3 Years Later

I dont know how much time passed.

Or rather, people refused to tell me.

My constant state of slipping in and out of consciousness allowed very little time for questions. No, those times were spent getting food and water fed to me. Getting my body checked out and exercised to make sure they were still working.

Even Jake, the man who refused to have me stay anywhere else but the couch in his 'room', didn't allow me 'waste my energy' by asking him questions. He didn't tell me what was wrong but I could hear him speak about it to Ace. Or rather, I could hear everyone talk about it.

Whispers of broken bones and internal bleeding mixed with heavy bruises left a very stale taste in me. As each time I woke up, the whispers grew more frantic and worrisome.

It's not an uncommon feature of the apocalypse to kick out those who are injured. Everyone's sacrificed the wounded before, it's no longer frowned upon to do so. Thus, it made every second being bed-ridden more stressful. I have to bite the pain at some point and pretend I'm okay. There's no guarantee that I'll be allowed to stay as I am now.

knock knock

someone's at the door.

I paused my thoughts as the door slowly creaked open allowing tufts of white hair to peak through first. My eyes widened as I saw the near shaven head Abby adorned when she crept in. Her eyes pointed downwards while trudging off towards me. A look of surprise took over her sullen expression when she realized I was awake and watching.

"You're.... up." She mumbled, almost as if unsure that it was true. I offered a smile and a shrug.

"I guess you can say that." My voice was dry and cracky. Reminded me of how I was just months ago. My voice box so unused that it produced croaks. I guess that's just a new feature I'll have to expect whenever I stay quiet for too long.

I was, once again, pulled from my thoughts when I noticed the way Abby dragged a chair over to me. Straddling it as she observed me, her eyes seemingly scanned from each bandage and stitch that covered me from head to toe. I couldn't say much cause I was doing the same with her. Looking at the way the dried blood on her bandages looked across her head. Stared at the small stitches that laid on her barren arms.

"You're a real dumbass you know that?"

Blinking, I turned back to her face and recognizing that same look of disdain. It drew a sigh from my lips as I looked at my hand which were neatly laid on my l.a.p. I expected the scolding to come so I stayed quiet. Waiting for her to begin and finish with heavy apathy plaguing my system.

"You... You're reckless. Impulsive. Incapable of following any sort of orders. You f.u.c.k.i.n.g dream half the time and," She hissed as she stood up to kick the chair away and pace, "You can barely take two steps without getting f.u.c.k.e.d over by your own messed up memories!"

"And that's the most frustrating part about all of this!"

Pausing, she let out that same maniacal laugh as she gripped her arms. I bit my lip as I tried to settle my own frustration that was building up.

"Everyone here knows you. Knows what you've done. Knows who you royally f.u.c.k.e.d up beyond repair. And yet, you don't remember a single thing about it! Ha, you don't even know why everyone hates your god damn guts! You don't know how much I've been waiting for the excuse to kick you out right now!"

I winced, a part of me who know what she was talking about was hurting. Deep in my c.h.e.s.t where all those repressed memories lived. I felt the need to yell at these accusations. To make justifications for my actions. But for what actions? What have I done? What have I forgotten?

The room laid quiet as she had to pause for air. Wheezing ever so slightly, with coughs in between, and grabbing the chair to sit down at. Her ranting must've taken a toll on her some how. For a moment, that was all that happened. Her out burst now a mere echo left in my mind.

Abby finally looked back up at me. What should've been anger in her eyes was instead guilt.

"You knew how we felt, yet you still sacrificed yourself to save me. Why?" She almost whispered causing a feeling of shock to go through me.

Why did I save her?

Was it pity? Was it to not be blamed for her death?

No. There was more to that. Flashes her face, the scared pleading look she had, the hopelessness of the situation she was in. Maybe I was projecting myself onto her? Seeing my own scared face echo back to me.

I didn't reply. I couldn't. My hands clenched on the dusty sheet Jake gave me for a blanket. What's left of my fingernails began to rip holes in them as I tried to scream at myself to talk. To say something. To say anything to her!

I felt a distance begin to grow once more as I watch her face turned expectant to disappointment. A sigh left her lips as she nodded. Agreeing with whatever conclusion she made in her mind as she scanned me one more time.

"How did you get those scars?"

Confused, I furrowed my eyebrows at her as she pointed to my back. My hand subconsciously reaching behind and feeling the deep groves of old wounds that laid there. The mix match patterns of scratches laced my back.

"I..."

Memories of a broken night, my body trapped under metal, the feeling of claw marks ripping through my skin, taking everything that I once was and shredding it to pisces. A hard stop preventing any sort of explanation yet I could still feel it hang between the lines. Something, someone, was trying to yell at me about something yet what? What are they screaming out to me?

Her mouth opened then closed.

Her decision made.

Her form stood and promptly faded away.