Don't Be Scared

S2 E1 : 🔹 TM 🔹 (Ch. 118)

10K sighed at the awakening of (Y/N) (M/N) Thompson before going on his hands and knees. The scene in front of him was like a movie: the (H/C) thrashed around like a three-year-old who religiously believed that seat belts were prisons for mini-humans.

If it wasn't for the fact they were just in a wreck and they'd just released a nuclear bomb within miles of them, his exhausted body would've let him smile at the scene. She was cute, he had to admit but not to her or anyone else for that matter.

"How the actual hell are you suppose to get out of this stupid contraption during a fucking car accident?!" The sixteen-year-old growled out, resorting to sticking the rigged material inside her mouth to chew on.

'Disgusting.' 10K converted his thoughts in an instant at the different sighting he was watching, not understanding why that would be her next method to escape.

Nevertheless, he crawled deeper inside the wreckage, hearing the crunch of glass and feeling the sharp edges dig into his kneecaps through the thick fabric of his pants.

"Fuck-ity fuck!" (Y/N) groaned out in a rush, noticing her bite marks couldn't even be seen.

Panic painted her whole features and form as post traumatic stress from the past's tragedy replayed on a screen that only she could hear and see. The screams of the men that were sworn to not only protect her but the other civilians echoed as if she was trapped in her own tunnel.

The distress shouts of fears from fathers who had yet to find their families or who had already found their loved ones dead. Hopeless cries from the children who had been separated from the only people that they knew on the army truck.

The groans of the dying mothers who just wanted to make sure their lovers or little loves had survived the destruction of the wreck. These sounds haunted the poor soul of the thirteen-year-old for weeks, months.

The only thing she was thankful for when it came to reminiscing about that day was the fog or smoke. It prevented her form seeing the disaster someone had caused; it prevented her little, innocent eyes from seeing the road rashes most of the corpses had sustained.

"(Y/N)."

The simple call of her name was not what brought her mind back to reality. It was the person who had said her name like the profanities she shouted wasn't going to be a reason why they'd turn the other way.

It was from an individual who seemed to be immune to her sailor talk and the way she definitely didn't look her prettiest. Drool leaked from the corner of her lips, blood was trickling from the baby cut on her features, and her hair was in a bigger mess than Doc's stingy strands.

No, it was the way that certain person called out to her was like he made the whole horror movie inside her head go to an immediate pause. It's like he turned off the whole movie projector. And he did all of this with only the sound of his voice.

That voice was her trigger to stop squirming. The tone he used with her--it was firm but not too harsh--was enough to stop the ragged breathing that escaped pass her chap lips. It was enough.

He was enough for her.

"I-I can't get o-out, 10K."

Her cries for help made him want to instantly cut the strap and hold her, but why would he want to do that? She was merely an acquaintance--that was evolving into a close friend--that he promised to protect for a mutual friend.

"Calm down and I'll get you out." He promised with every fiber in his body, even though it wasn't exactly that serious.

He got right beside her hanging form, moving to sit crisscross on the glass flooring beneath them. (Y/N) attempted to move her hair back to watch 10K's rescue attempt, but the loose strands had grown since she first started sporting this style.

The strands just fell back into her eyes, blinding her from what was in front. 10K unsheathed his clean knife with a simple tug of the hand. He slid his fingernails across (Y/N)'s covered collarbones to grip the seat belt.

He didn't want to risk making her panic even worse by cutting her on mistake.

"Put your hands out above your head to catch yourself." He ordered, trying not to waste anymore time than what he had done by staring at her.

He had spent enough time sending pictures of her to his long-term memory log. Both teenagers neglected to think about one simple mistake with that order of his.

Even the owner of the wounds forgot about the stitches wrapping around her wrists like an anaconda around a crocodile. The desperation clouded her logical thinking, and plus, she didn't want 10K to use the same tone he had used when he had saw the muffin top of smoke.

She remembered he had used such a demanding voice at her for the first time since they'd met. Yet, anything after what he had said to her went into the dark part of her mind, not remembering a thing.

It did make her a little angry towards him, but she understood he needed to get his point across right then and there, or the couple of scratches and one or two bruises she received from the car crash would've been even worse.

Once he saw her hands extend out, almost touching the new ground, 10K swiped the sharp blade across the material twice before it finally broke into two. (Y/N) was rushed to the ground from the lack of restraints.

Her hands did catch her, but with the sore slashes on her forearms in combination with the mini pieces of shard glass digging into her palm, her right hand was the first to give out from under her weight.

The young woman fell at an angle, because of the lack of structure. Once the fall was over with she flipped onto her back, not realizing the situation she had put them in. (Y/N)'s eyelids covered the (E/C) irises as panicked breaths began to be released again.

She just wanted to go. She wanted to go home, take a hot bath to brush off the restless day of school, and eat cookies with her mom. She wanted to help her mom in the kitchen as they watched Mack and her dad mess around.

She'd give her whole hand away if it meant she could have one more day with her whole family, together.

|| Promise to be here even when I'm broken? ||