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enithinggoes · 2 years

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Cursed Kids, chapter 4: A crow screams

At the very start of the 22nd of June, 2022, Benjamin stood at the edge of an open window. His parents’ servants were instructed to stay always away from sight, so he had hopes that no one would be watching from outside the mansion, if he left without opening the door, maybe he’d stand a chance of disappearing before they noticed.

A memory repeatedly went through his mind: Benjamin had been in a black void, in front of him was a large campfire, his only source of heat and light. He heard the beating of powerful wings somewhere overhead, but couldn’t find its source until an enormous crow landed in front of him. He yelped and fell backwards, but the bird larger than an adult man only observed him and tilted its head curiously to the side.

“Where am I? Who are you? What are you?”

“I-AM-YOU-,” The crow spoke in pieces of Benjamin’s speech taken apart and stitched back together, but its voice was rougher and shriller, like a short screech for every piece separated by small pauses.

“Are you… using my voice?” Benjamin stood up slowly, noticing the bird was not aggressive, but interested. He reached his right hand out cautiously.

“I-AM-VOICE-,” The crow lowered its head and stretched out its neck, allowing the boy to touch it; its eyes closed slightly when Benjamin ran his hand through its feathers.

“Huh. Can you only speak using the words you hear? Then… could I call you Echo?” He felt a strangely powerful connection to this large crow that simply appeared in front of him.

“I-AM-ECHO-,” Said Echo, and hopped forwards to rub the top of his head against Benjamin, accidentally pushing him a step backwards.

After that Benjamin had woken up in the room where he was now, and since then everything he heard and observed stayed perfectly registered in his memories, he could impeccably recall the way his mother said “maybe we’ve been too soft on him so far, we need to amend our errors as parents for him to achieve his real potential” overlooking him dazed on the bed.

Benjamin shook his head, it wasn’t time to think about that, now that he was here, he had to jump as soon as possible, if someone came into his room now, they’d see he’d opened the window and tied his blankets into a security rope of sorts, not long enough to reach the ground below, but it would allow him to slowly lower himself to a safe height for a landing in the bushes if he was careful.

Still, Benjamin hesitated, what if they caught him? He’d always found his parents intimidating, but never “casually kill people” intimidating. Trying to predict how he might be punished he could only be sure he didn’t know these people, not really.

00:01=>Tinysaster: Ok guys, I’m gonna climb down the window, is anyone coming with me?

=>Tinysaster: Elizabeth told you already, right Henrique?

00:02=>Tinysaster: Are you awake?

00:04=>Tinysaster: …

00:05=>Tinysaster: Alright.

=>Tinysaster: I won’t force anyone, everyone’s life is their own.

Okay, okay, he can do this by himself, yeah. Keeping his improvised rope bundled up under his arm, he can release it in small increments and have a controlled descent, everything is under control. *Tock, tock, tock, Blam!* *Tock, tock, tock, Blam!* Uh oh, there’s someone hurriedly walking down the corridor and opening the doors of rooms before slamming them shut! Shit shit shit, it’s getting closer.

Benjamin heard his door opening and before anyone could see him at the window, he jumped. Forgetting to hold the blankets firmly under his arm, he went through freefall until the rope was pulled fully taut; a strong pull on his right hand holding the tip almost dislocated his right arm and stopped his fall. He held scream of pain inside his throat and let go of the blanket, dropping down to the bushes below.

Hugging his right arm to his chest and breathing heavily due to the pain, Benjamin immediately got up and started to run, pushed forward by fear. Illuminated only by the moon, he had no idea where he was going, but he knew he wanted to get away. Looking behind him, he saw a shadow on the window from which he’d left. Someone was using the security rope he’d prepared better than he had. Run faster, dammit!

Benjamin was already tired before he left the mansion’s yard, that’s what living 13 years without living the house does to you. However, upon hearing the voice of a man behind him, though it wasn’t his father, yell “Benjamin! Come back!” He ignored the pain in his diaphragm and arm and forced his body to run again, fear can do amazing things for a person’s stamina; unfortunately it can also blind them to less obvious dangers ahead.

“Benjamin! Look at the goddamm ground!” Benjamin tripped and fell rolling over the grass until he stopped with his back to the floor, looking for the branch or root he’d tripped on. Instead he came face to face with what looked like an enormous green leech slithering through the grass. Its teeth were bizarrely thin and straight, like those of a crocodile, meant not to make big cuts in the skin and cause bleeding, but to stab deep and hold tight to whatever they bit into.

The creature let out a high hiss as it slowly slid over Benjamin now that he had fallen and was trying to use his arms to drag himself backwards. The opening of its mouth expanded and expanded until it fully enveloped the boy’s left leg and closed abruptly, its thin white teeth digging deeply into the boy’s thigh. Benjamin screamed and cried in pain, desperately shaking his leg, in it he felt like 6 needles had stabbed into his flesh at the same time, along with an extreme pressure squeezing it and interrupting his circulation.

The shadow that had been following him since the window crouched down beside him, it was Henrique! “Hold on.” He tried to grab onto the edge of the mouth of the “leech”, but the space between it and the leg was too small for him to fit his fingers or even his nails. Henrique then gripped the tail of the creature and tried pulling, but that just made Benjamin feel as if his own leg were being ripped out, making him yell “Stop stop stop stop!” while the pressure increased every second.

“Fuck… Ok, Benjamin, you’re gonna want to look at the sky for a minute, I’m going to help you out.” Benjamin dry swallowed and did as he was told, he focused his eyes on the moon and tried not to think of what he was hearing: The sound of flesh being torn apart along with something like a guttural roar, followed by a hissed scream while the pressure over his leg rapidly loosened. Finally, he heard Henrique spitting and coughing 3 times before turning looking back down and seeing his friend with his teeth and face covered in blood and the monster split in two right under Benjamin’s foot.

Henrique looked at Benjamin’s face and tried to clean the blood with his sleeves and calm him down “You’re okay… you’re okay… Can you walk? We gotta get the fuck outta here. I can carry you, but we have to leave before-“

“ᎥᏝᏝᏬᎷᎥᏁᏗᏖᏋ.” A voice that Benjamin recognized as his mother’s seemed to thunder from the heavens. Speaking a word that should not make sense, but Benjamin understood it perfectly: Illuminate.

A luminous sphere appeared over both of them, making Benjamin’s eyes sting after so long in the dark. “Thank you for leaving a thintooth on guard here in the yard and telling me about this. I knew something like this was bound to happen, it only surprises me that your daughter isn’t here with him,” The voice of Camila Duarte was back to its usual calm.

“My Elizabeth is smart enough not to try something so stupid. She would have a much better plan.” Amelia Ramos stepped into the light beside her, observing the boys from above.

Henrique stood up to stand between Benjamin and the adults, he was visibly shaking, but wouldn’t step back, whispering “Get up Benjamin, stand up and run.”.

“ᎴᎥᎶ.” Said William Duarte, also appearing from the darkness with a voice that made the ground shake, Benjamin understood the command, “Dig”, and the earth below Henrique opened up, trapping him in a hole 2,5 meters deep and one meter each side. “We’ll leave your discipline to your parents, Henrique, and to think they were truly proud of you… They didn’t even come over here. Amelia, please stay out of this for a while. Camila and I need to have a talk with little Benjamin.”

“Mom, dad, why are you doing this? I thought you wanted me to grow up and develop into the most respectable member of society possible.” Benjamin tried to get up, but his thigh hurt so much, he couldn’t put any weight on his left leg.

“Oh, Benjamin, we’ve failed you.” Benjamin’s mother came closer and held onto his hands, letting him lean on her to stand up on just one leg. “We thought by giving you contact with only your few equals, you’d understand your place isn’t in society, but overseeing it from above. You aren’t human, Benjamin, neither is Henrique or Elizabeth. You’re gods, and to be gods, you must learn that the lives and concerns of the rabble are irrelevant to you, you’re above that. But it’s alright, you couldn’t kill him this time, that’s our fault, we should have introduced you to human death earlier. But what we really must teach right now.” She stared at her son with the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Is that you should not try to run from us.” Camila Duarte suddenly pushed Benjamin’s hands forward and let go, making him lose his balance while she exclaimed “ᏇᎥᏁᎴ.”-“wind.”

A strong gust of wind seemed to manifest from the space between them and throw Benjamin backwards, sending him rolling on the grass once again, his leg stinging hard on contact. Camila walked after him leisurely.

“ᏇᎥᏁᎴ”

Another one came vertically downwards, smashing Benjamin against the ground.

“ᏇᎥᏁᎴ”. “ᏇᎥᏁᎴ”. “ᏇᎥᏁᎴ”.

The volume of her voice and the force of the gales kept increasing, Benjamin curled up on the grass and tried to protect himself with his arms on his head, his limbs shook and he felt as if his bones were dry branches in the middle of a terrible storm. He wanted to cry out in pain, defend his actions, beg for mercy or forgiveness. Instead he felt a single word, a power welling up deep inside his lungs.

The magic of the speakers can be used without risk in internal disputes, for the words that command the universe are incomprehensible even to other speakers and must be learned individually through rigorous study and communion. However, as Camila herself said, Benjamin Duarte wasn’t human, and it was unwise to use the power of the word against the Crow.

“ᏇᎥᏁᎴ.”

Benjamin raised his head and screamed with all the air he had in his chest, the resulting blast catapulted not just his mother, but also his father and Amelia Ramos many meters into the darkness towards the mansion. Benjamin got up onto his knees, after a few seconds the glowing sphere created by his mother disappeared. His leg and arm throbbed in pain and his throat had been horribly scraped after being taken to its limits by the spell, he tasted iron in his mouth. Still, the boy was able to limp a few steps to where Henrique was stuck and give him his hand to help him up.

With Benjamin’s aid, Henrique pulled himself out of the hole, he looked around, grabbed Benjamin in his arms, using one hand to support his back and the other to hold his legs, avoiding as much as possible touching the half of the “thintooth” still stuck to it, trying to rip it out would only cause more bleeding. “Let’s go,” he said, and Benjamin held onto Henrique for support and leaned his head against his arm in silence.

Henrique ran for blocks and block, taking turns at crooked streets and taking as many paths non traversable by car as possible. After minutes of running, he and Benjamin came into the yard of an empty house for sale and hid among the tall unkempt grass that had grown over the years. “I think they won’t find us here, how are you doing?”

Benjamin opened his mouth to speak, but the air stung when it passed his throat with any amount of force.

“Can’t speak?” He gently put Benjamin down on the ground to rest.

Benjamin nodded his head.

“I… I’m gonna go look around, se if they’re looking for us around her, knock out anyone who is.” Henrique got up to walk, but stopped when he felt Benjamin pulling at the hem of his pants and heard the tiniest whisper of “…stay…” which made him smile slightly and sit down behind Benjamin, letting the boy lay his head on his lap.

“Okay, what was that back there? Are you a wizard or something?”

Benjamin shrugged, unsure.

“Dude, our parents are totally evil, huh?”

He nodded slowly, looking down. He should have taken it more seriously when Henrique spoke of the “training” he went through. Of course he said it was hell.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Henrique tried to lift the tone of conversation. “I wasn’t expecting you to leave through the window, they were all closed, weren’t they? Can you pick locks?”

Benjamin nodded, a little embarrassed, he’d thought it would be something cool to know so he trained with lots of tutorials on the internet.

“That’s so fucking cool, man.” Henrique gently pat Benjamin’s forehead.

Benjamin relaxed for the first time in hours, his whole body still hurt, but at least he wasn’t alone, his eyelids slowly fell as the adrenaline left his system…

The last thing he saw was a car with the headlights off coming down the street they were in.

#Cursed Kids #Original Work #original writing #original story #urban fantasy #found family #Tw parental abuse #tw violence #tw swearing #Benjamin's very very bad no good night #Magic #enni

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 8 months

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𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 ║ Chapter 11 - And When Her Halo Broke, She Carved the Two Halves into Horns

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.7k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: sensitive material warning (marked with banner)

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and Joel are more alike than either of you might even know, but you know enough to be sure it’s not a connection you’re willing to give up on easily. Joel makes a concerted effort to make amends, and you have to decide if you’ll let him.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ "𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚢𝚊𝚠𝚙 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍." ─ Wᴀʟᴛ Wʜɪᴛᴍᴀɴ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

Joel wasn’t sure how to make amends. The two of you were lost in this strange liminal space where you were gracious enough to let him help you in the few ways that he could. He’d apologized, sure, but it wasn’t outside of whatever whirlwind you were in the midst of. His sorries didn’t feel like they counted, and he knew it was because they didn’t. Not yet. He needed to think of something to say, some way to express how much of an idiot he was. Something for you to continue letting him take care of you in some small way.

He stilled for a moment when your face scrunched and crumpled. A small whine left your lips. He pulled you in closer to him. He breathed in your scent and told himself it was just to comfort you and not just an excuse for his self-satisfaction to indulge in you being so close. He’d rarely had moments where he could be so still with you. Where he could take you in, take care of you, hold you. Your expression smoothed out as you settled into a peaceful slumber again.

If he messed this up, there would be no other chances. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to earn another one from you after he’d acted so awful. Maybe no other choice when you were drowning and needed a hand to keep you above the waves. The moment you weren’t gasping for a breath of reprieve from the things haunting you, that was it. He wouldn’t have an excuse to hold you. He wouldn’t have a reason to seek you out and whisper sweet things to you. You wouldn’t need him. You hadn’t ever needed him. A small part of you might want him, but you didn’t need him. He tried to shake the truth that more often than not he was feeling that he needed you.

If he ruined this with you… he could already feel his chest caving in at the thought. He didn’t know why he self-sabotaged things that he wanted so badly. Some form of survival and preservation of himself: you can’t lose what you don’t have.

And outside of himself there was Ellie to think about. She’d grown attached to you because of course she had. How could she not? You had done nothing except be kind and helpful – and overbearing – ever since they’d arrived. You and Ellie chatting mindlessly was something he could listen to until the sun burned out. The way you drew easy conversation from someone as wounded and scared as Ellie, despite the tough front she put up, was enough to make you special. But of course, there was so much more to you. There always was, he was coming to learn. He’d time and again never given you the credit you deserved.

You were easy to talk to whenever you weren’t at each other’s throats. The more Joel had sat with it, the more he realized that what drove him up the wall with you was how similar the two of you were. You handled things in different ways, yes, but at your core there was that bit of ego and overprotective nature, the kind that riddled you with regret and grief when you failed. Especially when you failed someone you loved. He’d done a shit job for decades at dealing with his own grief.

Ellie had helped in ways he would never stop being grateful for. A tinge of embarrassment clouded Joel’s cheeks when he thought just for a moment if it would be possible that he could be that for you, be the person who cuts through it all and gives you a place to rest your sorrow until you’re strength comes back and you’re ready to pick it up and carry it again.

Joel didn’t know how to do that, though. He was quick to anger, something he was afraid would never change, and he was awful at communicating anything beyond impersonal snippets. He needed to show you, somehow, that he meant it. He meant it when he said he cared for you. He meant it when he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. He meant it when he said he’s got you.

Joel tilts his head down to watch you as you sleep. You’re curled into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if you can’t get close enough. Your brow furrows at the same time your fists clench tighter around the fabric. You mutter something in your sleep. It sounds pointed even through the slur of unconsciousness.

He presses small kisses against your forehead, and it soothes you back into a restful state. You’ve been asleep for hours. Joel feels fairly certain you’d sleep for many more if he let you. He extricates himself from your hold and walks stiffly to the kitchen. Remaining unmoved for so many consecutive hours had done a number on his joints.

He checks the clock on your stove to confirm what he already suspected. You’ve been asleep for quite a while - just under six hours. The bag of tea he’d hastily grabbed at the shop lay lopsided on the counter where he’d lobbed it earlier. He can’t remember what Will had said was in it or how he was supposed to prepare it. At the time he was distracted with thoughts of finding you and making sure you weren’t thinking of doing something stupid.

A light knock on the door pulled him from his musings. He hurried up the hallway and opened the front door.

“Joel? What the fuck are you doing here?” Ellie laughs under her breath.

Joel shushes her and pulls her inside. He closed the door and jerked his head towards the sealed double doors leading to where you’re still fast asleep, or so he hopes.

“She’s sleepin’, so keep it down, will ya?” he huffs under his breath.

Ellie’s curious expression morphs into a smug, giddy grin. The sides of her cheeks are pulled in between her back teeth as she does a poor job of hiding her gloating smile. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mutters as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

Ellie follows in step, her expression never wavering. “So, you finally fixing whatever weird shit you did to fuck up the friendship you had going?” Her exaggerated tone on the word “friendship” was impossible to miss.

“I’m tryna make sure she’s alright,” he defends himself stiffly.

Ellie smirks and sways on the spot, her energy palpable at Joel’s obvious self-consciousness.

“Hm, that’s real nice of you, Joel. Didn’t know you were such a softie,” she needles.

Joel levels an exasperated scowl in her direction as he tries to put together what he needs to make you some tea. He grumbles under his breath, expressing his distaste of Ellie’s teasing.

“So, is she alright?” Her tone wavers into something more serious for a moment before she shifts into the safer territory of sarcasm. “Doing better now that you’re here?” She waggles her eyebrows theatrically at him.

Joel ignores the attempts to deflect the extent of her concern with detached humor. It’s something he’s all too familiar with and has been trying to do better about.

“She’ll be alright. We just gotta keep tryna help her where we can,” he says thoughtfully. Ellie nods and averts her gaze. “I think m’gonna stay here with her for a little longer if that’s alright with you?”

Ellie shrugs as though she expected no different. “Yeah, of course. I can keep myself out of trouble for a few hours.” She traipses through the kitchen, heading towards the front door. “At least I think I can. No promises, though,” she adds with a childish giggle.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mutters with a smile tugging at his lips.

He starts the water in the kettle you already have on the stove and walks Ellie out. She gives a short wave and glances at the window where your bed lies beyond the panes. She turns without another word and heads home.

The kettle is slowly coming to a boil in the kitchen while Joel readies a cup and a strainer to separate the tea leaves from the mug. He searches your cabinets, which turn up pitifully empty. He considers for a moment if you might need some things picked up or if you’d let him do that for you. Maybe he could just put Ellie up to it so you wouldn’t argue.

He removes the kettle from the burner and turns it off before the steam can start whistling and wake you. He sets the kettle to the side for a moment while checking if your fridge is in the same state as your cabinets. He doesn’t get very far into his inspection when he hears you stirring from your sleep. He closes the fridge to make it easier to hear, leaning his head the direction of your door.

You sound restless, maybe. Upset? Something not quite as it should be, he can tell that much. He walks towards the hallway leading to your room and hears the unmistakable sound of crying. He pushes the door open and can’t tell if you’re awake or not. By the time he nears the edge of the bed, it’s clear that you’re in the midst of some sort of nightmare.

You’re muttering “don’t look” over and over in the garbled, thick voice of sleep. Joel isn’t sure if you’re talking to yourself or to someone in your dream. Either way, you’re visibly distressed at the turn of events happening in your mind. Joel hears it then. Your sister’s name tumbles with frantic pain from your lips.

Caroline. You’re telling Caroline not to look.

Joel senses he’s failed to deliver on his promise of making sure you slept peacefully, that he’d stay with you and keep you safe - even from your own mind if that’s what you needed. He decides to wake you before he lets you down any further than he already has.

The outline of a middle aged woman and a young girl ebb between silhouette and fleeting focus of features. It was the mother and daughter you and Caroline traveled with for a few months.The dense thicket of trees forms around the four of you. A fire cracks and pops, water making the stones hiss on contact. The conversation slows and turns to getting rest for the long day ahead of you in the morning.

The scene shifts like smoke rising from the extinguished campfire the four of you had sat around hours earlier. Your knife glimmers in a stray line of moonlight as it presses against the young girl’s throat. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I will do this if I have to,” you growl at the mother, shifting your knife slightly.

The girl is crying in your captive hold, shaking and begging you to please not hurt her or her mom. She’s a young teen, but her voice shakes with the fear of a much smaller, helpless child.

“They told me they’d let us go. I’m sorry. They told me all the routes we’ve been taking. They were watching us the past two days. I’m sorry,” the woman sobs.

“Let who go?” you demand.

“Me and Cassie,” she cries, eyes glancing back to your knife at the mention of her daughter’s name.

“If you gave us over to them?” you bark. She nods frantically, begging for you to understand she didn’t have any other choice. She couldn’t surrender her daughter to the horrors that awaited her at the hand of the slavers. She had to make this deal to save her daughter.

It was fucked up, but you understood why she would ultimately choose her daughter. It still wasn’t an excuse for why she’d willingly deliver you and Caroline to the same fate she couldn’t bear to let her daughter endure.

And, worst of all, she didn’t realize that she had been fooled twice over. Fooled into betraying you and Caroline, agreeing to lead you both into the slavers’ trap just a few hours from now. Fooled again for ever thinking they would actually let her and Cassie go after their end of the deal was done. Cassie was far too young and untouched to just let them go without a hitch.

Her desperation to protect her daughter had clouded her judgment. It was a nauseating but brilliant move on the slavers’ part to have her help incapacitate the strongest fighters in the group, which would make easy work of capturing the mother and daughter immediately after you and Caroline were confined. She had sentenced every last one of you to a life of horrors that would make you wish a clicker would just come and put you out of your misery.

You had caught wind of the plan, listening as Cassie absorbed all the hushed, hurried whispers her mother gave once she thought you and Caroline had fallen asleep. But you had stayed up, unable to shake the feeling that there was an unsettling change in the mother. Little motions of extra security, arms around Cassie more than usual, small glances at the edge of the trees as though she was expecting to see someone there waiting in the shadows.

Everyone had their bad days where the stress wore you down a little too much, your nerves frayed and exposed, putting you even more on edge than usual. But this was different. Something wasn’t right. The dread and anguish churned your insides as you eavesdropped. You could hear Cassie’s faltering agreements to stick close to her mother’s side the next morning and to keep her jackknife ready if it needed to be used. Cassie typically kept a small walking stick with her at all times, not often engaging in combat. The three of you instinctively protected her, and she was more helpful during a fight if she could just scramble to safety somewhere until it was over. The dark cloud twists the scene until it morphs into a clearer rendering, a close up of your knife edging into Cassie’s skin.

“We are going our separate ways. Right now,” you growl. “I’m not going to wait around until morning just so you can figure out another way to send us all to our own personal hell.”

You shove Cassie to the ground towards her mother as you dash to Caroline. She looks at you, the question in her eyes you don’t want to answer. A flash of sadness when she understands the conclusion of your silent conversation. A small nod to let you know she’s ready.

You turn to the other pair. Cassie is fumbling with her backpack, shoving as much of her things into it as quickly as she can.

“And one more thing before we go,” you snarl, approaching the mother slowly. Cassie continues frantically packing. “If you had just told us the truth, I could’ve done something to get us out of it. I could’ve figured something out. And, I wouldn’t have to do this right now.”

The mother realizes the meaning in your words mere seconds before your knife is lodged in her windpipe. A hollow scream gurgles from her as you twist the knife and rip it from her bleeding, torn flesh. She grasps helplessly at your feet, trying to stop the inevitable, but you’re already making your way over to her daughter.

Cassie’s head jerks up at the commotion, her face contorting into a silent scream. She stumbles and trips over nothing, her horror propelling her away from the scene of her brutalized mother. You hear Caroline crying somewhere behind you, ransacking the pair’s supplies to take for your own, holding up her part of the silent agreement. You force down the tears welling in your eyes as you reach for your small hatchet.

Cassie had scrambled off the ground, stumbling into a sprint.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you order in a choke.

You know you don’t have to tell her not to watch. You know she’s already forcing her line of sight away from the evolving bloodbath in front of her. You wish you could do the same. You rear back, launching the hatchet across the opening with precise aim. A dull slogging sound hits the air as the bit of your hatchet lays claim to the flesh between Cassie’s shoulder blades. She slumps instantly to the ground, coughing and writhing, still trying to escape your advancing footsteps.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you warn again, hot tears escaping.

You bend down and jerk the hatchet from Cassie’s back, refusing to let your mind register the resigned, helpless wail of pain coming from her when you reclaim your weapon from her bungled flesh.

“Don’t look, Caroline,” you cry again, grasping each end of the wooden handle and tucking it under Cassie’s neck.

Caroline’s shaky, sharp inhales and ragged exhales are the background soundtrack to this atrocity. You repeat your warnings to Caroline to please not watch - please not be a witness to what you are having to do in order to save the both of you. Please understand there wasn’t another way to let them go and spare their lives while also keeping your own safe. Cassie hadn’t done anything wrong, but letting her escape and try to survive on her own would just be more cruel than killing her right now.

Your tears fall onto your knee, squarely placed in the wound you just inflicted, as you keep the young girl grounded beneath your weight and pull the handle towards you. Her nails are scratching into your arms as she struggles, stripes of blood starting to pool where she has made enough contact. The clawing finally subsides as Cassie’s body slowly goes limp underneath you.

“Please don’t look, Caroline.”

“Hey.”

“Don’t look. Don’t look.”

“Hey. Wake up, honey.”

“I didn’t want to. I had to. I’m sorry. Don’t look.”

You are awoken to the stern call of your name. Your eyes snap open, adjusting to the low yellow light of the room you’re in. Joel’s face unblurs in front of you. His hands are on either side of your arms, a firm but gentle hold. Your face feels wet and sticky. Joel says your name again softly.

“Hey, right here. I need you to look right here,” he commands softly.

Your adrenaline is shot, a wave of something trying to shut down.

“Look at me,” he instructs, and you comply. The corners of his mouth are firmly downturned. His brow scrunched. His eyes almost look sad. “I don’t know where you jus’ were, but you’re here with me now,” he explains slowly.

Your senses begin aligning with the room around you. A slight chill in the air hits your damp face, but some blankets tangled in your legs provide a little warmth.

Joel’s hands provide warmth.

“Woulda been here sooner, but I was in the kitchen fixin’ somethin’ up. Been asleep a while.” You blink slowly. You hear the stove creaking as it heats up. Or maybe it’s cooling down. It’s dark outside your window. What time was it? How long had you been sleeping? How long had Joel stayed in bed with you?

You’re struck by how empty it feels without him in it, next to you and holding you. You sit up and shakily crawl towards him. You grab him closer to you with your arms around his neck.

“Gonna be okay. I promise,” he murmurs into your ear. You stare blankly ahead at the wall behind Joel’s head. You give an empty nod and pull back. Your hollow stare meets his uncertain expression.

“You should get up. Your knees are going to be killing you,” you rasp weakly.

You scoot yourself up into a sitting position. Joel grunts as he shifts off his knees and onto the bed next to you. Your hands are folded in your lap, your unfixed stare straight ahead never wavering. Joel leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his thighs and lacing his fingers together. You sit in silence for a few moments, the stove creaking occasionally.

“Punched this jackass in a makeshift bar one time,” Joel starts, clearing his throat. The statement is unexpected to say the least. You aren’t sure why Joel is sharing a bar fight story, but you don’t have it in you to linger on it.

“Firefly joint. Not the best place to spend your night, but it helped decent jobs crop up a whole lot more if you talked it up with the right people.”

You watch Joel’s profile as he speaks. There’s something soft there, open. Like he’s not hiding himself away or keeping a guard up. His usually closed off face is now a flow of expression, a roadmap of the thoughts and memories flooding his mind. It draws you in just seeing him like this.

“Anyway, this real booksmart, street stupid type guy that couldn’t hold his liquor for shit wouldn’t stop talkin’ to me about the ‘science of loss,’ whatever the fuck that’s supposed’ta mean. Just wanted to hear himself talk ‘n sound smart about his take on the end of the world and humanity and all that bullshit.” Joel exhales a sharp laugh through his nose at the memory.

“Started gettin’ all emotional talkin’ about his Firefly buddy that caught a clicker to the head. Wouldn’t shut up about how hard it is to lose somebody. Only let him go on as much as I did ‘cause he had it in good with a guy I wanted to trade with. Anyway, he got tired of me not havin’ a public waterworks with him. Started sayin’ I didn’t have a heart or some shit. Got up to leave the lecture when he pushed me. Knocked his ass out cold right then and there.” As amusing as it was to hear Joel give you a play-by-play highlight reel of his best “I beat somebody up in a bar once” hits, you’re lost on what you’re supposed to do with this information. You sit silently, waiting for him to speak again. Joel glances at you, sensing he isn’t doing a great job at explaining why this should matter to you. He shifts his body fully in your direction and clears his throat again. “Point is,” he continues. “The walk home had me thinkin’ about some of the stuff he said. Most of it complete bullshit, obviously, but he did say somethin’ that stuck with me and I didn’t figure out why for a long time.” He pauses, checking to see if he still has your attention. You nod your head up once as if to signal tell me what it was. “He kept sayin’ this one thing. ‘Grief isn’t linear.’ Musta said it a dozen times at least. Sounded so odd at the time. I think that’s what made it stick, initially.”

Joel rubs his hands together, either in thought or out of nervous habit at sharing private thoughts and memories. His eyes shift back to you.

“Sounded stupid, though. Well, did to me at first, at least. But at some point it made sense. Fit in with my life. Things I’ve been through–” he sucks in a deep breath, unsettled at what he’s about to say, perhaps “– people I’ve lost….”

His gaze drops from yours for a moment. You can tell this is difficult to talk about, even if he hasn’t said anything particularly revealing. Still, for him it was sharing more than was in his comfort zone.

“And, I know with.. Caroline,” he says with a hesitance, unsure if it might set you off, “How hard that must’ve been. Hell, I about lost my mind when I first came out this way lookin’ for Tommy. Got to a certain point I was scared he was gone forever. Had to fuckin’ lean against somethin’ just to catch my breath, I got so fuckin’ afraid of losin’ somebody else.”

You nod thoughtfully. It was comforting that Joel could understand how devastating it might be to lose your younger sibling, somebody you’re supposed to take care of and protect. Joel was lucky, though. He hadn’t lost Tommy.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, shoving your drying tears off your cheeks.

“You hafta,” Joel says, suddenly stern. Your eyes shoot back up to meet his. His palm settles against your thigh, hot and grounding. “If you don’t, it’s gonna eat you up alive."

For a fleeting second, you don’t think just giving up would be so bad. It would be easier, at least. As if he could read your thoughts, Joel interrupts your defeatist musings.

“And it ain’t easier to just bury it. Take it from a dumbass who knows,” he huffs with a humorless laugh. “You can let it make you as numb as it possibly can, and you can still feel every fuckin’ thing.”

You let the words sink into your brain.

Looking back, you really believed that you’d settled this heartbreak. You thought you’d walked that difficult tightrope of grief and made it to the other side, miraculously unscathed. But you weren’t being honest with yourself. The box of Caroline’s belongings, the few you’d taken from her dead body, sat sealed up in a closet upstairs. You’d crowded yourself into the smallest area possible in your home, protecting yourself from the haunting artifact of your greatest failure. Shoving the memory of your sister into a dark alcove, someplace you’d never have to even cross because you avoided those areas of your own house. Like a coward.

“It’s never gonna go away, is it?” you choke out in a hush. “M’not gonna lie to you, sweetheart, and tell you it vanishes one day. Doesn’t ever go away, but it can sure as hell get better.”

You hold back tears for the thousandth time today.

“What if you’re scared to go back?” you ask quietly, staring straight ahead again.

Joel pauses for a moment before leaning closer to you, his weight sinking his hand into the mattress underneath you.

“Can’t speak for everybody, but . . in my case . . having somebody to hold your hand along the way helps.”

His fingers twitch beside your leg, but he doesn’t move his hand. You slowly unfold your hands from your lap and slide one on top of Joel’s. You awkwardly grab at his fingers, holding his pinky and ring finger with all of yours. His thumb brushes against your palm.

Part of you wants to wrap yourself in his arms and let him shroud you in comfort. The other half of you wants to scream and run away.

“Ellie’s probably wondering where you are,” you point out.

“She knows where I am,” he answers calmly.

“You don’t need to get back home?” you ask, partly an actual question but mostly a plea from your escapee side for him to leave.

“Not right this minute, no,” he replies flatly, not acknowledging your silent request to be left to your own devices. “We’re gonna sit here for a little while, okay?” he says. His thumb is circling grounding energy into you. You give a weak nod and whisper, “Okay.”

He lays back down, straightening the blankets as he pulls you next to him underneath them. You circle your arm under his and cup your hand over his shoulder, pulling him closer. You hook a leg over his hip and tuck your head under his chin. Joel’s arms wrap you into him, and the small kneading motion on your back from before resumes.

You don’t care right now that you’re mad at him. You don’t care how angry and hurt he made you. You don’t care that there’s a million things you need to get off your chest and scream at him.

RIght now, you need him. You need this side of him. Not the harsh, spiteful Joel. The Joel that sweeps you up when you’re freefalling. The Joel that shelters you from your own mind when it gets the better of you. The Joel that stays with you every step of your harrowing trek. The Joel that makes you want to hold him close to you like this until the world stops spinning and the sun goes out.

He lets you sit in silence for what seems like hours, giving you the sanctuary and permission to navigate your wounds without interruption. The reemerging darkness didn’t feel like it was clawing its way forward anymore, and you knew it wouldn’t drag you under if Joel’s hand was in yours, ready to pull you up if you needed him to.

It had been several days since Joel had held you against him, safe and warm in your bed. The sleep had afforded you the ability to explain to Joel that you hadn’t formulated any plans to hurt yourself, how the herb mixture needed to be consumed with care but wasn’t anything that would seriously harm you, and how you were mostly just exhausted more than anything else. You skipped the detail where you felt a crippling sense of loneliness, but he’d probably already picked up on that anyway. Joel had a funny way of seeming to know just what you were thinking these days, what your reactions and reflections were. Like he had a cheat sheet of all your moves.

Your schedule had gotten off course with all the recent turmoil and missed days, and you were home before Ellie got out of school only to pick back up in the afternoon to catch up with odds and ends. Joel had taken to walking Ellie over to your house when she got out of school if he wasn’t on patrol or working at the site.

He didn’t attempt to invite himself in, and you felt unsure about asking him to join you for the short tea break. You didn’t know how to act around him, let alone with Ellie in the midst of it all. You wanted to keep a clear head where she was concerned. You’d done enough to unsettle her. She didn’t need any more of that nonsense.

When you heard a knock at the door, you didn’t think anything of it. You had two cups already out and ready to be filled for you and Ellie. When the door swung open to reveal Joel by himself, you were surprised.

“Is everything okay? Is Ellie okay? Where is she?” you ask, the octave of your voice climbing with each new question.

Joel smiled softly and held a hand up to put a stop to your fretting. “Relax. S’just me today. Wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright.”

Your shoulders relax when you hear that Ellie is okay. You nod and motion for Joel to come inside. His looming shape feels like an eclipse of comfort when he follows you closely on the way back to the kitchen. Your spine just about melts when his hand brushes against the small of your back as he crosses behind you at the counter.

“Made you a cup of tea, I guess,” you laugh gently. You slide the cup towards him, and you don’t miss the way his nose scrunches in distaste. “Or not,” you snort, lifting a brow in amusement.

“Nah, s’alright. I’ll have it. No need to waste it,” he mutters. He continues to give the cup a dubious look.

“You’re such a snob. And over hot bean water, no less,” you scoff with no real venom in your words.

“Guess I am,” he muses with a wry smile.

You clear your throat and take a sip of your tea. You jerk your head towards the table, and Joel follows you to sit. Your eyes open wider when he settles into the chair next to yours instead of across from you.

You take another sip of your tea and look at Joel’s mug expectantly. He shoots you a weary frown but raises it to his lips.

“Can’t believe people like this shit,” he grumbles with a scrunched mouth and brow.

You laugh under your breath and roll your eyes. “You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“Funny you should say that. Sorta what I came to talk to you about,” he admits.

“Joel, you already apologized,” you start. You wave a dismissive hand at him. “And you’ve done plenty to make up for it, okay? Let’s just drop it.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” he argues. His hand curves around yours where it hugs your mug. Your lips part at the simple but charged contact.

“I fucked up. I said some shit I had no business sayin’.”

You shake your head in quick jerks. “Joel, just drop it. We both know that even if you were an asshole about it, you weren’t exactly saying anything that wasn’t true. It’s not even–”

“Don’t matter what’s the truth if you’re just sayin’ somethin’ to hurt somebody,” he interrupts. “And I was. I was tryna hurt you. And when I did what I meant to do, it didn’t make me feel any better. Made me feel like shit that I treated you like that. Ellie woulda had me strung up if she knew half the shit I said to you.” He takes a deep breath and sits back in his chair.

“I let you down. Messed up a trust I hadn’t even fully earned yet. A trust I don’t deserve. I let Ellie down, too. She likes you. Looks up to you, I think.” He sniffs a laugh. “Don’t tell her I told ya that, though.”

You chew at your lip watching him speak with you in such a raw way. There’s none of that gruff, volatile Joel here in front of you.

“I kept rackin’ my brain, tryna think of how I could make you understand how sorry I am,” he says, turning his head to look at you.

Had he always had such big, brown eyes? Were they always so wide open and warm? You feel yourself instinctively leaning towards him as he speaks.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I mean that. I meant it when I said it before, too. But I’m also tryna come up with my own ways to show you I mean it, that I ... care about you,” he finishes quietly.

You slowly nod, taking in all this raw expression from him.

“And, uh, I do have somethin’ I was thinkin’ about. I’m sure you know about the trip some of the patrol groups are makin’ out to Teton in the next coupla days.”

You nod. You’re aware of the scouting trip a small patrol group was preparing to go on. Heading to Teton to further assess supply chains and resources. Tommy was heading it up.

“Tommy usually goes on those types of things, but he’d just be a distracted ball of nerves bein’ away from Maria right now. It’s a few days, but it’s still far enough that he’d be a mess. No sense in sendin’ him if he’s gonna be like that. I need to do somethin’ to get Maria to warm up to me a bit more, anyway,” he chuckles darkly.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Sister-in-law still not a fan of you, huh?”

He rubs one of his eyes wearily and shrugs. “Somethin’ like that.”

“So, what? I’m stop number two on your kiss and makeup tour today then?” you deadpan.

Joel’s eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes so quickly you almost missed it. “Mmm, not exactly.”

“I mean… what would I even be doing? Doesn’t sound like much of a favor to be honest,” you point out.

“She’s stayin’ with Tommy, but it would make me feel a hell of a lot better knowin’ you were checkin’ in on her, too.”

Joel’s gaze was fixed on you, looking for any sort of change in your expression. His mug of tea sat forgotten as he turned to face you and rest his arm on the back of your chair and his other hand on your thigh.

“You sure you aren’t worried about me being alone with Ellie? Not scared I’m going to have some breakdown again or something?” you huff in a humorless laugh. You drop your gaze. You felt ashamed for putting Ellie through all your personal bullshit. “Can’t imagine seeing how I’ve been lately would make you believe I’m the person to trust with her.”

“Hey,” he says softly, cupping a hand against your cheek and turning your face to look at him. “You’re good for Ellie. You’re good for–good for both of us.”

“You mean that?” you whisper.

Joel nods. “I do. I really do.”

Your hands leave your mug in a flash and cradle Joel’s face as you crash your lips onto his. He drags you effortlessly from the seat of your chair, and you clamber onto his lap. His mouth and hands are everywhere on you. He groans into your mouth when your hands start to travel across his body. Now that his lips and tongue meld together with your own, you aren’t quite sure why you haven’t already done this. This was so much easier than trying to find the right words to say or figure out the right way to express things.

“Fuck, why’d it take us so long to do this?” he pants against your mouth.

You laugh softly in agreement and drag his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t know. Maybe we’re both just a pair of idiots,” you laugh.

“I know you sure as hell make my brain go fuckin’ stupid the second you’re around me,” he scoffs without any real indignation behind the words.

You pull back to look at him. His eyes soften when they find yours.

“I mean it,” he urges quietly. “I’ve been so stupid. Said stupid shit. Done stupid shit. None of it what you deserved.”

You silently nod in agreement. You hadn’t deserved any of the cruelty Joel had subjected you to. You hadn’t been feeling very hopeful that it was something he would ever recognize or acknowledge. The fact that he was now doing both make your heart do something very dangerous: hope.

“Can we stop buttin’ heads? And can you let me show you how I wish I’d acted in the first place?” he pleads with a tender conviction.

“Only if you act, like, really pathetically sorry. Over the top remorse or I’m out,” you deadpan.

“Won’t hafta put on much of an act,” he mumbles. “Been a complete asshole.”

You hold his face between your hands again and offer a soft smile. “Let’s just call it a truce, alright? I’ll try to keep my assessments to a minimum, and you…”

“Can stop bein’ such a combative killjoy?” he suggests with a sheepish grin.

“Deal,” you breathe out a laugh.

You finish your tea in comfortable silence as you watch Joel eye his mug with distaste. Your heart flutters when he takes the used mugs to the sink and rinses them out for you. The simple act of domesticity, in your own home, felt right. The butterflies swarm in your stomach when he takes your hand in his while you walk him to your door.

You pause before reaching for the handle. He pulls you into his middle, wrapping his arms around you. Relief washes over you.

“Take care of Ellie while I’m gone. And take care of yourself, too.”

You nodded against his chest. “I will.”

“Because when I get back, I’m checkin’ on the both of you.”

“Okay,” you smile.

Joel ghosted a smattering of kisses across your forehead. His beard scratches and tickles the skin there. You nervously giggle and press your face into him. His palm covered a large expanse of your back where he rubbed calming circles, only stopping to run his fingers through the patch of strands that had come loose from your braid.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Be good for me, yeah?”

“Okay,” you reply. You try to ignore the building heat between your legs at his words.

“Need some more of this before I go, though,” he says as he dips down to bring his lips against yours.

He kisses you slower this time, more exacting in his discovery of this part of you he now has access to. When you both draw back to catch your breath, the image of your face lit up with giddy titillation is the memento he tucks away in his mind to conjure and treasure whenever he must be apart from you.

Thank you all for being so patient for this update! I had to rework several chapters after I decided to make a change to a certain part of the story, but we are back on track now.

Some random thoughts about this chapter: • This chapter sheds some light on why Joel's "lumberjack assassin" line a few chapters back didn't get a great reception. • It also gives us a little insight as to how the pair of them are more similar than they yet understand. They both did terrible things to survive, and in the name of protecting their younger sibling. Two sides of the same coin.

catch ya later, Puddles

#fic: endless night #enni #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller hbo

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