#DadDec no. 7

[zrisewrites]

Clouds - A Katrina Short Story

Summary: Kat spirals into a panic attack after a nightmare. And everything keeps spiraling into pain…

This is told in Kat’s POV. Inspired by the @hurtcember , @whumpcember , and @daddecember events! (I compiled several days into this prompt, so I could catch up lol)

Word Count: ~2k

Content Warnings: Panic Attack, mention of nightmare, blood, knives, scars, needles, mentions of stabbing

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

None of it—is—real. The dream isn’t real. The nightmare isn’t real. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine—

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Images flash through my mind’s eye. The knife, pulling against my skin. My blood dripping down the blade, as pain ripples through my arms. The needle, poking into my skin. Icy blue seeping up my veins. Pain ripping through my mind next. Darkness and light, in scattering, searing, stabbing blades, and her laugh, and my screams—the screams—echoing through the caverns of my mind’s eye—

My chest is too tight—

I open my eyes, rolling onto my stomach, panting into the crook of my elbow.

I have to be okay—I’m not there—this is stupid—it’s been months, I shouldn’t—have—to deal with this anymore—

My nails are digging into my skin.

The pain is helping.

The pain hurts—

I suck in another ragged breath, but nothing comes.

My chest is too tight—

The dirt on the ground is too close to me. It’s digging into my skin. It’s on my clothes. I can’t—

The dirt will stick. They’ll track me with it. They’ll track me back here, and then they’ll take me again, and they’ll cut me and use the needles and pain and light and pain—

I let out a weak gasp, my eyes fluttering shut again.

Breathe—

Flashes of pain again—

Breathe—

I can’t keep laying on my stomach. The dirt’s still tracking all over me. Prickling up my skin, seeping into my scars, marking me—

I flop onto my back, arm pressed into my mouth.

Pain is rippling up my scars.

I don’t know what to do with the pain anymore.

Everything is pain. The light of the stars, searing into my eyes. The press of the dirt against my other arm, the one of the ground, the one with the pain and the trackable dirt seeping into my scars. My hair is too itchy, too thick, too there, and it hurts. My head hurts. I can’t breathe. My chest hurts. The scars hurt, but the scars always hurt. My arm hurts, and my teeth taste like iron. I don’t like iron. Iron is knives and blood and pain and needles and scars and light and sharp and hurts—

My ears hurt.

The ground is shaking.

The ground is echoing.

Someone is touching me—

I let out a ragged breath, rolling to the side, fumbling for the knife in my sleeve with the arm covered in dirt. My other arm hurts. I cast it a glare. It’s covered in blue scars. And something new—teeth marks, dripping blood, tasting like iron, covered in dirt and it hurts—

Kat?

I flinch at the echo of my name, shoving my hair out of my face with the arm of iron, rolling to my knees and brandishing my brand. My blade. I don’t have a brand. They won’t catch me—

It’s a girl, with white hair, and black clothes, and wide eyes, and her lips are moving but I can’t hear her. Her hands are outstretched and she must want to catch me, but I will not be caught. Not again.

I stumble back.

My chest is iron.

I scramble for breath.

They’ll catch me if I can’t breathe.

I can’t run if I can’t breathe.

My knife is slipping from my hands. I scramble to catch it, and my fingers close around the blade.

There is crimson pain spilling from my fingers.

My head hurts.

I cannot breathe.

I let out a soft groan, staring at the crimson, painting riveting stains across the blue scars and the pale lines of my skin.

Everything I hate in one perfect picture.

Blood, my scars, me, and the knife that did it all.

I sink to my knees, cradling my hands to my chest.

Why does it all still hurt?

I still don’t know what to do with all this pain.

I don’t know what to do as this pain spreads. I don’t know what to do, as my hand is pulsing uncomfortable heat, and my arm is going numb.

It was always numb before the worst of the pain.

I never could really breathe.

The darkness starts to seep across my eyelids. So I let it, as pain thrums through my chest. Because at least the darkness shields me from the pain.

I dream of soft clouds. I dream of warm clouds. I dream of blue skies, and wisps of chocolate drifting through the sunrise. I dream of life unbothered. I dream of dreams, and I dream of happiness.

And I cry because it’s only a dream. Because I will have to wake up and go back to that door creaking open, with endless waters and crimson pain and her laughs.

I want to go back to the soft clouds.

Kat?

I really don’t wanna go back to the crimson. It’s so much nicer here. So warm. Nothing’s ever warm when I’m awake. They keep the room as cold as ice. Only my wrists are warm, hanging from the chains, because I’ve rubbed them raw. They don’t go numb anymore. It’s really a shame.

Kat, wake up. You have to get up.

I really don’t want to.

You’d understand if you had wrists rubbed raw. At least have some sympathy. No one ever did. They were always just numb too.

Kat!

Light flickers through my vision. I drag my eyes open, because I know they’ll dump icy pain all over me if I don’t, and I’d much rather get this over with and go back to my clouds.

A figure hovers in front of me. A girl, with white hair, holding something.

Great. They must’ve caught me again.

Maybe they’ll just let me go back to my clouds soon. That’d be nice.

There’s something around me, and it feels like clouds. It’s warm. Somewhat—stifling. I can’t figure out if I like it or not.

I glance down. My arm is covered in stiff white. My hand is covered in stiff white. My clothes are covered in crimson. There’s two arms wrapped around me, and they’re covered in black sleeves and crimson too.

There’s still dirt on the ground.

I twist against the arms, frowning. “I won’t do anything. I just wanna go back to my clouds, I swear.” I murmur.

“Kat, relax. Breathe. Listen to me, okay?” Someone behind me. The arms around me, I think. The steady warmth behind me hums as they speak, so I have to assume it’s that. Right?

“Can she hear us?” The girl in front of me. I can hear her now, though her voice is so feather light and airy. It doesn’t match her crimson lips, and crimson lined eyes.

“Maybe. She’ll come around.” The someone behind me. The warm rumbles again.

The girl’s lips press together, before she glances at me, holding up the something in her hands. A gold little square.

My heart skips a beat in my chest.

Because I know this square is something important, it has to be.

Did they want me to do something with it? If I did that, would they let me go back to sleep?

“It’s pretty.” I murmur, as my eyes slip shut again.

Someone shakes me, hard, and I gasp, jerking up.

“Stay awake, Kat. Come on. Do you remember us?”

Remember what?

“It’s me…. Vic.” The arms say. “And the girl in front of you is Nala. We’re your family. We’re here to help you.””

Family.

I thought I left them a long time ago.

I though they abandoned me.

I thought I found some, and then I got caught.

I thought they saved me, and made me happy again.

I thought about the crimson, and the fact that my chest was getting tight again.

Something pressed against my hand, the one not wrapped in stiff white. I jump, staring at the thing. The pretty. The golden square. It’s warm, and a little soft, and something about it makes my heart pound a little slower.

“You remember, Kat?” The voice behind me murmurs. Vic. Maybe. Right?

Someone unwraps the pretty square, and inside is a dark brown square.

Not as pretty, but very interesting.

They pluck the square from my hand, holding it up to my mouth. I hesitate, then obediently open my mouth, so they don’t stab me or something for disobeying.

Instantly, soft sweetness blooms across my tongue. Familiar and rich. Bitter and sweet. Silky smooth—

I press the square against the roof of my tongue, and it breaks in half, seeping, sweet caramel spilling over my teeth.

“Chocolate.” I breath, sinking back into the warmth behind me.

“There we go.” The voice behind me—Vic. Steady, comforting Vic. Who saved me.

I close my eyes, my heart slowing into a steady pulse as I focus on the silky sweetness. My chest loosens as I focus on the sharp bitterness. My mind quiets as I focus on digging the threads of caramel from my teeth.

“Kat? Are you okay?” The girl whispers. Nala. I remember that now. She saved me too. Many, many times.

“I’m sorry.” I breathe, my eyes flickering open to look at her. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, an uneasy smile tugging at her lips. “No, no… we just wanted to make sure you were alright…”

“Just take a nice deep breath for me, okay?” Vic whispers against my back. I nod, sucking in a slow, deep breath. It stutters and breaks halfway, coming out in a hurried rush. But I can breathe again.

My chest doesn’t hurt anymore. Nothing does. It’s just smooth, humming numbness. Besides the stinging of my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “I’m sorry I scared you guys.”

I must have. There was crimson everywhere—

“It’s okay. Just breathe. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve got you.” Vic soothes.

I suck in another breath. It breaks again, as I hiccup. My chest crumbles.

“I thought I was getting better, Why did it still hurt?” I murmur.

My chest is burning, like the hot trails running down my cheeks.

It tastes like salt.

Not iron, at least.

They might have, at some point—

“It takes time, but you are getting better. So much better, Kat. Breathe again for me.”

I hiccup, sucking in another breath, then letting it out in one shaky whoosh.

“Good. You’re doing good.”

“It takes time for everyone. I have days like this too.” Nala whispers, reaching out for my hand. My skin prickles, but I let her hold my hand. I think I usually do. Because she’s gentle, and nice. She doesn’t feed me pain.

“What’s important,” She continues, “Is making sure you don’t do this alone. Just find one of us, and we’ll help you. Okay?”

Vic pressed another golden square into my palm. I relax, sucking in a slow breath as I peel it open, then exhaling as I pop the silky sweet into my mouth. “Okay. I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” I whisper.

She smiles, squeezing my hand. I relax, focusing on the chocolate, as my heart beat calms, and my chest slips into an easy rhythm, and I relax into the clouds.