✧ ཻུ۪۪. love is the most beautiful of dreams ,
and the worst of nightmares . . .
in which the quiet sister of lizzie and mika learns that to love deeply is to ache - that hurt is part of the package, and the beauty...
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ELLA COULD REMEMBER THE TORTURE of physical education, back when children were forced to attend an educational institution of their parent's choosing.
Having to endure the public humiliation of climbing rock walls, jump rope, basketball, and running loops around the track that traced their school. Things the girl was never good at. Ella struggled to even attempt a literal push up, back in the day. Activities that left her leaving the building with sweat-soaked skin and new cramps to line her legs.
Now, she would have gladly traded for that suffering, anything to rid of her muscular pain. The aftermath of their prison fall, several days ago. A marathon into the crowd of trees to ensure her safety, only to leave her with a reverberation of pain. Involuntary contractions of her calf began to occur, after that. Tight knots that were accompanied by a sharp, shooting torment. Lasting a few seconds, never prompted for. Continuous and annoying, while her body was trying to recover from such an exasperated exertion. Her body deciding to add the flair of menstrual contractions, on top of all the torment.
After Carl had found her, and they indulged in the sweet treat of chocolate, he brought her back to their temporary abode. Rick was still asleep, his face initially startling Ella. The man was absolutely covered in bruises, blood, and swollen extremities. He hardly even looked recognizable, in that state, with his shredded clothes hanging off his form. It was something his son blamed on the Governor, only having stopped his explanation there.
It seemed he did not want to be questioned about the questionable fate of his father, while he laid there in what she could only assume would be a critical condition.
Gradually, the sun began to set, and the two settled upstairs. Carl, letting Ella occupy most of the bed, having lingered towards the other side, as he typically did. The girl, wrapping herself in the sheets he refused. All the while her muscles ached, not accustomed to such a physical backlash, an awakening that she previously forgot. In addition, there were the tiny scraps and nicks across her skin, gashes from either gunfire or sporadic debris. Never exactly felt, not until a cloth embraced her body, rubbing and inflicting friction on the tender sores.
