A new normal

Even before the last punishment, things had been… awkward. Not just because of the pain or the fear, but because of the things they had lost. Pieces of themselves that should have been there—but weren't.

Violet would still reach for things with an arm that wasn't there. Sometimes, without thinking, she'd move to push her hair back or place a hand on Dash's shoulder, only to feel nothing but empty space. Each time it happened, she would freeze for a moment, staring at where her arm used to be, before swallowing hard and pretending it didn't bother her.

Dash sighed every time he noticed Violet's struggles. But his attempt to recover wasn't better. He'd misjudged the distances, bumping into Violet or having difficulty grabbing something .

One day he tried to grab the cup of water that they were given with their meager rations, his hand swiping at empty air. The loss of depth perception from his injured eye was frustrating, disorienting. It made him feel clumsy—weak.

And then there were the nights. The nights were the worst.

The cell was always freezing, the cold stone seeping into their bones. They'd long since stopped caring about pride or personal space—cuddling together was the only way to keep warm. But even that had changed.

Dash often flinched when he felt Violet's stump brush against his side, the unexpected sensation startling him. He hated that he reacted that way, hated that it made Violet pull away, curling up as if she'd done something wrong.

She didn't say anything, but she pulled her arm away, pressing it to her own chest instead. Dash had felt awful. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that it wasn't her, that it was just… everything. But he didn't know how to put it into words. Dash could see the guilt in her eye, the way she hesitated to reach out to him. It made him feel worse, knowing she thought it was her fault.

—-

Then the punishment came. The lashes, the stress positions, the unbearable agony. And now, both of them had lost an eye.

The recovery was slow. Their backs burned with every movement, their joints screamed in protest from being forced into painful angles for so long, and now their worlds were permanently lopsided, vision cut in half.

Their bodies ached from the punishment, every movement a reminder of their injuries. Bandages covered the empty sockets where their eyes once were, and their wounds throbbed in unison

It was too much.

But as days passed by, they began to settle back into a fragile semblance of normality. They spoke more, leaning on each other in ways they hadn't before.

Their conversation while shackled seemed to have shifted something between them, creating a quiet understanding that didn't need to be spoken aloud.

So every night, when the pain became too much to bear, they escaped in the only way they could: daydreaming.

"I miss warm beds," Dash mumbled, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, hoarse, but there was a faint wistfulness to it.

"Me too," Violet said softly, resting her head against the wall. "What else do you miss?"

Dash's face lit up, despite his exhaustion. "Run," he said simply. "Just run. As fast as I can. No walls, no guards, no limits. Just… freedom. What about you?"

"Violet sighed. "A real shower. A long, hot shower. No cold water. No blood. Just warm, clean water."

"That sounds… really nice," Dash admitted, closing his eye. "And then I want to go to the beach. I want to see the ocean again. Remember how Mom and Dad used to take us to the beach? We'd bury Dad in the sand, and he'd always pretend to be a sand monster."

Violet chuckled softly, a bittersweet sound. "Yeah. Mom would yell at him when he tracked sand into the car."

Dash's lips twitched into a small smile. "Yeah. I'd eat, like, a hundred churros. You know, the ones they sell by the boardwalk? With the cinnamon sugar? I don't even care if I get sick after."

Violet smiled, her expression softened. "I wanna go to Europe," she murmured. "Somewhere old and beautiful… like Paris or Rome. Just walk through the streets, see the history, feel like a normal person for once."

Dash tilted his head against her shoulder. "That sounds… kind of boring."

Violet nudged him lightly with her arm, Dash just laugh at her reaction.

"Well, I think it sounds amazing," she continued. "Imagine sitting in a little café, drinking something fancy, watching the world go by."

Dash made a face. "Sounds expensive."

Violet scoffed. "Well, yeah, but if we're daydreaming, we can afford whatever we want."

Dash hummed, considering. "Okay, fine. But after your boring fancy café, we're going to Mickeyland."

Violet blinked. "Mickeyland?"

"Yeah." Dash's voice perked up slightly, his eye shining with something almost childlike. "I've been waiting forever to go! We could go on every ride. Eat way too much junk food. Wear dumb hats. Being silly and childish again"

"You're already silly and childish," Violet teased.

Dash scoffed. "Okay, Miss I-Want-to-Go-to-Paris."

Violet smiled. "Fine. We'll go to Mickeyland. But you better not chicken out on the roller coasters."

"Please," Dash said, waving her off. "I'll drag you on every ride."

Violet sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but the thought of it—the two of them, free, happy, running through a place filled with light and laughter—made something deep in her chest ache.

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Violet hesitated, then admitted, "I'd like to paint. Or maybe learn to play an instrument" Violet's smile faltered, as she looked at her missing arm. "But…I guess It has to be just painting."

"Why is that?" Dash asked.

"Dash… most instruments, such as the guitar, violin or even the flute, require two hands to play." She replied.

But before the weight of that realization could settle, Dash grinned. "Guess we'll just have to get Edna to make you a badass robot arm."

She snorted. "Oh yeah? You think she'd actually do it?"

"Of course! And not just any arm—a super arm. Maybe with built-in laser cannons. Or a grappling hook! Or—ooh, what if it transformed into a sword?!"

"I don't want to be a human Swiss Army knife, Dash."

Dash grinned. "Fine, you can keep a boring regular arm. But I want a robot eye. X-ray vision. Night vision… No, laser eye!"

Violet smirked. "You just want to be a cyborg."

"Duh… I still want to go to super missions. What better way to get back into action than with amazing upgrades?"

Violet stiffened slightly at that, her good eye focusing on him. "You really think they'd let us?" she asked, voice quieter now.

Dash blinked. "Why wouldn't they?"

Violet sighed. "Dash… after what happened to us, do you really think Mom and Dad are gonna let us out of their sight? We probably won't even be allowed to go into a grocery store alone, let alone back into the field."

Dash rolled his eye, though he didn't fully disagree. "Okay, yeah, Mom's gonna be super overprotective, but I bet Dad will try to be chill about it."

Violet scoffed. "Are you kidding? Dad's gonna be just as bad. Maybe worse. And you know they're gonna smother us with hugs and kisses."

Dash sighed dramatically. "We'll be drowning in affection."

"And food," Violet added.

At that, Dash perked up. "Oh! Yeah! Mom's probably gonna cook so much for us. And not just normal meals—like, the works. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks…" His stomach growled at the thought. "Oh man, I'm gonna eat so much."

A silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of reality creeping back in. The daydream was comforting, but it was still just that—a dream."

Dash was quiet for a moment before he swallowed hard. "Hey Vi…"

"Mmm?"

How do you think they would react when they see us?" His voice was small, hesitant. "When they see… all the parts that are missing?"

Violet hesitated. She had thought about it before, of course, but hearing Dash say it out loud made it feel heavier. She knew exactly how their parents would react. The horror in their eyes. The grief. The guilt.

Violet sighed, her expression somber. "They'd be devastated," she admitted. "They'd cry. Be angry. Probably go ballistic trying to find the people who did this to us."

Dash swallowed hard, looking down.

"But," she continued, her voice gentler now, "they'd still love us. They wouldn't care how we look, or what we lost. We're still us, alive. And that's all that matters to them."

"Do you think Mom and Dad are still looking for us?"

"Of course they are," she said firmly.

Dash nodded slowly, but his good eye glistened with unshed tears. " But you think they'll find us?" His voice was quiet. "Before it's too late?".

She swallowed hard, her own doubts clawing at her. How many pieces of them had already been taken? How much more could they endure? But seeing the fear in Dash's face, she couldn't let him spiral. "They'll find us, Dash. They will. I promise."

Dash looked at her, searching her face for reassurance. Despite the hesitation in her voice, she held his gaze, willing him to believe her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Dash scooted closer to her, his movements stiff and painful. He wrapped his arms around her, and she pulled him into an embrace.

The warmth of the hug was a fragile comfort, but it was enough. Violet rested her chin lightly on the top of His head, holding him as tightly as her battered body would allow. But when her stump brushed against him, she froze for a second, expecting him to flinch like he always did.

But this time, he didn't.

He didn't move away. He didn't react at all.

And in that moment, without words, they both silently acknowledged it.

They were finding a new normal.

Even if it was built from broken pieces.