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dragonwitch77 · 6 years ago

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Don’t Starve Sick: Willow

(Warning: Description of injury, blood, and death are in this story)

There were mostly five basic things Willow knew about this world.

One, she loved fire. Hard not to when it was so warm and pretty.

Two, she was pretty sure she wasn’t on Earth anymore. Wherever she was now, she knew it wasn’t safe or a moment to relax when everything here was trying to kill you.

Three, she was lucky to still know the basics of all her girl scouts training. It really helped with her survival so far. Today was the… 20, 25ish day she was suck her? Maybe? It was hard to keep track of the days here sometime.

Four, when she finds that tall guy in a suit, he was going to wish he never met her.

Five, there was a man with a weird hairdo caught in one of her traps.

No, really. When Willow went out to forage for food, she went to check up on one of her newer traps for the stupid Gobblers. It was a simple rope on the ground covered in leaves, the type of trap that caught around animals’ feet and hung them up in the air.

But to her great disappointment (and shock) it wasn’t her intended meal that was caught in the trap. No, it was a man with the craziest hairdo she had ever seen hung upside down by one foot caught in the rope.

He looked to be older than her, but also looked rather scrawny. She could easily take him down with her spear, but the odd look he was giving her made her hesitant to do any sort of harm to him. His eyes were wide, had been when he saw her and hadn’t said a single word was she came close enough that their noses almost touched.

“You’re not food.” Willow grumbled, poking the man with her stick.

He continued to stare at her, mouth open in agape. If she was in a better mood, she would have found his face quite comedic. “Y-You’re a human.” He stammered. His voice sounded scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in a long time.

“Uh, yeah. And you just ruined a perfectly good trap.” Willow flicked his nose. “I spent hours making this thing! Do you have any idea how much work and resources I had to put in it?”

The man rubbed his nose, glaring at her somewhat. “Well forgive me for not foreseeing such trap earlier. I wasn’t really watching where I was going in search for food.” His glare eased away, looking more in wonder and mixed belief as he continued to stare at her. “… You… are real… right?” He asked, sounded in almost disbelief and hopeful pleading. “You’re not some… cruel joke being played on me… right?

Yikes. This guy sounded desperate. “Yes, I’m real.” She gave his arm a small pinch, just to emphasize her point. (And a little payback for ruining her trap.)

She had never seen such a happy (or dorky) smile before.

The guy’s name was Wilson Percival Higgsbury. (A fitting odd name for an odd guy.) And he was a scientist.

“You’re not going to use me for any crazy experiments are you?”

“What? No! No most certainly not! I’m not that type of scientist Miss Willow, I can assure you that I never plan to ever put anyone in harm’s way of my work. That would be cruel and very rude.” Wilson reassured her (though she wasn’t really feeling too reassured at the moment) as he took out some meat in what looked to be a small metal box.

“Uh huh. So.” She glanced around. “How�� long have you been here exactly?”

Wilson paused in whatever task he was doing, looking at the sky a moment before scratching his beard (Willow really wanted to burn it for some reason) and shrugged. “I honestly don’t remember anymore. I lost count after… 3, no, day number 427.”

Willow’s jaw almost dropped in shock. “F-FOUR HUNDRED DAYS?! No wonder you look like a hobo!”

Wilson gave her perplexed look. He looked down at himself, frowning deeply. “Yes, well… I, do suppose I look a little… vagrant.”

“And filthy.”

“Yes and a little fill—”

“And smelly.”

“Yes you made the po—”

“And a little insa—”

“Would you like something to eat Miss Willow? How about some honey ham? It’s quite delicious!” Wilson cut her off, smiling though Willow could see he was straining to keep it in a smile.

Not wanting to push her luck with her new friend (and a little hungry) Willow agreed.

Days went by after Willow met Wilson and she had to admit, she liked his company. He was a little strange and weird at times but he was an alright guy. He even didn’t mind that she liked to set things on fire! (Just as long as it wasn’t anywhere near the campsite or any of the supplies.)

There were times when she really questioned her new friend’s stable mentality at times however.

For one, Wilson was a scientist, so of course his curiosity tended to get the better of him at the worst possible times in the worst situations. It was usually ended with Willow dragging him away from said danger by the ear. (Figuratively and literally.)

Another problem Wilson had was his crazy experiments that usually ended being a flop or exploding in his face. (Which made his hair even crazier.) Day in until nightfall, Wilson would tinker away on any new project, spending long hours doing whatever it was he came up with now and lose all focus of the world around him in a small corner away from the camp. (Willow had tested how far she could mess with his hair before he noticed. He never did till it was too late.)

Still, he was a nice guy to hang out with when he wasn’t busy with his new projects. Having more experience in this dangerous place, he taught her the workings and the dangers of this world. She in turn taught him how to cook. (It wasn’t because his cooking was that bad… much.)

Plus the extra hands helped in foraging for food. So at least they didn’t go hungry for a while.

But then came the dreaded WINTER.

And that’s when things started to go downhill.

Willow HATED winter. It was always so cold and wet and things didn’t burn as easily as they did in the spring or summer or fall. It was all wet and cold, and slushy, and cold, and there was this blasted Deerclops (which she still didn’t understand and hated), and it felt like icicles were growing in her hair, and her light could barely provide any warmth and IT WAS BLOODY COLD OUT!

“Willow! Stop adding the logs to the fire! It’s already high enough as it is right now and you’re wasting fuel!”

“You don’t understand Wilson! It’s bloody cold out and I’m freezing my fingers off over here! Look! They’re already turning blue!” She held out one of her hands out to Wilson, who took it and examined it.

“You’re fine Willow. You’re fingers aren’t turning blue. But be sure to let me know if they are, that could be a bad sign.”

Willow huffed, huddling deeper into the fur vest that was more like a coat. (It was like swimming in warm fur.) It helped against the cold but she still felt the winter biting at her from all around. And she HATED IT.

“Listen, I’m going to check up on the rabbit traps. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Willow looked up at the sky, frowning. The sky was already starting to get dark. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s starting to get dark out.”

“Better now than tomorrow. Those traps were out of date late I checked, and anything could escape from them if they’re left alone for too long.” Wilson took out a spear from his chest, tapping the stone end. It looked dull and ready to break in Willow’s eyes. She wanted to tell him to use her spear, or wait till the first rays of light so that he wouldn’t worry about the night monster, but Wilson had left with a small smile and a wave of his hand.

That was hours ago. The sun had set. And Wilson still hadn’t returned.

If Willow hadn’t been worried before, she was now. The rabbit holes weren’t that far away. He should have been back by now.

“He’s fine. He’s fine. He lived here far longer than you have. He knows how to take care of himself. He’ll be back soon. I’m sure he’s fine…” For some reason, she took a small glance behind herself, gazing at the wooden doll that stood next to Wilson’s tent.

Grabbing her spear and flicking on her lighter, Willow ran off looking for Wilson. It took far longer for her to find the rabbit holes in the darkness, but she managed to find them. And footprints. Relief flooded inside her once she saw the tracks. Tracks around the rabbit holes meant Wilson made it here. That he was alive around here somewhere.

“Wilson?! Hey! Brainiack! Where are you?!” The area was still. Only the cold winds talked back to her. There was no scientist in sight. Willow’s heart began to pick up. “Wilson! Wilson where are you?!”

Silence only greeted her.

Gulping down her nerves, Willow tried to stay calm and think. Wilson had defiantly been here. He left behind tracks in the snow.

She glanced down again. So, follow the tracks, find the scientist. Should be simple enough.

“It’s a good thing it snowed the other night.” Willow muttered, following the tracks that went to each rabbit hole. She kept noticing the lack of traps with a few of the holes. At least we’ll have something to eat. She thought before stopping dead cold in place.

Wilson’s tracks had been closely placed together, one foot out in front of the other in a steady pattern of a slow easy collecting walk. But here. Here it looked like Wilson had stopped, stumbled, and took off in a sprint. But that wasn’t what worried Willow.

It was the many tracks of paw prints that did.

Wilson was not having a good day. Not a good day at all.

It should have been a simple task. Gather up any rabbits caught in the traps and head back to camp. It should have been that simple. But no. Ooooh no. Maxwell seemed to deem it a too easy of a task for dear old Wilson. Not suffering enough in his eyes.

Blue Hounds.

It had to be bloody Blue Hounds.

If he didn’t have to worry so much as to keep his light from going out, he could try to deal with the hounds. He had a Meat Effigy set up back at camp just in case he died. (Though Willow wouldn’t be too pleased to see him using it if he did die. The first scare was enough for her, and she still hadn’t forgiven him for not explaining about his little secret to cheat death earlier.)

But that would be a waste. Effigies were hard to make and required beard hair to make it. He had the beard, but he still needed it to use against the cold. (And beards didn’t grow back once you go through death and revive through the Meat Effigy.)

Wilson slipped, almost landing face first in the snow had he not caught himself and continued running for his life. A small scream jumped out of his mouth as one of the Blue Hounds barely managed to sink their jaws into his foot. It was then that Wilson soon realized that the hounds were gaining on him.

Fast.

Kicking it into high gear, Wilson ran as fast as his legs could carry him as his heart pounded against his chest. If he could just get to a forest and set a tree on fire, he could use the light as an advantage and fight back. The sight of a tree rushing past him gave him some hope.

And then one of the bloody Blue Hound’s lunged and bit deep into his leg.

Pain was nothing new to Wilson at this point. But it still hurt.

A yell tore out from him as he collapsed to the ground, and screamed out again when another hound quickly pounced and bit into his arm. He spotted one of the other hounds making a lunge for his other arm, but managed to hit it away in time with his torch and set it on fire as well. He did not have enough time to watch the beast suffer as another hound bit into his soft torso and started a tug-o-war with the other two that held his trapped limbs.

Copper. He could taste copper in his mouth.

Blood spilled out from his mouth as the damn dogs kept tearing away at him. Try as he might to hit the hounds off him, Wilson could feel his strength leaving him every second. It didn’t help when the other Blue Hound came back and chomped down on his other leg.

The hounds kept tearing into him, blood was dying the white snow crimson.

‘Dying.’

Heh.

That was exactly what was going to happen to him soon. He could already feel the edges of his vision start to darken and the cold feeling of death coming upon him. It was never fun to die. Never. Death always hurt whether by starvation, freezing to death, being stomped on by giants, or being torn apart by bloody hounds from any season. It was never fun, nor would he ever get used to it.

He knew he would have to apologize to Willow when he woke up in the Effigy. The poor girl never experienced death (and he hoped that she never would) and he wanted to make her understand so that she wouldn’t be too angry with him when he came back and not punch him in the eye or yell at him for hours on end. He could practically hear her screaming right now.

Almost like she was screaming something he couldn’t make out so close to him…

Like she was right there…

Wilson’s body screamed with agony as the hounds dropped him. The blood loss was making it hard for his brain to focus on anything and the ringing in his ears muffled the sound around him.

All he could really feel was the cold seeping into his body, soothing away his pain with a promise of relief if he just closed his eyes.

He wanted to give in, to let it take him, even for a brief moment to escape the pain. But something started to shake his shoulder, pulling him away from the escape. He was rolled over on his back, hissing as the pain came back anew.

Something touched his cheek, prompting the scientist to open his eyes.

His vision was still blurry, but he could make out a familiar silhouette before things went dark.

Too slow.

She had been too slow.

She didn’t react fast enough when she realized Wilson was in danger. She just stood there like an idiot till her brain finally got her legs working again and she took off, following the tracks, hoping that she would find Wilson unharmed or at least escaped the hounds.

And then she heard the yell of pain.

Too slow.

When she finally caught up, she screamed when she saw the hounds holding Wilson in their jaws, tearing away his flesh and exposing bone. She blacked out for a bit, so she didn’t recall what happened next until she was standing over the last hound burning away like the garbage she used to set on fire for warmth on cold nights. All four hounds were dead, burned to a black crisp.

The smell of burnt flesh and hound fur almost made her gag, but she ignored it. Her focus turned to Wilson. Tears were building up in her eyes as she run over to him and kneeled down, shaking his shoulder and trying not to look at the gruesome wounds and the blood covering her hands. He hissed in pain as she turned him over on his back. His face was pale against her hand (ignoring the blood that covered her fingers).

Too slow.

“Wilson?” Her voice shook, hoping beyond hope that he was still responsive. His eyes fluttered open (unfocused, not really staring right at her like he did when they first met) and closed again all too soon. “Hey. Hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes!” She shook him again, desperate for him to give her any sign of life. “Wilson! Wilson!”

Too slow.

She kept calling out his name for what felt like forever, but it was only until the last burning corpse of a hound went out and darkness engulfed them both. The loss of sight made her quickly realizes the danger she and Wilson were in now. Taking out her lighter again and flicking it on, she nearly screamed again when she looked down at Wilson.

He was so pale, blood was pouring out his mouth and into his beard. His vest was torn and she could see the large bite mark on his stomach. Bones were poking out of his limbs where they were torn open, bleeding profoundly. If it wasn’t for the shallow puffs of air still coming out of his nose and mouth, Willow would have thought that he was already dead.

“Hang on Wil.” Willow mumbled, moving Wilson on his side, looping his (only) uninjured arm over her shoulder and hefted him up. For looking so skin and weak, Wilson was much heavier then he looked. “Camp shouldn’t be that far away. W-We’ll get you patched up, okay?” She tried to keep the shakiness out of her voice as she leaned Wilson against her, starting their slow trip back to camp.

She kept talking, hoping that Wilson would hear her and wake up, or make some indication that he was responding to her voice.

But he never did.

“We’re almost there Wil. We’re nearing the campfire and—” There was a sudden burst of smoke and the weight leaning against her was gone.

She didn’t dare look. She didn’t dare to look and see what she dreaded come true.

“OOoooOOoh?”

Willow, braving herself, looked up at the ghost floating beside her.

Had she not seen the familiar hair-like style on top of its ghost head and the dark circles around their eyes, Willow would have probably screamed and tried to burn them (like she tried to when she first saw Wilson’s ghost), but she could only stare at them with a blank look, her lighter’s light paled to the ghostly glow Wilson’s spirit gave off.

“OoooOOooooh…” Wilson was giving her a sad look. The same look he gave her when he understood that he messed up somehow.

“It’s… fine Wilson.” Willow rubbed one of her eyes, sighing while shaking her head. “Just… go ahead and get in the Effigy already. I’ll…” She looked down at the pile of bones next to her surrounded by all the items Wilson had on him. Most being rabbit meat. “I’ll start… picking up some of your stuff.”

The ghost stared at her a moment before shaking its head in a nod and disappeared. Willow stood there staring at the bones before the cracking of wood helped her start picking things up.

Too late.

Willow should be mad at him.

That was what Wilson assumed she should feel towards him once he came back to life.

She should be yelling at him for being so stupid for going out there on his own and getting attacked by hounds.

She should be screaming at him for dying on her when they were so close to the camp where all the medical supplies were stored away in his chest.

She should be threatening to pack up and split from here and leave him all by himself as a rightful punishment for his actions that night and for what he put her through.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t yell at him when he came back from the dead. She didn’t scream at him when came to help her gather up the stuff he dropped. She didn’t threaten to leave as they both silently went back to the camp and stored up what little meat Wilson managed to gather from the traps.

She was just… empty.

She couldn’t look Wilson in the eye when he tried to talk to her, nor did she utter a single word to him when he apologized multiple times to her and promising to be more careful next time. She just… didn’t do anything.

All she did was stare into the fire with a blank look.

She had been doing so for over the past couple of days after the hound incident. She just kept sitting on the log staring into the fire, occasionally adding wood when it was getting low, and maybe pop a berry in her mouth.

On and off Wilson tried to get her attention or give her something to eat, but she hadn’t been responsive to him as he hoped. It was honestly scaring the poor scientist more than anything that the bloody place had thrown at him.

He just couldn’t understand it. What had turned such bright person to this in such a way?

He didn’t know. And he hated it when he couldn’t understand things! It drove him insane!

“Willow?” He sat down next to her, trying to find anything that would give him hope that she was listening to him. She didn’t. “Willow, please say something. It’s been nine days since the… ‘incident’, and you’re really worrying me.” He rubbed his hands together, a worrying action he did when he was really nervous. “I’m sorry for what I put you through. It was unexpected and it was wrong of me to go out on my own in such dangerous situation.”

She still didn’t move, or give anything to show that she was listening to him.

Wilson sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Willow… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I put you through, and what you saw, and for what happened I… I was really being a fool. I was trying to make sure that we both survived through this winter without an incidents of death.” He paused a moment. “But I guess I really failed at that. I… I wasn’t thinking when I went out that night. Thinking of our survival, yes. But in the best way? No. I was rushing head long into a mistake that I should have seen coming. I just didn’t think clearly enough on my actions and what they would cost.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilson spied Willow shaking a bit. Out of cold or emotion, he didn’t know, but he smiled inwardly as this was the first sign of movement he’s seen from her.

“You see, it’s been a long while since I’ve been around other people before being stuck here, and even more so since having been stuck here before I met you. I used to only care for my own survival to make it through the night to the next day. Though, there were times when I still didn’t think well enough through with my actions and… they weren’t the best.”

No. No they were not. He could still recall the times of hunger, burning to death, monsters ripping him to shreds, and even forgetting to watch the fuel for his light on his first few days trapped here.

“But I guess I never took in to account of how you would react to this place and its strange properties. Or how death works here. It should have been the first thing I should have explained to you when we first met. But the joy of finding another human being clouded that judgment as well. It still doesn’t excuse me for what I’ve done and… Willow?”

Wilson stopped talking, taking full notice of Willow’s shaking body. Gradually, her shakes worsened as her body shook with no end. Her breathing came out in puffs and small coughs.

Alarms blared in Wilson’s head and he quickly moved in front of her. “Willow?!” He grabbed her shoulders, trying to stop her shakiness. “Willow what’s wrong?!”

Willow stared at him a moment before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and pitched backwards.

“WILLOW!”

In all his years, Wilson was never so happy to have medical knowledge before.

Having done countless experiments that tended to backfire badly (and incidents as a small child that he would never go into detail about with anyone), Wilson was very capable of treating many wounds and sicknesses over the years on his own. (He really needed to thank his mother once he got back home.)

Though he ridiculed himself for not seeing Willow in such bad state before. Although he could partly blame the vest for hiding the reason for Willow’s current state.

Gash marks. Two of them on her lower back.

Thankfully they weren’t deep enough to require stitching, though Wilson was concerned about the blood loss and puffy red skin around the wound. Cleaning the wound was first priority before he could do anything to help Willow. Thankfully that was still plenty of ice left the ice box. Melting it down and boiling it to rid of any bacteria was simple enough, but he really wished he had some cleaner marital of cloth to use to clean the wound with. One of his sleeves will have to do for now (even if it wasn’t what Wilson would prefer to use).

Once the wounds was clean, he quickly applied some healing salve, making sure it covered the entire wounds before nodding with satisfaction. Now came the hard part.

Waiting.

Wilson hated waiting. There was nothing to do when he waited. Keeping Willow’s temperature down with a wet cloth was easy thing to check up on once in a while, but all Wilson could do was wait outside her tent and hope for the best.

He had never gotten sick before when he came to this place. Not once. He had always been in good health. Not even a little cold. He had wondered if this place had some effects on the human immunogenic system, but now he could clearly see that was not the case. Though he didn’t understand how Willow was the one who was sick and not him. He had many chances to be sick. Open wounds, stuck in the rain, hound bites, mosquito bites, and all other unhygienic things that would surely gotten him sick.

Must be another Maxwell trick then. Making sure he was healthy enough to suffer.

Typical.

It was around day five that Willow finally woke up.

Groggy and grumpy, but awake.

Wilson was so happy to see her awake that first thing he did when he saw that she was awake was hug her… and then got punched right in the eye.

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite fine Willow. I most likely deserved it.” Wilson waved off her apology with a smile. “I’m just glad to see you’re awake. I was almost worried that you die on me.”

Willow cringed, turning her gaze away from Wilson (or more accurately the ice he was pressing against his black eye) and looked at the fire. Wilson was worried that she would go back to that blank state when Willow spoke again. “Why?”

“… Why what?”

“Why couldn’t you have hold out a little longer? Why didn’t you… why didn’t you make it to the camp?”

Wilson blinked, lowering the ice to look at Willow questionably. “I’m… sorry. I don’t quite unders—”

“The night of the attack.” Willow turn her eyes back on him, looking at him fiercely. “The night you stupidly went out and got attack! The night that you…” Her ember eyes slowly lost their fire. “… The night you died.”

“Ah. That.” Wilson nodded his head, pressing the ice back on his eye. “I honestly wished that I didn’t die that night Willow. Though with the injuries that I had sustained, I doubt that I would have made it to the camp alive.” He looked to the side, dropping his voice. “And I doubt that I would have even lived long even if you did manage to get me back to the camp.”

“But. But we have healing salve! And other stuff that could’ve—”

“I had internal bleeding, four broken ribs, punctures in the stomach, a clear split in my ulna and radius, and a shattered tibia.” Wilson lower the ice, looking at Willow’s shocked face. “I’m surprised that I even lived to the outskirts of the camp before succumbing to the wounds.”

Willow stared at him for at least a minute, opening and closing her mouth. “… h… How did you…?”

“My skeleton.” Wilson pointed to where the skeleton was. Though Willow couldn’t see it anywhere when she looked. “I did a quick examination of it before disposing of it. I… it was sort of habit for me back then.” He looked sheepishly at the ground, kicking a bit of snow away. “Anyway, even with medical supplies at hand, I wouldn’t have survived the ordeal with the damage my body had to it. It wouldn’t have mattered in the end and it would have wasted resources.”

Willow looked at the ground. “… I still would have tried to save you… I’m still not used to the idea of death being normal here…”

Wilson glanced at her. “… Yes well. Thank you for trying. It was… a nice gesture none the less.”

She looked back up at him, smiling softly.

… And then punched him very hard in the arm.

“OW! What in the name of science was that for?!”

“For being an idiotic genius, you lovable dork!”

#don't starve #Wilson P. Higgsbury #willow #don't starve wilson #don't starve willow #sick fic #...kinda #death #blood #hound attack #blue hound #ghosts

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briannaprisca-blog · 6 years ago

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Young God Chapter One

(Heath Ledger Joker x OC) (Will not follow the Dark Knight movie at all)

Eh EH EH EH EH EH

My alarm blared into my ears as I tried opening my crusted over eyes.

I never woke up with a beautiful head of hair or eyes that were a brilliant blue.

It was never like the movies and after smacking my alarm as hard as I could, I glanced at the mirror beside my bed to see that yep, I was right.

The sun was barely awake, but you could see it waking up, trying to beam through the buildings and my curtains annoyingly enough.

“Okay, jog with Angela, come back to write that piece on Zero Waste for work, get coffee, and shit...”, talking to myself as I walked in the old Nirvana T-Shirt and black underwear hoping I could somehow forget how cold it was every morning, especially since installing hardwood floors.

I patted my horribly pale and cold feet down the hallway and into my very blue bathroom.

I grimaced whenever I looked up at myself, deciding it would be a shame if you met your soulmate today looking like a damn hobo.

My black hair that was usually straight and touching my waist, was in a frazzled curly mess that seemed to stick up everywhere.

I don’t want to straighten my hair. And I don’t wanna go jogging this morning.

It was something I always said to myself, while I turned the faucet on, and started brushing my teeth

I’ll shove it up in a bun. Just this morning.

Flipping my hair over, I tied it in a messier mess, and laughed in pain as I hit my head on the sink

“Real nice Lydia, Really fucking nice, you donut.”

And after putting the 5-HTP vitamins back in the medicine cabinet, I caught my eye on my wrist.

Jack Napier was written in a weird cursive pattern that I’ve never seen anyone use.

My lips curled up in a mile thinking about him.

“Love you, J.” I whispered into my wrist as if he could feel it and kissed the beautiful lettering, like I always did.

--------------------------------------------------

“Don’t you ever think about dating?”, Angela asked me. She’d been doing that a lot lately, mostly because she thought it was concerning I’d talk to my wrist sometimes as if he’d actually hear me.

“Nope.”, popping the ‘P’ and pretending I wasn’t almost out of breath after we just went up a big hill while sprinting and we haven’t stopped jogging after that.

I looked over as Angela’s blonde hair whipped her in the face and squinted when the sun burned my fucking corneas. She was scrunching her face up and I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed with me or the fact that for the first time in weeks, the sun was brightly fucking with us today.

She stopped suddenly, making me stumble as I stopped my shaking feet.

“Do you- lord. Do you ever think maybe you’ll never find your soulmate?” She asked, attempting to catch her breath.

I leaned over, wiping the sweat off my forehead, thinking for a moment. Avoiding eye contact with the sun, I looked up at her.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think I’ll never find him and I’ll die alone.”

“But...there’s other people who won’t have soulmates.”

“Yeah, I know. But I love him. I’m in love with him and I wouldn’t think of anyone else to be with.”

Angela’s face stayed scrunched, but after a moment she stood up straight, and smiled at be jokingly.

“Can you tell me his name then?”

“Nope”

“Oh, come on you looooove him, show him off!”

“I’ve never told anyone his name and I never will!”

_________________________________________

The sun stayed shining for a minimum of two hours before the clouds of Seattle claimed their rightful spot again.

Typing the last few sentences on my laptop for work, I decided it would be best if I just got some rest before I passed out again.

I closed the grey laptop and crawled into bed.

Folding my arms into an ‘X’ across my chest, I kissed my left wrist once, before drifting off to sleep.

“Goodnight Jack.”

----------------------------------------------------

Rinnnnng Ringgggg Ringgnggggg Rinnnnnnng

Groggily opening my eyes, I looked into my usual dark room to see that my phone was lighting up on the desk on my nightstand.

“What the fuck?”

I sat up quickly realizing it’s not close to 4 A.M. after seeing the angry numbers in red on my alarm clock.

Picking up the phone hastily and clumsily almost ignoring the call, I looked to see it was Ruelle City Police Department. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Ruelle was a town in California, and I haven’t been there in forever.

“Hello?”

After a few seconds of silence, I heard a deep, male voice come through. “Hello, is this Lydia Wayne?”

Sitting up on the side of the bed and shivering to the cold floor, I answered. “Yes, this is she?”

“Ms. Wayne, 7 years ago you filed a restraining order against a Michael Perino, correct?”

I felt dizzy, but I stood up. The wind knocked out of me and I could see my face in the mirror beside my bed mirror only horror and a pale washed out look.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Why are you asking?”

“Well, you see Ms. Wayne, Mr. Perino was released yesterday, and on his list of people to contact that he’s been released is your name at the top. We would also like to tell you that he did threaten and stress that he was going to see you, as we always ask where are released prisoners are off to, but we didn’t think anything of it. But this morning, his card was seen to have activity buying a bus ticket to Seattle, and we felt the need to tell you for common protocol. Now, you can let us call Seattle po-”

I dropped the phone from my grasp and felt my breathing become increasingly shallow.

no no no no no no no

“This isn’t happening, Lydia. No. No”

I fell to the cold floor and curled up in a ball of unshed tears.

So many thoughts were bouncing in my mind and I couldn’t think straight.

Nausea lifted itself into my throat and I knew I’d get sick if I didn’t calm down.

“Okay, come on. Come on get it together!” I whispered to myself and slapped my cheek.

I got up, grabbing my phone, and running to the closet for my suitcase I never use.

Grabbing clothes, my toothbrush, brush, and anything I could fit in the compact sized suitcase was hard, but I made due. I was freaking out and I could feel my heart racing like it’s never done before.

Last but not least I grabbed a shiny, silver necklace that laid on the top of my mirror for safe keeping.

It was custom-made and would changed from silver to light purple in the light. It has a single ‘J’ on it.

Grabbing the suitcase, kissing my left wrist, and locking the door, I ran out of my apartment faster than I ever have before.

And while I hailed a cab to the airport, I dialed a number I rarely ever used.

It was picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” The voice came through.

“Bruce, I’m in trouble. I need a place to stay in Gotham for a while an-”

“Yeah, Shasta, anything for you. Just call me when you arrive and if you need me to pay for anything, please ask.”

“Thank you, Brucey.”

“Always, Sis.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

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