Warm Ticking Crates

by WolfOfHearts

A quietly ever expanding mix of all my You related things. Mostly ficlets, drabbles and oneshots that somehow began a actual story with a plot. (Rating increased to M because of harsh curses in Meeting.)

1. Sick

You are sick.

Sick of the stares, the whispers, the pointing. You're sick of happy Night Vale couples glowering at you, sick of mothers clutching their children close to them. You're sick of the voice that feels like spiky velvet in your head, sick of the dark planet, sick of having flashbacks to that night. You are sick of pretty much everything.

And you are also angry.

Angry at Cecil for revealing your personal life to the world, angry at him for allowing the man who was not short and the man who was not tall to find you. You're angry at him for making you look like a nutcase, angry at him for everything about that night.
You're angry that the planet still haunts your mind, angry at the scar on your neck from the knife. Angry at the loss of your car, of your job, of your former life. Angry at anything that triggers your memory. You are angry about pretty much everything.

There is one thing though, that you're not sick of or angry about. One thing that seems to be a speck of light in the dark existence you now inhabit. One thing your desperately want to talk to, one thing you want to get to know, one thing you've fallen in love with.

Too bad it's already taken.