AN: Trigger warning. Physical & Emotional trauma, traumatic childhood, descriptive panic attacks, suggestive trauma, etc.
Skip by pressing ctrl + f and copy(ctrl C)/pasting(ctrl V) the phrase: 'I'm not even sure I wanna know anymore.'
Daryl pulled up his blanket again for the 9th time in ten minutes and I've finally had enough of it. It's bad enough he's barely touching that tray Carol left. As far as I know, he hasn't eaten since this morning.
I understand why he's hiding— trying, to hide those scars.
My shoulder rolled unconsciously. A knot tied my stomach, sinking by the second and forming a pit deeper than the one I was actually in the day before last.
And here I thought my gut was done havin' somethin' to say.
...Maybe it's time.
It's not like I've been waitin' for a "special moment". Even if I was, this would be it. Wouldn't it?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I set my cards down(face down) and slid my jacket off.
Daryl looked at me curiously, and when I grabbed the rim of my shirt he lurched, "What're ya doin?"
I pulled the fabric up, being careful to keep the front of it from rising too high and twisted until I knew he could see them.
The circular burn scars on my shoulder blade.
It was quiet before but it's deathly so now.
I side-eyed him as he took several uncomfortable but examining glances, before forcibly fixing his eyes on the cards in his hand.
Huh, he doesn't usually have a problem staring at things. When it comes to stuff like this though… good to know he's not as insensitive as he likes to believe.
Attempting to ignore the pull in my chest, I swallowed the extra saliva in my mouth. Geronimo.
"When I was 13, I was livin' with this family with two other girls like me...The parents treated us well. Sent us to school, the mrs made dinner, bought us new school clothes, shoes, helped with our homework, asked how our day went when we came home."
Daryl looked up from his cards to watch me carefully. Almost the way he looks at people he doesn't trust.
"They were the nicest host family any of us ever had by far… 'til our foster father's drinking friends came 'round."
"Every Sunday. The wives would go out with their friends for girl's night, while their husbands played cards or watched the game in the living room downstairs."
"They drank, smoked. Talked about work, sports, their wives. All that nostalgia crap from high school and college."
I shifted, tryna force a bit more air into my lungs than they want and swallow the constricting muscles in my throat.
"Every Sunday night...like clockwork, one of 'em would come stumblin' up the stairs to our room, the room the three of us shared."
Daryl shifted; Something cold and burning setting in his gaze. I could only bring myself to take glances at him the more I recanted.
"One of the girls was younger than me—9 I think— but the other was much older. Nearly 18. I don't remember their names anymore. Something starting with G or M."
"...Whoever came up, would drag out the older girl. If she refused or fought back, they'd threaten to take one of us in her place."
Daryl stiffened, his finger stopped picking at the corner of a card he was glaring at.
"Every time she came back, it was well past midnight. She'd come back crying, shaking. Lookin' like she could fall down at any moment, and a few times she did. Barely makin' it through the doorway."
"I'd help her into bed, lock the door ...push one of our heavy storage chests in front of it, and lay with her while she cried 'erself to sleep."
"I wanted to help— make it stop but...I was just a kid. I didn't know there was somethin' I could do about it. Until some afternoon we were watching a movie, just the three of us."
"I don't remember why our foster parents weren't there or even what movie it was, but I remember the exact moment I thought of it, like it just happened. And I couldn't stop thinkin' about it."
"Couldn't even sleep that night… Next morning when we went to school, I went to the gym coach and asked him to teach me to be a fighter."
"He said no."
"What responsible adult would teach some 13 year old how to fight without their parents okay? I thought that was the end of it, I'd have to find another way, but I didn't even get to the door before he said, you can't teach someone to be somethin' they already are."
"First thing he taught me was, violence is just a means to an ends, but there's more than one way to fight."
'It's easy to teach one, but no one can teach you the other, Rider. That's somethin' you either find on your own, or it finds you.'
"He was one of those real philosophical people you see in movies— it was almost unreal." My lip quirked up remembering the time I compared him to the old man on Karate Kid and his face when I said it.
'Child, that is the first and last time you compare a proud black man such as myself to some ancient Chinese guy teachin' a teenager to wax a car.'
"Everyday after school from then on, he trained me in mixed martial arts. It was brutal for a 13 year old but 6-7 weeks down the line, he told me there was nothing else he could teach me...Said I was the fastest learning student he'd ever seen let alone taught and asked why I was so committed."
"...Why were ya?"
I didn't expect him to be curious, let alone voice it. He's been so quiet this whole time. Hasn't even asked why I'm telling him this— which in all honesty is just a bit unsettling.
Part of me actually thought he would've asked me to stop by now. It's weird when he's quiet and I'm not.
"...—I never answered him but, when your life —or others you care about— are on the line, you either learn quick or..." I inhaled sharply, "Or face the fallout."
Daryl looked down at the cards in his hand; givin' me the distinct feeling he knows exactly what I'm talkin' about.
I suspected before but now I don't doubt he's been somewhere 'round there himself.
I don't think he's ever put his into words. I certainly haven't before. I just...never felt the need to before now. Honestly I'm not sure why I'm doin' it now.
I could've easily gone the rest of my life without tellin' another soul. No one questions my silence for long.
"Right around then must've been when I quit talkin." I startled myself by voicing that thought.
That's never happened before; Speaking without realizing, before it's too late.
"Why?"
"No longer had any reason to, I s'pose. Looking back, I've never been much of a talker. Before, I only spoke when I needed to, usually to ask for a hand. After, I didn't need help anymore. I knew how to help myself."
Daryl nodded, glancing down at the split he's picked in the top of a worn card in his hand.
Now that I think about it...It's not such a wild guess now to assume we had similar childhoods.
He didn't ask how I got these scars(and that's a lovely reminder of the Joker). I recon he has some of his own, if not similar.
He hasn't asked any questions really. Hasn't even looked confused for the most part— like I imagine most would be during a conversation like this.
"...Did ya leave?"
I caught Daryl's eyes for the first time since I opened my mouth.
Leave? Wha— I shook my head.
I didn't leave then but in retrospect I probably should have. I never would have left without the other girls. I wouldn't have left them there. Not in that place.
"Sunday came back 'round. Before that week's drunk 40 year old stumbled up the stairs, I told the other girls to grab their go bags. Every kid in the system has o— had one...even if they were hidden. Some of us took it so far as to hide two. One in the house, and one at a separate location, offsite. In case we couldn't go back, or needed two for whatever reason."
I wonder if that blue backpack is still in that drain pipe? It's been around, what? 20 years since I stashed it. The cookies in that plastic sack are probably long inedible by now.
The blanket shifted, and I glanced to make sure my cards hadn't flipped and given away my hand.
Uhhh, where was I? Oh, "I told 'em to go out the window. While I hid just inside the bathroom at the top of the stairs, outta sight."
"Before then I never thought I'd be thankful for that notorious top steps creaking. I don't remember moving. It just happened. One minute I was waitin' for it, the next..." I stared at the cards in my hand. The ace of spades warping into polished wood steps, in that dark staircase.
"My bare foot hitting his chest. Smellin' like smoke and beer… And watchin' him fall backwards down the stairs. The bottle in his hand shattering, glass scattered over the steps."
Is my hand shaking? I clenched my hands tight, bending the cards under my fingertips.
"...I never saw him move...No bruises. No blood...almost like he'd drunk too much and conked out."
A cold sweat set in on my neck; my hands growing clammy.
Dark looming eyes of the foster father fixed on me from the bottom step.
"I don't know how— or when my foster father got there...but he was so—" Every muscle in my body tightened; Pain radiated from my jaw up through my skull.
The murderous eyes of my foster father burrowed into me, with every step he took.
"I don't remember what happened...if I ran or not...doctor said it was shock or memory blockage— my brain trying to protect me or something. But I didn't make it to the window like they had. If that's even where I was going."
"I'm not even sure I wanna know anymore. All I remember is that man above me, takin— taking the cigarette from his mouth, and that red glow disappearing from my sight."
I only realized I was rolling my shoulder when my elbow brushed Daryl's knee.
Forcing air into my lungs, my fingers started tingling. I looked at my hands shaking.
I can't remember a lot of what happened, but I remember that like it's still happening.
"...The neighbors must've heard something and called the police, but by the time shields got there, he'd gone through 4 whole smokes. Didn't take more than a single drag from any. Some took more than one smudge to put out."
"I know what he planned to do. His belt was clue enough but he never got that far." I rubbed my sweaty palm off on my knee, focusing on the pattern of the cards.
"Probably didn't count on the neighbors coming back from their date early."
I can feel Daryl looking at me and part of me wants to look up but I can't. Not yet...I'm not far enough yet.
"What happened to the other two?" I could tell from Daryl's voice he was uncomfortable but not in the way I expected him to be.
It could just be my imagination— probably is, but it sounds more like he's uncomfortable that I'm uncomfortable, not with my telling him this.
Maybe it's the sheer amount of talking I've done in the last hour. It's more than he can handle.
The question about the other girls is more than a welcome distraction from the other stuff, but it still took me by surprise. He's just full of that tonight. Or maybe It's me who's off their game.
"I never saw 'em again."
I can barely remember their faces anymore. Nevermind what they would look like today, if they're still alive somewhere.
"'Ey" I flinched when Daryl touched my knee; Harshly reeling back to the present. Before the bud could touch down, I put as much mental distance between me and then as possible.
I tried to swallow, acid burning in the back of my throat. My chest pulling and burning. My vision swam, my stomach soaring like it would standing on a cliff edge.
Oh God, no, no, no, no, no—
"'ey"
I was wrong— you can still be afraid of something after it's long gone.
"Eve!" Daryl grabbed my wrist and my eyes snapped up so fast it made me nauseous.
Breathe. It was a long time ago. We're fine. He's dead. They're all dead. Never coming back.
Daryl's POV
"What's goin' on?!" The door flung open, and Beth looked between us.
"I don't know— go get Hershel, now"
Beth nodded and ran down the hall, shouting for her dad.
Eve grabbed my wrist, breathin' like she's runnin' a marathon. Her other hand gripped at her chest tightly. 'Er knuckles are white but she's still shaking.
The Hell is happenin' is she having an asthma attack or somethin?!
Rushed, heavy footsteps came down the hall and Hershel, Beth, and Maggie came through the door a second later.
"What happened?" he came up to her and Eve put her hand up to stop him in his tracks.
"Don't know, she was fine a minute ago. What the Hell's happenin' to 'er?"
"She's havin' a panic attack." Hershel answered.
This is the same thing that happened when she got outta that hole. And the CDC.
She was havin' panic attacks? I didn't think panic attacks were like this. I thought you were s'posed to get all scared, and bolt.
"Has this happened before?" Hershel asked Eve, but glanced at me too.
Eve nodded, returning her hand to her chest but s'far as I can tell it ain't doin' shit.
"I'm gonna need you all to calm down. You'll only make it worse." Hershel looked at me, and glanced over his shoulder at the two girls.
Eve's nails dug into my wrist as she inhaled. Amber eyes blinking several times a second; way faster than 'ey should.
This is becomin' a habit.
"Is she gonna be okay, daddy?" Beth held onto her sister's arm almost as tightly as Eve held my wrist.
"Of course. She'll be alright. Ain't that right, Eve?"
Eve looked at him, and nodded but it don't look like she was payin' attention.
"I want you to match my breathin' Eve."
Eve looked like she was about to roll 'er eyes but clamped 'er mouth shut and forced herself to breathe through 'er nose.
Hershel breathed with her. In through the nose, out the mouth, until her grip finally loosened on my wrist and 'er breaths were gettin' further and further spaced.
"Is this really all you can do for 'er?" Maggie tentatively approached her father from behind.
"Unfortunately." Hershel pulled a chair over from the wall and sat in front of Eve.
"I know it's a scare, but it's somethin' she has to get through on 'er own. Best thing you can do for 'er is ask what she needs and comply."
"For future reference" Hershel looked at me, glancing at Eve's vice grip on my wrist. "Don't ever leave 'er alone if she's havin' an attack. Even if she tells you she's fine. Don't touch 'er either unless she says so. Just stay with her. Help 'er focus on breathin' and wait 'till she's recovered."
Guess I know why she flinched before. I gave a brief nod, watchin' Eve calm down.
A tense few minutes ticked by with only breathin' until she licked her lip and finally let go of my wrist.