The Runt of the Litter

Shards (of us)

Note: Thank you so much for the reads, votes, and comments!

I know I'm posting this later in the day than usual but I usually finish writing chapters on Friday night and I was just a bit too sleep-deprived and half-dead to get this one done last night. So, I've been working on it since I woke up this morning and I'm posting it now having just finished it!

This chapter was a request by the super kind VallyeCate who wanted to see the aftermath of Glass Lives. I know this took a while to get down on paper, but I hope you find it worth the wait!

As in Glass Lives, Anna is fifteen.

YOU GUYS!

A fantastic wattpader just gave me an incredible gift... She drew pictures to go with some chapters. And I'm adding them because she said I could and because she did such a good job and they're too perfect not to share. Thank you SO MUCH @Musicpotterhead, you're a goddess.

Tap on the photo to see the whole thing, guys, they're all beautiful. And I'm putting this message at the beginning of each chapter that has an image, so you all take a second and look at them. And tell Musicpotterhead how amazing she is. Because she is. She's amazing.

Shards (of us)

Yet one more sleepless night ended with the sound of her alarm clock jerking her from a state of spacey exhaustion, staring at her bedroom ceiling. Anna sighed heavily through her nose and rolled over to bury her face, burning eyes and all, into her pillow.

It was the same every night, blonde curly hair that was just like hers leaving sanguine stains behind her eyes. She was glad they'd been at the bunker for the week and a half since her mother, because she'd been able to keep her nightmares mostly to herself. Of course, that didn't make it any easier. Her eyes were beginning to constantly look like she'd been punched in the face, the bags under them so dark.

In a stupor of sorts, Anna stumbled out to the kitchen, barefoot, in her pajama pants and a hoodie. She filled the first mug she could find to the brim with dark roast coffee and didn't bother drinking it any way other than black. Solely because her body protested the idea of moving anymore at the moment, she sat at the kitchen table and alternated between resting her aching head against the cool wood and lifting it to take cautious sips of too-hot coffee.

Her eyes burned, but that was a constant these days. She didn't even flinch when she heard footsteps enter the kitchen. She didn't have the energy to lift her head, so she didn't until one of the chairs across the table from her was pulled out and Sam sat down in it.

"Time is it?" she asked him groggily before diving into her cup of coffee, which had finally reached drinking temperature.

"Seven," Sam answered, looking like he had something more to say. He stayed quiet.

Anna bobbed her head in a slightly uncoordinated nod. It was just as she finished her cup of coffee and set down an empty mug that Sam spoke again.

"You, uh... doin' okay?" he asked casually, then hid his face behind his own cup of coffee.

Anna looked slowly up at him, trying to think of a way to answer that, but mostly hoping she wouldn't have to. Sam's gaze didn't waver, though, as he studied her eyes, clearly seeing something worrisome there if the crinkle between his eyebrows was any indication. "I'm fine," she finally said when it became clear he was willing to wait her out.

"Are you sure?" Sam repeated in disbelief as she stood up and began to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Because it's been almost two weeks now, Anna, and you still haven't said anything about-"