The Untold Story of Texas and Lappland (Arknights)

Days of Forgotten Past 4

It was not alright when her parents would come home late at night fighting and shouting and screaming at one another. Nor was it alright when they became impatient with her, stress overwhelming them beyond anything they had dealt with before. Texas had not known she was watching her parents descent into infection at the start of it all, and even when she was brought forward to the truth one fateful night her heart still refused to believe it. She could not believe it to be true.

But it was.

Texas woke to the sound of banging on her door. Lappland, as usual was up right at the first knock, rushing over to the window. They had made a contingency long ago for her to hide out on the roof to avoid being discovered. Texas walked towards the door, blinking away sleep from her tired eyes. The clock on the wall read 3 am. Who was at her door?

"Who is it?" She asked.

One of her blankets was fisting up in her hands. She had lost her socks at some point during her sleep. The fluffy blanket gave the illusion of warmth to her bare toes. Her pajamas were a long sleeved shirt and pants —a matching set much like the ones Lappland wore— and they had soft red stripes running up them. The holiday season had came and went. Spring was on the horizon but Columbia would remain cold for several more months.

"Open up." A harsh voice barked at the door. Texas frowned, ears perking up with alert. The voice belonged to one of the local hired Huntsman. She couldn't recognize which one exactly, but she knew it well enough.

"Okay."

She undid the lock with ease. The hinges groaned as whoever was on the other side slammed the door open. The gust of wind bushed the loose strands of hair in front of her face up, her eyes widening in surprise as she was grabbed by two firm hands and practically yanked outside of her room. The person was definitely a Huntsman, with his gray eyes, scraggly beard and burly shoulders.

"Come on. Let's get going." His voice upped in volume without the door separating them. Texas struggled underneath his harsh grip. What was going on? This man had never been to her room before, had never been allowed inside their home. Why was he here now? Just what did he want?

"No. Let go of me! What's going on?" Texas struggled in vane. A distant part of her wondered if she should shout to Lappland for help. If this man was up to no good, Texas could use all the help she could get. But there were no alarms . . .someone must've let him inside. So why is he here?

"We need to leave now. Come on," He said.

"No! Let go of me! Mama! Dad!" Texas was calling for them. The whole situation screamed wrong and left her feeling sick. Her feet were tripping over each other as she was dragged down the stairs. If the guy wasn't holding her up by the back of her shirt and her arm she would face planted onto the stairs.

"Stop shouting. This is for the best."

The Hunter was snapping. His breath was acidic, like squeezed lemons left out in the sun. They were passing by the many family photos. In the darkness it was impossible to see their faces, but Texas could name each person in the photos from memory. Her own photo slot was right next to her parents. She was not alpha yet, but her ascent had already been assured. It was a strange present to get, but a present nonetheless. All of the family had been there that night, celebrating. They had even taken a family photo to commemorate the momentous occasion. All of the Texas family was together, grinning from ear to ear. She loved the photo so much it was still tucked away in the pocket of her shirt, nestled right over her heart. The cold of the necklace Lappland gave her dangled nearby.

"Why are you doing this? I don't want to go anywhere!" She shouted defiantly. Her lungs ached as she was roughly shoved down the rest of the steps into the awaiting arms of another man. It was Grandpa Houston. His expression was grim, but he handled her with gentle care. He smelled of smoke and ginger ale, his mustache flecked with gray. She was steadied a foot away from him, his arms still on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. The hunter from earlier went to the entrance doorway. The man remained rigid like a statue. Texas fought back the urge to shout at him some more, focusing on Houston.