pixie

Flinging the greenery up in the air and in all directions, he crashed onto the linoleum, yelping as he went.

‘Oh my god! Sam!’ You exclaimed, rushing over with a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, unsure what to do.

He held up a hand, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, nothing but a bruised ego,’ He shifted his body into an upright position, legs splayed out in front of him. ‘Ouch— and a bruised ass, apparently, fuck…’ You stopped in your tracks, making momentary eye contact. Then, you both burst out laughing. You couldn’t stop yourself; you laughed so much that you ended up on the floor, too, hands clutched over your aching stomach, tears in your eyes. You don’t know why this event triggered such a reaction from you, but it felt so good to laugh.

After helping him collect the vegetables from under the tables and triple checking he was really alright, you had been comfortable making pleasant conversation with each other for the rest of your shift. You shared embarrassing and awkward stories with one another. It was a nice, wholesome way to grow your friendship.

Sam must have been quite a bit older than you, in his late 30s, early 40s, maybe. He was married, his younger wife was a soldier, and he spoke of her often.

‘I know she’s strong, capable. So, I’m not trying to… But… you know,’

‘You miss her?’

‘Yeah! I miss her. And I worry. I know she can handle herself out there, but there’s always so many possibilities…’

‘I understand,’ you offered him a comforting smile, ‘It’s only natural to worry about the people you love.’

‘Right.’ He agreed, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a hand towel.

Just then, Polly entered the room swiftly, a low grunting sounded from her as she moved through the room. The energy shifted awkwardly; you and Sam shared a confused look as you continued peeling vegetables, and he prepared the salmon. She seemed slightly off this morning.

‘Hey, Polly,’ you tried greeting her. She slowed her pace a little, turning to you, giving you a slight huff of a returned hello.

A few minutes of awkward silence filled the air of the kitchen as everyone worked, no one knowing quite what to say with the newfound uncomfortable tension.

‘Everything alright, Pol?’ Sam attempted again, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

‘Not really, son. This one’s got me all worked up!’

‘Me?’ you stood, slightly surprised at her finger jabbing your way out of the corner of your eye.

‘Yea, you, missy. I don’t like seein’ ya hangin’ out with all the wrong crowd. It’s not sittin’ right.’

You and Sam shared a look, unsure about how to approach this outburst.

‘Sam is our coworker, Polly… We were just chatting. But I understand if you want us to get on with working—’

‘Not ‘im! You know who!’ She huffed, exasperated, rolling her eyes and flinging her dish towel on a nearby surface.

You stood confused, wracking your brain thinking of anyone she could possibly be talking about. To your most recent knowledge, the only people you’d spoken to since the last time you saw Polly yesterday had been Sam, and Nora outside this morning.

‘How did you…? Polly what are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talkin’ about. I just worry about you, kid. I don’t want anyone messin’ with ya.’

‘Why would anyone be messing with me? Look Polly, I appreciate you worryi—’ She glanced at you with a cold expression filling her hazel eyes. Your stomach dropped, a feeling of discomfort washing over you.

You desperately wanted to set some boundaries, recalling the conversation at the dinner table a few weeks ago where you’d been called Polly’s ‘new project’. You had assumed it was only people judging Polly based on her strangeness. She had been nothing but helpful to you, sometimes giving you some criticism here and there, just like a manager does. But nothing so out of the blue, so out of her realm of business. Was she spying on you? The thought sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had to remind yourself that she was older, she might just be slightly confused or having a bad day. But, if it was Nora she was talking about, what did she have against her? And why was she watching you?

The shift passed slowly, awkwardly. You had been thinking about the invite from Nora, tossing the idea around in your head. You hadn’t planned to make an appearance, to be honest; you appreciated the offer, it was kind. You wanted to get to know Nora more, and you hoped you would become closer if you’d be seeing more of each other out on the track. But, you were tired, and unprepared.

Now, though, you felt an odd sense of rebellion. You didn’t want to feel like a teenager; she can’t tell me what to do, kind of stuff, but you felt a searing desire to go against what Polly said. You respected Polly, but you were your own woman. You weren’t meek and easily pliable like you know you came across when first arriving here.

Fuck it, you thought. Couldn’t hurt to show up for a little while.

As you walked up the corridor, following the small sea of people all chattering excitedly, the music slowly got louder, as did the sound of your heart in your ears. It would be fine. You would go in, see what the fuss was about, maybe see Nora and say hi, then go back up to your room and tick off the ‘be sociable’ mental to-do for the week.

When you enter the moderately crowded room, you don’t see Nora anywhere. You spend a few minutes walking around to see if you could spot her. Failing that, you then settled by the table of drinks for a while, sipping on something sweet that was being served in a bowl with a ladle, like some high school prom.

‘Hey, you want another drink?’ You turned to see a tall man, slightly wobbly on his feet, looking at you with glassy dark eyes. He had a disconcerting smirk on his dry lips as he looked you up and down, his head tilting slightly.

‘Nah, I’m good.’ You gave your response, short and direct.

‘Oh, c’mon. You’re standing here all alone, let me give you some company,’ He bargained, and you got the feeling it wasn’t an offer, but an insertion of his presence into your night.

‘Look, I’m just here to say hi to someone, alright? I don’t need your company,’ You looked him in the eye, frowning. You never had much patience for men like this, nor was your toleration getting any stronger as the years of survival dragged on. If there was one thing you hated most, it was the fact that men thought you were an easy target. You weren’t necessarily intimidating, but you could certainly hold your own, and being underestimated was a key component in the take down of quite a few people with bad intentions when you had been travelling across the country.

‘Pssh. You think you’re something special, doncha? You—’

‘Hey,’ A voice from behind you firmly stated. When you turned, Abby’s eyes were trained on him. As much as you thought her face was sweet, she looked almost mad in the dim orange glow of the room. Her eyes shone with intensity, something more than annoyance, as she stood with a hand on her hip.

‘Abby?’ The man stood up straight, facial expression dropping slightly. ‘Oh, you’re the one she’s waiting for? My bad, I didn’t—’

‘Danny,’ She interrupted, shaking her head. ‘C’mon, man, what is wrong with you?’

Danny looked away for a second, seeming embarrassed. Abby placed her hand lightly between your shoulder blades, beginning to lead you away, barely breaking her eyes away from him until she turned around.

Once you’d gotten to a quieter corner of the party, Abby let her arm drop from your back.

‘Sorry, for grabbing you like that. I didn’t mean to seem…’ She looked flustered, uncomfortable, like after the adrenaline of the situation passed, she regretted getting involved at all. One of her hands found the back of her neck in a self-comforting action, ‘Danny is a dick. I thought I should come help, but I know you didn’t need it… I’ll just—’ She shifted awkwardly, pointing a thumb in a vague direction as she turned to leave.

‘Abby, wait,’ you reached out to stop her, suddenly thinking better of touching her, and stepping back. Still, she stopped and waited for you to continue. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. Thanks for, you know, being my hero,’ You teased, giving her a gentle nudge on the arm, smiling to let her know you weren’t mad or uncomfortable with her intrusion.

Her frame softened slightly, facial muscles relaxing. It was then that you took in what she was wearing. A tight-fitted long sleeve in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, with dark belted jeans and her boots. The way the sleeves hugged her arms caused you to consciously have to refrain from biting into your bottom lip.

‘Yeah, no problem.’ She sighed slightly, looking down at the floor.

‘You look good, by the way,’ You said, ‘I mean, I like your outfit,’ You quickly added, realising you probably sounded far too forward.

‘Thanks, I didn’t know what to wear. I don’t often participate in…’ She gestured around the large hall, ‘The binge drinking sessions, I guess. Usually better things to do,’ She concluded, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I get along with the others, but they can be a handful. Especially with alcohol involved.’

‘I don’t like parties,’ You sympathised, ‘I only heard about it this morning, so I thought I should at least check it out… I might head out soon,’

‘I can walk you back.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that—’

‘Hey, I’m offering.’ she interjected softly. She didn’t know what had come over her, whether it was the alcohol talking or the weeks of trying to get you out of her mind, only to have you claw your way back in; whichever it was, it made her disregard every self-disciplined bone in her body the second she saw you being bothered across the room. So much for letting you come to her.

‘Okay, that would be nice,’ you agreed.

On your way up to your room, you walked in comfortable silence, Abby occasionally taking two steps at a time on the stairs, waiting for you at every turn. You had the impression she was either nervous, or you just walked too slow for her.

‘Thanks,’ you smiled as you reached your door. ‘Hey, you wanna come in for a bit?’ You thought it polite to ask, even though you were certain she’d decline.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just for a little, I have to be up tomorrow.’

You tried not to look surprised as you turned the key in your door, heartbeat stuttering. Abby was going to be in your room. If someone had told you that information when you woke up this morning, you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed in true sceptic fashion.

‘Welcome. Humble abode, and all that,’ You threw over your shoulder, taking your jacket off and throwing it messily on the table, kicking your boots off at the same time.

She chuckled, giving you a once over as she ventured into the room. She looked around, wandering over to the bookshelf against the wall. She saw your various trinkets on the top shelf, nosily scrutinising them, curious about the things you were collecting. You had a little pot full of cool looking stones, as well as various dried flowers, plants and herbs all tied together with a piece of frayed string. She noticed a tiny wooden carved dog figurine, about the size of her pinkie finger, hidden in the corner of the shelf. It was as if you had purposely put him there, facing the wall.

Her finger traced the books you kept on the middle shelf, her brow furrowed attentively. You watched her from the table, taking in her subtle reactions to each title she recognised. Seeing her in your space was making your mind race, and the warmth of alcohol in your system wasn’t helping.

‘I love this one,’ she picked out a battered novel, spine cracked in multiple places, suggesting it to be well-loved by you, too.

‘It’s one of my favourites,’ you beamed, ‘When I found it, I was so excited. I must have read it three times through since being here. There’s something so comforting about the sisters. God, it breaks my heart, but it’s beautiful. Young female protagonists are just— Sorry, ranting…’

When you looked up, she was looking at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

‘No, don’t be sorry. I like that you’re passionate,’ She carefully placed the book back on the shelf. ‘Almost cried the first time I read it, so I get it,’

‘Oh, I did too,’ You laughed. ‘Like a baby.’

She smiled, drumming her hands awkwardly on the shelf, still looking around the room –taking everything in – committing your organised mess to memory.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ You offered, unsure of what to say next.

‘I’ll hate myself for it tomorrow, but yes,’

You walked over to the kitchenette, her following close behind. You reached into a cabinet, fishing around in the back for the bottle Polly had given you; it was some concoction she had been brewing bottles of for years, apparently. It tasted like shit, but it certainly did its job. You poured a couple of shot’s worth into two lowball glasses and handed her one, clinking your cups before taking a drink.

‘God—what is that?’ She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

You laughed at her expression, ‘Something Polly makes. It’s just fermented old fruit, or something. It really is bad, though,’

Her frame stiffened at the mention of Polly, but she quickly shook it off, hoping you would put it down to the drink, if you noticed at all.

‘I should know better than to be taking drink offers from strangers in their rooms…’ She changed the subject, taking another sip and peeking out of the corner of her eye for a reaction.

‘Hey! Are you suggesting I’d drug you?! We’re not strangers… Not really,’ You feigned offence, pushing her lightly. ‘And besides, how would I even go about getting something like that? I’d have to go rummaging—'

‘Oh my god, why are you actually thinking about it?!’ She laughed, highly amused by your tangent. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t trick me like that even if you tried,’ She continued poking fun at you, turning and making her way to the living area. She seemed so comfortable. You stayed where you were for a moment, starting to wonder how this woman could be so complex. She was difficult to understand the essence of, even after being aware of her for so long. You had seen her act cold towards people, towards you. Yet when she was warm, God she was warm.

‘Are you coming?’ She paused.

‘Yeah.’ You followed her to your couch, and you both sat, you with your legs up underneath you, her with one foot planted on the ground, the other knee lazily hanging half on the chair, so she was angled facing you. It was a small couch, so you were quite close, but it didn’t bother you; you already felt so normal about interacting with her and having her here.

‘So… when you’re out there, y’know, patrolling…’

‘Oh God, work talk?’ she sighed, but she looked at you attentively, waiting for you to continue.

‘Well, I was just wondering… if you ever get scared. Out there.’ You gestured. You felt like the alcohol was impairing your ability to make conversation, but Abby didn’t seem to mind much.

‘Sure, I do. I think anyone who says they don’t is either a liar or a psychopath,’ the phrase rolled off her tongue like she’s had this conversation lot of times before. ‘But… I don’t know. It’s just something I do. Scars are always hostile, and trespassers are most of the time, too. I respect Isacc, and I think he respects me…’ she trailed off, frowning slightly, looking down at her hands.

‘And what, you think he’s like… a reasonable man?’

She cocked her eyebrow at you. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘Well, I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to go after regular people who might just need help,’

‘Well he let you in here, didn’t he?’ She took another sip of her drink, her expression unreadable.

‘I guess so.’ You frowned. An awkward pause lingered between you.

‘You must train like crazy,’ you say, slightly changing the subject, sensing her mind was racing with unwanted thoughts at the previous the line of conversation.

‘Well, yeah, it’s tough. But I like it. You don’t do any other training? Just cardio?’ she asked curiously.

‘Nah. I keep it simple, to be honest. I know it’s never bad to get a little stronger, I just wouldn’t know where to start with all of the weights. I know how to fight, obviously…’

‘I could train you,’ she put the offer out there casually, simply. Like it was an inevitability for you both.

‘You just wanna see me embarrass myself, don’t you?’

‘Not at all. Unless you’re into that…’

You shove her lightly, a blush threatening to bloom in your face. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Sorry. You’re just fun to tease.’ She laughed, laying back and putting her hands behind her head. Her fingers brushed something soft behind the couch cushions.

‘What’s this?’ she pulled out a small, worn stuffed animal, it resembled a lamb, or maybe a goat? She couldn’t tell due to its ragged state.

‘Oh… that’s nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s mine— my toy. Not toy, well, from when I was a kid…’ You trailed off in your tipsy state, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or tears at your flustered explanation.

You looked up at Abby, and she had her eyes on you. They were soft, fond. You noticed her blue irises ran almost honey-coloured closer to the pupil, her thick lashes perfectly framing her pretty eye shape. She had a smile spread across her face. You untensed your shoulders a little, shaking your head and laying against the pillows, smiling.

‘Don’t judge me,’ you said in a drawn out and strained voice, grinning nonetheless, poking a finger at her side.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ she teased, but her eyes shone with an earnestness that made your smile falter. You studied her face a little more as a comfortable silence fell over the room. You suddenly felt extremely aware of how close you were to her. She smelled good, warm, earthy. Like pine. You felt your teeth graze your lower lip inadvertently, looking at her… she was perfect. Her mouth, her bumped nose, her build. The scars that settled themselves on different parts of her body, like they were meant to be there — lightening streaking a thunderous sky — reminders of the fight in her. Though this juxtaposed her softer features – her freckles, her otherwise smooth skin – they somehow perfectly coincided. It made her complete, it made her Abby, you thought, your hazy mind laughing at your silly drunken clichés.

‘What’s his name?’

‘…Doobie. Don’t ask,’

She looked like she struggled refraining herself from laughing, but she managed. ‘You’re definitely telling me that story one day.’

She broke eye contact, placing your stuffie back between the cushions, patting them lightly. ‘There, safe and sound.’

You felt your eyelids growing soft and sleepy as you lay curled up on the couch, watching her.

‘You tired?’ She asked, appraising your cosy position. ‘I should get going…’

‘Wait, Abby—’ You rested a hand on her forearm. She waited. A beat of silence. ‘Just…stay for a little more.’ Your cheeks burned at the unchecked vulnerability, but you couldn’t have cared less about being subtle in that moment.

She looked down at your hand, perplexed, but didn’t attempt to get up again, yet. ‘Okay.’

She sat back, laying her head on the couch cushions for a while, pondering. She enjoyed listening to your breathing grow slow and rhythmic. Your hand was warm. When she dared turn to look at you again, your eyes were fully closed, lips slightly parted. She gently took your hand off her arm and got up as slowly as she could.

‘C’mon, sleepyhead.’ She spoke softly, gently pushing her arms underneath your slumbering frame and lifting you. She angled you into her chest so that your neck didn’t move so much as to wake you, and she carried you over to your bed.

Once she placed you down and covered you with the blanket, something flared in her chest. Likened to anxiety, but difficult to unthread properly in her mind. She looked at you for a moment longer, tenderly moving away a piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes. She then stood back up to her full height, sighing lightly as she turned to leave, not looking back as she closed the door quietly behind her.  

© all work on this page belongs to abbyscoins — please do not translate, use AI on, or repost my work!

It was all well and good to have saved you from Scars, that was fair game. Good conscience preserved for one more day. But what she wasn’t expecting were the recurring images in her mind: of the way you clung to life, of the way you clung to her, of your eyes. When she had jogged over to you, hyperaware of the scene around her, she had knelt in front of you, dipping her head to check your face, unsure if you were alive in your slumped-over state, blood soaking your front. But you jolted from the touch. Your eyes turned wild. She stood, then, looking down at you, heart racing. Abby wasn’t one to be very easily startled, much less one who doesn’t know the first step in figuring out a solution, but for a moment, she was alarmed, and she had no idea what to do about you.

You, and your gleaming eyes. She noticed other things about you, of course. Like how your tear-streaked face was gaunt, the blood loss rendering you a frightening colour. How you gripped the arrow sticking out of you, like you wanted to pull it out, but didn’t have the heart to. How you kept mumbling something, over, and over, and over. It plagued her in a strange way, tugging at her heart, like tweezers pulling out stitches from a healing wound.

She felt silly. She knew it was a guilt thing, that your face would haunt her if she hadn’t fought for it. If she hadn’t yelled for Manny, him immediately responding to her call along with a few of the others, rushing over after dealing with the threat. If she hadn’t argued… God.

She didn’t want to think about that right now. After seeing you in the gym, her head was swimming even more. You were different to how she had expected. Observing you every now and then, she thought you comparable to a mouse in nature. Anxious, skittish. Someone who was too scared to remove the arrow from their body. The kind of person who, when faced with a problem too great, would crumble. Your nervous nature didn’t deter her; it was sort of sweet, in a way. It reminded her of someone she’d like to protect, of someone who deserved to be protected. But now, she realised she had gotten you wrong. And she was confused.

She felt stupid for judging you too soon. Of course you were going to be shaken up for a while. That doesn’t mean your response to the trauma was the essence of you. Maybe she had just wanted to fill the void of mystery surrounding you with something tangible. Or maybe she was just bored and desperately needed to switch up her routine from now on.

The playful glint in your eyes. Your rebuttal. Your kind expression. Your fingers brushing hers…

She shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, it was so ridiculous.

Abby turned around, letting the water run into her cupped hands and splashed her face with it. She grabbed her shampoo and began working it into her scalp with her strong fingers, sighing as she massaged. It felt good to release the pressure of her thoughts from her temples. As she rinsed, she made up her mind. She felt uncomfortable with herself, thinking this obsessively for no good reason. She would leave you alone. No – wait. If you came to her. Yes, if you came to her, she would be open to beginning a friendship with you, of course she would. But she didn’t want to feel like a creep, or make you feel like you owe her anything. She wouldn’t bother you unless you came to her.

The next few days were tedious, to say the least. You had been put on the dinner shift, which meant you were up late, and you always found it hard to settle down when you got back to your room. You had so much on your mind. Between forming a steady routine and forcing yourself to be more social with others, you were making progress. Slowly but surely. Still, the nagging feeling kept at you; something felt out of place.

You had ventured into the gym one morning to see if you could catch a glimpse of Abby, but she wasn’t there. You weren’t sure why you thought she would be, or why you felt a pang of disappointment that she wasn’t. You weren’t sure, either, why you expected her to talk to you again in the following days.

You had served her in the dinner line one day; you looked up to see her eyes averted, tapping her thumbs on her tray. You watched the veins in her forearms tense with the movement. You wanted to ask her what was wrong, but you thought better of it. Who were you to assume there was anything the matter? You didn’t know her like that. What if it bothered her, you asking? She gave you a gentle nod in acknowledgement, thanked you, then made her way to her table.

It was strange. She had seemed so… friendly – or at least courteous – in the gym that morning. Had you been imagining it? Was she just having a particularly good day, or did she feel sorry for you, all pathetic and dumb trying to work the machine she could probably turn on in her sleep?

Was this even about you? People do have lives outside of their relation to you. Maybe she was just going through her own shit. Either way, you weren’t sure it was something you’d ever get to find out. You felt that if you dared to seek her out one more time, looking for her at the gym, or in the dinner line, or out around the grounds, or in the library… you would regret it. Your head told you that she saw something that she didn’t like in you, and to just forget about it. You had plenty choice of prospective friends here, and you didn’t need to worry yourself with a barely-there encounter. Your heart, on the other hand, told you something was amiss. The old you would have wanted to get to the bottom of it. But you had learned it was better if you keep to yourself here. Don’t create issues where there didn’t need to be any. Everyone was on top of their shit here – focused. So, you would learn to be, too.

You met someone out on the track one warmer spring morning. A lean woman with sparkling dark eyes and a killer PR; she had asked you to time her lap as you were sitting tying your shoelaces. She introduced herself as Nora, and you introduced yourself back, grabbing the stopwatch she handed you and asking what buttons you were supposed to press. She found that amusing, patiently showing you how to work it.

After timing her for a couple of laps, each time standing in awe at the way she made ease of the fast pace, she would return and huff at the time you gave her.

‘One more, one more,’ she would bargain between catching her breath, ‘I promise I’ll leave you alone soon and let you run. Do you have anywhere to be? I just need to beat this time,’

You assured her it was fine, that you didn’t mind helping. Honestly, you were just happy to be chatting with another woman close to your age; someone who seemed motivated, but relaxed and fun in nature. It felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the other personalities you’d been confronted with here, so far. She ran around once more, beating her record by some silly 0.01 of a percentage, and that seemed good enough for her, for now.

‘You wanna go around together for a turn? A jog to warm you up? I’ve gotta head in soon, I work at 8. Medic. But I wanna talk a little more, don’t want you to think I just used you as my personal trainer,’ She joked.

‘Sure,’ You agreed, handing her the stopwatch which she threw on top of her bag, and you began to jog together at a slow pace.

As you jogged around the track, you thought about asking about her job here, what it was like to take care of so many injured, but she continued to make conversation before you could.

‘You know,’ she started, somehow breathing with ease after her insane cardio mission, ‘You’re a lot different than I thought. I know we haven’t exactly spoken yet, but I’ve seen you around. You’re actually pretty chill up close and personal,’

‘Uh, thanks?’ You let out an amused laugh. You admired her brutal honestly, even if it was a backhanded way to say that you looked awkward as fuck in public. ‘I’ve gotten that a couple times here, actually. I’ve just been trying to keep myself to myself.’

‘Mm… keep to yourself, huh? Reminds me of someone,’ She smirked, side-eyeing you slightly, but not elaborating further.

‘Who?’ You frowned, looking at her now.

‘Oh, nothing to worry your pretty head about,’ She elbowed you lightly.

‘C’mon, who do you mean?’ You could tell she was baiting you for something, so you played along. It was strange how easily you became comfortable with Nora. She was friendly, energetic. She loosely reminded you of someone, someone you’d rather not think too deeply about for fear of cracking straight down the middle, but the vague resemblance in temperament lingered in the back of your mind, and you warmed up to her quickly.

‘My friend Abby can be like that. Y’know, keeps to herself, I guess. Kind of.’

Shock passed over your features for a second at the name. A beat of silence passed, and you swallowed, composing yourself.

‘Oh, Abby, yeah. Tall, blonde braid? That who you’re talking about?’

‘Yes, that Abby… Okay fine. I’ll admit I just wanted to bring her up to you,’

‘Oh…’ What was this ambush suddenly happening? You began to think that this was why she kept you for a longer talk, and you wished you had just told her you were going to stretch for a while first. ‘Yeah?’ You muttered. You tried not to slow your pace, tried not to show you were affected by the sudden mention of her, but you felt conflict rise in your chest again.

You had spent the past week trying to forget about Abby. Every time she crossed your mind, you shoved the thought down and buried yourself in another activity. Work, reading, exercise, hell, you even tried meditation.

Cross-legged, back straight, eyes closed: Clear your mind… Think of… nothing? Breathing? Impossible. You ended up tidying and organising the entire room before being able to fall asleep.

Eventually, after a few nights of being close to pulling your hair out over her, you began to think about her less frequently. Going from wondering what she was doing, picturing conversations with her, imagining bumping into her, talking, laughing, touching… to only thinking of her in smaller, briefer images. Her eyes scrunching when she smiled. Her braid falling over her shoulder as she bent down to flip the switch, bent down to see if you were breathing. Her warm hands.

You couldn’t help that you were attracted to her. I mean, she was beautiful. But she wouldn’t be into you like that. It was a stupid, infantile crush that you had on her, maybe some sort of subconscious gratitude for her being on the team that saved you. You needed to shake it.

‘Yeah. I saw you talking in the gym, it got me curious. If you’re interesting enough to have Anderson interested in talking to you, then I wanna see what that’s about,’ She seemed nonchalant, shaking her head with a laugh. Your shoulders relaxed a little, feeling less like you were going to trip over your own feet. So, Abby hadn’t mentioned you. Nora was just nosy.

‘Oh, that? She was just helping me work the stupid treadmill. Gadgets,’ You huffed, forcing a perplexed look, comically hitting your palm briefly to your forehead.

Nora threw her head back with a laugh, ‘Should’ve guessed that! You don’t even know how to use a stopwatch with like, three buttons!’

‘Yeah, alright, alright. Ha-ha.’ You grinned, nudging your new friend.

You slowly came to a halt back at the start of the track. Nora grabbed her canteen for a sip of water as you stretched out your hamstrings, getting ready to continue at a faster pace.

‘Alright, I’ll get going. Hey, thanks for the help. It was good to meet you,’

‘You too, Nora. I’ll see you around?’

‘Yeah! – Hey, actually, there’s a party, tonight. One of the guys is finally being cleared for patrol again after a major injury, so it’s a thing, I guess. Any excuse. You should come,’

‘Oh, uh, sure! Where’s it at?’ You were caught off guard by the invitation, but you worked the lunch shift today, so you got off well before tonight.

‘An empty ward we’ve been refurbishing – extra space for patients. I may have pulled some strings,’ She gave you a comical wink, and then rolled her eyes at her own gesture. ‘It’s on the first floor. Come, if you want. No pressure,’

‘Okay,’ You shared a gentle nod with her, smiling. She picked up her things and hurried off, leaving you to ponder what you would do about tonight.

© all work on this page belongs to abbyscoins — please do not translate, use AI on, or repost my work!

You hadn’t felt this upset or anxious in days. Things had been getting better here in Seattle, or so you’d tried to convince yourself. Once you had received your work assignment, you had been befriended by another member of kitchen staff, Polly, albeit quite intensely. She was nearing elderly, strands of greying dark curls sprouting wildly from her scalp, mother-like in her tendency to coddle, and she took you under her wing.

‘That poor lost lamb,’ she had muttered to herself under her breath when she first saw you timidly shuffle in through those squeaky double doors of the mess hall.

‘Hey, you there!’ She scurried over.

‘C’mere. Lemme get a good look at ya,’ She had taken you by the shoulders and pulled you gently round so that the fluorescents were lighting your sullen features. You hadn’t quite known how to react, not enjoying being touched, tense and weary, but something about her demeanour seemed so harmless that you couldn’t protest. Not that you would’ve, back then – you were too overwhelmed to say one word out of line for the first few weeks– only mumbling in short, direct answers when spoken to.

‘There, now,’ She squinted her hazel eyes, crowsfeet deepening, appraising you. Your eyes went wide with confusion, darting from hers to the door, back to her, then to the floor, highly uncomfortable.

‘Yep, just as I thought!’ She beamed with pride, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out a tape measure, but as she went to touch you again, she noticed you flinch. She paused, seemingly collecting herself with a short, chesty laugh.

‘Ah, sorry, darlin’… Ol’ Polly’s always getting ahead of herself. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Just seein’ what— or who I’m workin’ with.’  You found it odd, but she was not exactly off-putting. You thought it weird she needed to analyse you just because you were working together, she’d have plenty of time to see you during meal prep hours over the next however many months. You assumed the tape measure was for your uniform. She most likely didn’t know that the lady who told you of your assignment also brought you a pile of ill-fitting work clothes. Plain black t-shirts and baggy cargos, some hairnets and caps, as well as a few stained aprons adorned with varying degrees of obnoxious patterns.

‘It’s okay,’ you offered, attempting a small smile, gently stepping back a pace and wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling vulnerable. She perked up again, returning your gesture with a gummy smile of her own.

Since then, you had gotten used to her forwardness. As days, and then weeks went by, you warmed up to her unusual personality. She loosely reminded you of someone, someone you’d rather not think too deeply about for fear of cracking straight down the middle, but the vague resemblance in temperament lingered in the back of your mind. She was attentive in your training, insisting on being the one to guide you in most things, praising you when you did well, and then tutting fondly at your mistakes before snapping the directions at you one more time.

One afternoon, after the lunch rush, you had been collecting and stacking dirty trays by the basins when Polly called you over.

‘C’mere, duck. Got somethin’ for ya,’ She reached into her apron pocket and produced a set of tiny hairclips in three different shades of blue.

‘Noticed ya hair gets in ya face after a long shift. Thought these might be of use to ya,’ She handed the row of clips to you. You looked closer at them.

‘Thank you, Polly. These are… really cute,’ You smiled at her. You knew you would wear them when she would be around to see, heart warmed just to have been thought of, but they were not exactly something you would usually choose to wear. You felt a pang of something painful in your chest. Having someone take care of you again – notice things about you, as small as wisps of hair getting in your eyes – it was a strange feeling. You thanked her again, tucking the clips into your apron pocket and patting the indent where they lay, smiling softly. You were touched by the sentiment, and hopeful that you were taking steps towards feeling more like yourself, again.

‘So, Polly definitely made you her new little project, huh?’

‘…Excuse me?’ you questioned, immediately uncomfortable with the sudden interaction at the dining table. It was your day off, and you didn’t usually eat in the mess hall; you preferred to take your meal away to a quiet spot outside and eat in peace. But today, you had decided to sit at a table indoors.

It was raining out, and you had been feeling like isolating maybe wasn’t the best way to move forward here. So, even if you didn’t talk to anyone, sitting in the busy hall would make you feel closer to being part of a community. Despite your desire to just wrap your food in a napkin and take it up to your room, you took a breath and sat a little way down from another group of people, eating and chatting loudly amongst themselves.

The man who accosted you looked vaguely familiar, you thought he was one of the men who brought you here. Scanning a quick look over at his friends confirmed this memory, noticing the tall man with dark features who had helped lift you from the roadside, smirking at the two of you in amusement.

‘Let the newbie eat her burrito, man,’ He chuckled, an accent lacing his words.

The girl was also there. Your heart made an irregular beat when your eyes landed on her; she had an intriguing physicality that made you want to stare. Her face had a young essence, soft eyebrows knitted together in a seemingly permanent scowl of concentration, her light eyes cast down, a soft pout playing on her lips as she scooped up another spoonful of rice and beans. Yes – her face looked sweet – almost innocent in certain lighting. However, she was impressively built, significantly more muscular than most of the men sat around her. Her frame was broad, intimidating, her grey tank top hanging onto her rounded shoulders, like the silks on a Greek marble statue. You recognised her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a neat braid that fell down her back.

She felt you staring, a burning sensation on her skin, and she looked up at you, unsmiling, curious. You quickly looked away, realising you had spent too long appraising her. You chided yourself in your mind. You recalled, then, her imposing figure towering over you, backlit by white sky, her braid falling over her shoulder, expression contorted with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, overcome with dizziness from the blood loss.

‘Y’know,’ The man closest beside you started again, chewing obnoxiously as he spoke, gesturing to you with an outstretched hand. He reached over to lightly tap at the clip in your hair with a finger. ‘Her pet. Her newest plaything—’

‘Jordan, knock it off.’ The girl spoke lowly, not looking at you, but rolling her eyes at the man. He put his hands up in defence.

‘I’m just sayin’, Abby. That lady always does this with the newcomers. Always! Her weird little trinkets, I’m telling you,’

‘No one cares about your conspiracy theories, man.’ The guy with the accent responded, nudging the girl in jest, earning no response from her.

‘What’s got you all stone-faced, Abs?’ He questioned, less enthusiastic now, feigning offence at her not joining him in his teasing.

‘Nothing. You guys are just driving me crazy today.’ She mumbled, sighing and rolling her shoulders, then turning her focus back to her plate. The dark-featured man shrugged off her attitude and continued eating, himself.

No more was said to you, the group seemingly forgetting your existence at the table with rapid speed. All except one, the girl they called Abby, who spared a couple of quick glances over at you during the next ten minutes while you cowered in your seat. You took pathetic little bites of your food, having lost your appetite, as well as any yearning you may have been accumulating for human interaction. This wasn’t like you. For something so juvenile to affect you like this. But you were exhausted. You were hurting. All the suffering over the last few weeks, not just the mourning, but being the new girl somewhere again. It was all too much; you could never have predicted things would go this way.

You began to feel overwhelmed, and a pressure began building in your chest. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to cry or panic in front of so many people. So, you sat, ridged, breathing heavily for a moment, staring down at your hands. A couple of people sitting closest to you hushed, noticing your change in breathing and started looking at you. This caught on quickly.

You heard the girl’s voice mutter, ‘Manny,’ as she elbowed the man next to her, his billowing laugh subsiding as he followed Abby’s concerned gaze. He frowned for a moment.

‘Qué pasa, cariño? You okay?’ He asked, an edge of genuine worry in his voice. You looked up at him, eyes wide, hands clammy and shaking as you rushed a nod and stood up. You clumsily grabbed your tray and pack, throwing your food in the trash as you speed-walked out of the cafeteria and through the halls to the stairs, tears already threatening to escape.

You refused until you were in the confines of your room, only then would you cry.

The next morning, your eyes stung as you slowly came into consciousness, distant sounds of birds chirping indicating the early hour. You rubbed your eyes, sighing deeply and stretching your stiff limbs out, star-fishing as wide as was possible in your cramped bunk. You slept surprisingly well, the day before having knocked you into the deepest sleep you’d managed to get in a long time. Usually, your sleep was light, restless, peppered with bad dreams. You’ve had a few night terrors since being here; the same dream in all of them.

You’re crouched behind a moss-ridden brick wall, shallow breaths coming quick, panic setting in. You catch their glinting eyes from across the opening, their expression mirroring the same bewilderment as your own. You had both heard the whistle, both seen the three of them bounding in through the gap in the fence, bows loaded, intense eyes transfixed in your direction. Shit. You weren’t sure what was going on, brain fuzzy with exhaustion – when you had reached this part of town, you’d began seeing some strange things that made you think better of settling down here to rest – but if you were tired, then God knows how your best friend felt.

Their death was always different. Whether they got shot through the eye, smashed in the skull with a hammer, one time they even got their neck broken, the light leaving their eyes as you gasped and wailed. Whichever way it was, they always died – brutally – and you were left, slumped down, blood blooming through your t-shirt around the arrow in your abdomen, watching, helpless.

You wake before the gunshots commence. Always before – if they were ever even going to come — completely alone.

You screamed yourself awake from those ones, soaked in sweat, tears streaming down your face, breathless. Oddly enough, those nightmares always come when you’re more relaxed before you sleep; your subconscious punishing you for momentarily letting the guilt subside to just slightly less than unbearable.

Despite your decent rest last night, your body still felt tired. However, crying yourself to sleep was strangely cathartic, and your heart felt lighter, today. You sat yourself up on your elbows, looking around your small room. Sunlight trickled in through the cracked blinds, casting shadows over the hardwood floors. You knew that people gossiped about how you ended up with your own room. Most people have to share a bigger room, but your nightmares were disturbing enough that your first roommate had complained so much about not getting enough sleep for training within the first week, that you were begrudgingly moved to a newly empty single unit. Apparently, it had belonged to a soldier who had recently, and unfortunately, met their fate against a ‘Scar’, as they called them, out on patrol.

‘Everyone gets nightmares. Who does she think she is? The queen of fuckin’ England? I’ve been here years, and I haven’t gotten half the privilege she has.’

Issac didn’t often react kindly to stragglers, so most people hadn’t the faintest idea why he was being so lenient, nor why the group of patrollers who found you had taken such pity on you, enough to haul you back across town to the medics and have them fix you up. You remember the faintest fragments of conversation while you were in and out of consciousness, lying up against the concrete, hand weakly holding the arrow piercing through you… A woman and a man arguing, one of the other men telling them to stop, a crash, and then the next thing you knew you were in a truck. Throttling around, sprawled across the laps of a couple of them, being held still as to not further injure yourself in your haze.

The gossip never really bothered you much; you had more dire issues to occupy your mind with. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and checked the time on your alarm clock: 7:35. You stood, making your way over to the kitchenette, stretching as you went. You decided you were going to grab some water, get changed and then head down to the mess hall. You had one more day off today; they had kept you on early shifts for a streak of days last week, which meant a 3AM call time to start making breakfast for the crews headed out early. That would have been fine, had you not had to cover your sick coworker’s lunch shifts, too. So, you were scheduled a couple days off to compensate.

It was bustling when you got down there, everyone clambering in line ready for their breakfast. You took one look at the crowd and turned right back around. Breakfast could wait. It’s served until 9:30 anyways, and you weren’t in the mood to be around that many people yet. Instead, you made your way to the gym. Running was your favourite way to release all the frustration that built up inside you. It reminded you that you have a functioning body, lungs that work, limbs that move, and that you’re grateful for it. Bitter about every other aspect of this life, but grateful to move freely through it, nonetheless. You preferred using the track – the fresh air always stinging so sweetly in your lungs as you made your laps – but you had to make do with the treadmill today, given the recent spell of bad weather flooding the track grounds.

The gym was quiet, most people having already gotten their early workout in before breakfast. You put your canteen down, stepping onto the treadmill, immediately frowning at the buttons in front of you. You cursed the rain for forcing you to face your technological ignorance head-on. You fiddled with the settings, thinking you set it up right, but the button to start the machine wasn’t working when you pressed it. You repeatedly slammed on the button, face contorted into a frustrated scowl, sighing deeply.

‘Might help if you actually turned the thing on,’ A smooth voice startled you from behind. You jumped and turned to see her – Abby – with a faint, teasing smirk on her face as she made her way around the machine. She placed a steady hand right next to yours on the treadmill for support as she leaned down and flicked a switch on the underside of the panel. The machine whirred to life. Her finger brushed yours as she pulled herself back up, and the soft touch sent an unexpected shiver through you. ‘Gotta conserve power, and all that. They ask that you keep things off when you’re not using ‘em.’

‘Oh… right, uh, thanks,’ You managed to say, your cheeks heating up. You were mentally facepalming as she nodded a you’re welcome, a slight mischief playing on her face as if she wanted to tease you for being incompetent, but not knowing you well enough to do so, for fear of coming across as rude or upsetting you. ‘Yeah, as you can tell I don’t usually come in here.’ You admit, looking away. Her presence was intense, keeping eye contact for too long would only make your blush worsen.

‘Hey, it’s all good. Everyone starts somewhere, right? If you tossed me an apron and told me to scrounge up a meal for hundreds of people, I’d be lost,’ She offered a small smile, and you let out a chuckle in response, looking her in the eye again for a moment and holding her stare. An awkward silence fell over you both.

‘You having a good workout?’ You asked, scanning the rest of the gym again, for the first time observing the different contraptions set up around the place. The frown returned to your face imagining trying to use any of it. Abby breathed heavily out of her nose in amusement at your expression.

‘Yeah, I’m just about done,’ She instinctively squeezed her arm around the bicep, briefly massaging the muscle. Your eyes wandered to her hand. There was a sheen to her skin where she had been sweating, her pale freckled shoulders out again, just like yesterday. You tried not to stare. Another beat of silence.

‘Look – I’m… I’m sorry you’ve been having a tough time settling in,’ She paused, seemingly having trouble knowing the right words to say to you. You shot your eyes back up to her face, surprised. The blush returned momentarily to your cheeks.

‘Noticed that, huh?’ You quipped, playing with your hands.

‘Well, I mean – yeah. Just… you know. I feel bad that you’re struggling.’ She seemed uncomfortable, unused to showing her sympathetic nature.

‘Thanks, Abby… I really appreciate it,’ Surprise briefly took her, like she didn’t know that you knew who she was, shocked to hear her name tumble so perfectly out of your mouth.

‘Yeah, just… if you need anything…’ She trailed off.

‘I’ll be sure to find you if I need any more help with electronics,’ You teased, your heart thrumming behind your chest. She smiled, awkwardly drumming her hands on the rail of the treadmill before pushing herself off and turning to leave.

‘I’ll see you around.’ She threw over her shoulder. You exchanged your goodbyes, turning back to the treadmill controls.

You felt a rush of emotion, warmth flooding through you. You weren’t expecting such a sweet interaction. You felt guilty that you hadn’t expected it from her, preexisting presumptions based on her hard outer shell getting the better of your judgement. Not that you had negative thoughts about her, in fact, it was quite the opposite. But she was quieter than you had expected. More shy, less imposing, an awkward charm lacing her disposition.

Your mind didn’t leave the conversation throughout your entire run, that morning.