to himself to calm down.

The stairs groaned in protest as he retreated back to his room. Though he didn't care as much this time. Shutting the door and locking it he flopped down onto the blanket covered bed and rolled over onto his back. Breathing deeply and realizing that he forgot to ask what his father was even awake for. Normally he's fast asleep and a deep sleeper at that. Anyways, theres always morning.

He reached over to make sure his prosthetic was still residing on the bedside table and with that he turned off the lights. Pulling the covers back and snuggling into their warmth he rested one arm behind his head staring at the ceiling.

'I'll get up early tomorrow to go get what we need and to clean up a little. Hopefully dad's right about it all being over for now.'

With that thought everything fell back into silence. It brought on disaster, deception, false hope leaving behind broken pieces and dismembered buildings with its withering people anticipating what's next.

The same silence that Sal Fisher hated.

[Unedited]