3 Years Later

I don't know what's wrong with me

To be fair, I shouldn't worry as much. In fact, I don't even know why I was worried in the first place.

Wasn't it a given for people to be f.u.c.k.e.d up in some sort of way? Maybe by appearance? Like missing limbs, large stretching scars, broken bones, and a dirty face. Or maybe in a mental sense? The rise of anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, PTSD, all the different mental disorders I learned in Psyc class and then some.

But to go so far as erasing memories without the lead causes of amnesia? To feel such pain in my head? To repress so much memory that Freud is two steps away from crawling out of his grave to psychoanalyze me?

A huff left me as I pulled my helmet off, my legs staggering over to some wall as my body dropped. Inching down to the floor with legs sprawled out in front of me. My helmet laid in my l.a.p as I stared at the junk of plastic.

Through thick and thin, this thing was with me. Somewhere along the lines of three years I picked it up. Soon become both a great line of defense as well as being a staple for my own sanity.

A black piece of work with red markings self painted on that it looks like a 3 eyed head more than anything else.

the reason for this?

A chuckle left me. The ironic way of how it was suppose to be a reminder of something before Z-Day. And dont get me wrong it does.

Flashes of characters I've written about and drawings ran through my brain but much too fast for me to actually see them.

So here I was, staring at the eyes of my own head, my own representation of my past self, with no clue where the connections lies.

Who am I?

"You."

achingly, my eyes slowly moved towards the source of the voice. But to no avail. Eyes catching the sights of cracked counters and smashed in glass. Taking in the view of dented walls and discarded clothes.

"Who...?" the words came out of me tentatively. Almost as if I was trying to give detection to myself. The pit in my stomach growing as I looked back down.

"You're You."

The voice spoke again, which makes no sense. No, it sounds too close to be someone else. Too personal.

Light soon bore into my sight forcing me to look down and see the way the rays of sunlight cast down from the sky light and into the reflective surface of my helmet. Almost accentuating the shapes of scratches and stained blood marks on the thing.

A gulp welled in my throat as I stared longer.

"There's No One Else You Can Be After All." The mask spoke. Tone monotone and childlike.

What is this?

A shiver ran down my back as I pushed the blasted thing away. The elevated state of my breathing becoming apparent with each exhale as sweat trickled down my curvature of my own skin.

This isn't real. It's just the lack of sleep that's all. As well as food. It must be the food. God knows how long it's been since I've had full portions of food. That must be it, it has to be it, what else would it be?

before I could compute what was happening, a wave of nausea hit me with the force of a car crash. Saliva once again building and spilling out of my mouth with such intensity that I could do nothing but hunch over and let it splash all over the floor. Watching the semi-clear liquid crawl outwards with each heave.

"Shaina."

My eyes shut tighter. A dry gulp rippled through my throat despite the amount of spit leaving me. Dry heaving began to rack through my body and, as I heard footsteps come closer, I held out my hand. The simple gesture to just wait, to just leave me be for a quiet second. To let me get rid of this icky black feeling that welled itself onto the inside of my gut.

"D...Dont call me that." I managed through the haze of sickness and pain.

"What?"

Sneaking a glance, I saw Abby's disapproving yet concerned gaze. The gulping only grew dryer as I physically felt the air around me grow colder.

"Shaina... Dont call me..." a sigh left me, "You're gonna split my head apart if you do."

"Well suck it up. We don't have time for this." She said, tone harsh and icy causing another wave of spit to leave me.

A sound of disgust left her lips before a light blue towel fell in front of me. My eyes barely making it shape through the tears as I heard her footsteps move away from me. Despite my retching I could still make out the sound of her gags.

"Clean up your vomit and get on your feet. God, how the hell do you have that much in your stomach?"

Confused, my attention turned downwards. What was the clear liquid of saliva was now a foaming orange yellow color. Bright and angry for being forced to leave the confines of my stomach. It caused me to wonder just how much of that mixture was what I managed to eat within the past week and how much of it was straight up bile.

I didn't have the time to figure it out when a strong hand pulled my arm and thus my body upwards. My hands barely grabbing the towel in time so I could press it against my mouth. The stench of fresh puke now hitting my senses as Abby dragged me along.

"You've had your damn break so let's go you sick f.u.c.k." She spat out, throwing my helmet into my middle causing a groan to leave my lips. The ache not setting well with me but I had no choice but to follow her.

"now come on. We can't leave without doing out job."