#rot fic

birth

Sara was born in 1990. Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, her mother finally got to rest. The doctors cut the cord and held Sara up for everyone to see. They cleaned her up, wrapped her in a blanket, and her mother held her as she let out her first cry. Then her father had a turn. Then her older sister Anh, five years old at the time, tried to pick her up. Anh was afraid of holding something so small and fragile. Afraid of what it meant for her own future. But she was only five, and she couldn’t tell anyone, not even herself, that she felt that way.

blue world

They named her Liêm Tiên Hải Ngo and gave her a blue hat to protect her head. Her crib was lined with a soft, striped blue sheet. Her first stuffed animal was a little blue cat, hand-crocheted by her father’s mother and sent all the way from Vietnam. Her first belongings were all blue. She always looked like she was about to cry, but rarely did. 

Her first words were pink. Her sister’s name, cried out when Anh came home from school.

Her first haircut was done outside on a bright spring day, right before her first bee sting. Her first time smelling a flower. She stuck her whole head into the bush and the petals spread out to make room for her. The world opened up to tell her hello.

girlhood

Sara could never remember when she started feeling like Sara. But the older she got, the more she felt like her own skin didn’t fit her. The name Liêm burned her whenever she heard it spoken. In her head and in the mirror, she used her middle name instead. Tiên. In English it meant celestial being, fairy, immortal. It didn’t feel quite as bad.

She dreamed of growing up like her sister, letting her hair get long and tying it back with a bow. Wearing pink instead of blue. Spinning around in a skirt and watching it flare out around her legs. She made a wish before bed every night that she’d wake up as her real self. It never worked, but she never stopped wishing.

open the closet door

When she was older, Sara tried to tell her family that she wasn’t Liêm. After dinner, before they all went to their separate nightly routines, she sat at the table and looked them all in the eyes. Spilled the truth that had been eating away at her for years.

Her father asked why she’d play such a cruel joke on them all.

Her mother’s face turned cold and hard. “[No],” she’d said. “[You are my son, and you will never be anything else. You’re Liêm].” Anh couldn’t look at her. She stared at a crack in the table, tracing her finger over it.

Her parents told her to go to her room. Finish her homework. The next morning at breakfast, they barely spoke to her. They acted like it had never happened at all.

Every time Sara looked at herself in the mirror, she felt her throat closing up. It never changed, no matter what she told herself. If you just look longer, you’ll get used to it. Everyone wants you to be this. Can’t you do just one thing for them?

The harder she tried, the more she knew the answer was no.

hidden

Anh told Sara one night she’d always wanted a sister. She promised not to call her Liêm as much as she could. When their parents couldn’t hear, she used Sara’s middle name. It was better than the one that burned, but it didn’t feel so celestial anymore.

Sara’s best friend in high school called her Tiên too. Tala let her borrow dresses or do her makeup when they hung out, but Sara was too afraid to ever wear them in public. Someone who knew her parents might see. It suffocated her to keep everything secret, but whenever she was with Tala it was a tiny breath of air. Enough to keep her going until the next day.

Her grandma, her mother’s mother, knew she had two granddaughters and no grandson. She picked Sara and Anh up after school once a week to take them to their music lessons in Hazelwood. She called Sara by her middle name and treated her like a girl, and promised Mom and Dad would never know. 

anh

She was never good enough for her parents. Anh was always better. And she was such a disgrace for wanting to be Sara instead of Liêm. 

They were both in music lessons from a young age: Sara learning piano, and Anh learning clarinet. Anh hated it, but she only complained in secret. Sara loved it. She poured all of herself into the music. It was the only thing she did that wasn’t a disappointment to her parents, but piano alone didn’t satisfy them.

Sports, on the other hand, were terrible. She’d never been very athletic. And Anh, of course, exceeded expectations. It always happened and Sara could never get used to it.

Anh got better grades. She always knew the right thing to say. She made sure her friends were the right kind of people. And perhaps what set them apart the most, she never thought she wanted to be a boy. She never considered being anything other than what their parents wanted.

Sara avoided Anh, for the most part. They didn’t talk. They didn’t play games together or steal each other’s clothes or take turns picking snacks in the grocery store like they had when they were younger. Anh always called her Tiên when their parents weren’t around, but it did nothing to help. Sara still felt like she was drowning. There wasn’t anything either of them could do.

Anh was getting ready to graduate. She’d been accepted to the pre-med program at Washington University (in St. Louis). She’d been offered scholarships. Their parents were so proud. Their daughter was going to become a doctor, maybe a surgeon. Even a nurse would be acceptable.

Sara was left alone in that house where nobody could look at her. She hated Anh for leaving. Of course she never said a word out loud. But she shut herself down, stayed in her room, made excuses for why she never texted or called. Pretended she didn’t have a sister at all.

reach out

Some of Sara’s classmates knew about her. They listened too hard with ears that were too big to things that were none of their business. Some of them were waiting after school. They stopped her before she got to the bus. They dragged her into an alley.

She yelled and they tried to cover her mouth. She bit them. She thrashed around, hitting whatever she could, kicking her heels into their shins. They twisted her arm behind her back, bent her fingers the wrong way until she screamed. Her face scraped the ground and the gravel poked into her skull. They ran. She lay still, trying to remember how to breathe.

A teacher found her. She was sent to the hospital. They called her parents, who said they would come. She called her parents, and they told her they were far too busy. They said she could figure it out, and they would deal with her when she got home.

She didn’t want to cry. There were too many people around. She sat very still for a long time, going back and forth in her head. It smelled terrible. She wished to be anywhere but there, but not home either. She’d be in so much trouble. She didn’t know how to answer the questions she’d be asked. She couldn’t figure it out by herself. Hospital bills, explaining what happened, apologizing over and over..

Her mouth went dry waiting for the phone to ring. She thought about hanging up. Her sister was busy. Her sister was in school. Her parents would find out and then she’d be in even more trouble for interrupting Anh’s studies. But the call connected and she was so afraid of being alone. She sounded like a kicked puppy, begging her sister to come.

Anh was there in twenty minutes.

She pestered the nurses for information and once they told her, relayed to Sara exactly what was happening. She sat on the edge of the bed until someone brought her a chair. She took hold of Sara’s hand, squeezed it, and refused to let go. Even after they were allowed to go home.

Anh kept Sara by her side as they left the hospital. They’d still barely talked to each other. Not a word was spoken on the bus ride home. But Anh kept hold of Sara’s hand, and it meant everything. [I’m sorry. I’ve got you. I’m here now].

Anh tucked Sara into bed and told her not to think about their parents for now. [Don’t worry, Tiên. Just rest].

She got up to leave, but Sara pulled her back. She missed her sister so much. She didn’t want to let go of the only hand that promised never to hurt her.

Anh squeezed her wrist again, as gently as she could. She sat down on the floor by Sara’s bed and let her hold on.

Before she drifted off, Sara saw Anh start to cry.

sara

Sara was given her name a week after her birthday. 

She went out with Anh and Tala to the thrift store with the big changing rooms and they tried on the silliest outfits they could find. Tala bought Sara a skirt and a sweater to wear for dinner, and Anh found a flowery hairclip at the 99-cent store. They went to Sephora and convinced Tala’s friend to do everyone’s makeup at a discount.

Over dinner at her favorite restaurant, Anh kept looking at Sara. Studying her. She whispered to Tala and Tala whispered back, and after their plates had been cleared away, the secret was finally revealed.

When Sara heard her name for the first time, it felt like coming home.

Tiên had lost its sparkle. It held the same meaning, but even thinking it felt strained. Like a dream that could never be reached.

Sara fit so nicely inside her. It felt like crossing a threshold. The beginning of something that would last.

college

Sara went to WashU, just like her sister. She studied music and art history. She got as many scholarships as she could, but her parents wouldn’t give her a dime. So she worked. She worked herself to the bone, balancing classes and jobs and living off of energy drinks and estrogen, but she truly loved it. For once in her life, she wanted to keep living.

She moved in with Anh and they split the rent. It was cheaper than the dorms. Her grandma sent her money under the table. It was never easy, but it was better than before. 

becoming

When she went to college, she didn’t have to please her parents anymore. She stopped cutting her hair. She didn’t tell anyone her old name. She donated all her old clothes and shopped for new ones in the women’s section. She started HRT and went into puberty for the second time.

Slowly, she was able to look in the mirror again. Her hands didn’t have the constant urge to close around her throat and squeeze. She learned how to do her makeup and couldn’t help but smile at her new self. Her real self. Sara.

seafood city

She got a second job off campus, stocking shelves at the grocery store she went to nearly every week. Just a couple blocks down from school and the Delmar Loop, reachable by bike or bus. She cut open boxes of dried shrimp, rearranged the instant noodle aisle, and pushed around a pallet cart of huge bags of rice. 

Sometimes she saw her parents come in for their weekly shopping. She tried her best to avoid them. She didn’t want to hear whatever they might have to say. If they recognized her.

Once she heard them approaching her while she was stocking cut melons. She was on her knees, rearranging the bottom shelf. She kept herself still, her breathing even, refusing to look up. And they walked right past her.

Being unrecognizable to them was more affirming than any dose of her hormones. She was her own woman. She belonged to no one but herself.

promotion

She kept working at Seafood City after she graduated. In 2019, she was promoted to manager. Her grandmother embroidered her a sweater for the occasion. The store’s logo and name on the front, and on the back its slogan: Fresh. Live. Seafood. She only wore it to work, but it made her feel special.

By then it was her only job. She still shared the apartment with Anh, who worked nights in the university hospital’s emergency room. They visited their grandma every other week. Sara did the grocery shopping after her shift, taking full advantage of her employee discount. She and Anh shared meals whenever they could. They relied on each other. Held each other up when things got hard. Seafood City was struggling, but Sara kept herself hard at work. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

final day

Sara went to work on March 30, 2023, like usual. It was windy. She wore her sweater because she couldn’t get rid of the chills. The bad feeling deep in her stomach.

That morning the health department came. They brought city code enforcement with them. The staff were ordered to clear out. Condemned signs were slapped on the door. No one was to come back inside.

Sara stood in the back room as their footsteps faded away, staring wide-eyed at all the stock. At the leaking ceiling. All the problems she couldn’t fix. Wondering if there was some last-ditch effort she could make to save the place. Knowing deep inside that it had been too late for a long time.

rotting

She never made it back outside. 

She lay on the dirty floor, staring up at the ceiling as if it would tell her the solution. She laid still until her eyes closed, letting the dirty water drip onto her, welcoming the mold inside. She began to decay with the building around her, unable to wake up.

The rotting seafood took over her body and brought her to life once more. And she wasn’t the only one. Phillip didn’t make it out either. He’d worked behind the fishmonger’s counter, chopping off heads and clearing scales. Called Shrimp because at 4’11 he was almost too short for the job. Now he trudged along with a mop, blind and nearly mute, a slimy fish-head where his skull had been. He kept to himself. Sara felt sick looking at him. If only she could’ve seen herself.

And there was Vex. He was almost all fish. He stood on two legs and had working hands, but he had gills and scales and a head that was in no way human. A hard, cracked fin instead of hair. He told Sara he was the store. He hated her. He was terribly ill and couldn’t go a few hours without throwing up, sometimes even less. Sometimes he couldn’t get up off the floor. Sara did her best to take care of him, to clean up his mess when he couldn’t, knowing it was her job. She was still the manager. He was still the store.

Sara looked the most human of them all. She wandered with squid and octopus clinging to her, drenching her in dirty sludge, spreading mold through her insides. Lobster antennae stuck out from her forehead and a tail dragged behind her feet. One hand turned into tentacles, the other fell off in a pile of guts. Her limbs ached and it never went away.

fog

The fog in her brain was so thick. All she was sure of was herself, and even that wasn’t much. She knew she was Sara. She knew it was her job to keep the store, and Vex, from getting any worse. She knew what the store was and what was happening to it. But all the other things, the bits and pieces that make someone a someone, she couldn’t hold onto them. She couldn’t remember her favorite food, her favorite color, her favorite song. She didn’t remember that she had a sister, or a grandma, or parents who refused to speak with her. Even if she’d had the strength and courage to break out and run away, she wouldn’t have remembered how to get home.

Sometimes Vex reminded her. He knew too much about her. He’d seen her walking through the store with her family when she was only ten, and he’d remembered her every year after that. He would remind her who she was connected to, but only in tiny sentences spit through gritted teeth. And every image he brought to the surface faded back into the fog.

aero

A mad scientist walked into the store one day. He found Sara in the back, trying to keep Vex from choking on vomit. She was so lost, she couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t right in front of her.

Aero said he was from the future. He said he could give her somewhere comfortable to stay. He said there were others like her, people who died and decayed and woke up again in their abandoned stores. He said they could all work at a new store, together. He said he could help Vex get better.

She went with him through a door into an old house. Aero said it was in another world. She carried Vex into an office and laid him down on Aero’s bed, and Aero promised everything would get better from there.

He lied.

work

She kept it together for a long time. Took care of Vex and tried to protect him through Aero’s meddling. Made sure to remember Phillip, who refused to go through the door. Kept the Rot Market running to Aero’s standards and made sure everyone’s jobs were getting done. He’d made her manager of the little store, a role she knew well, and even through the fog she refused to let the quality of her work slip. She didn’t sleep. It felt like she didn’t need to. She drifted along, doing as she was expected, her tangled mess of thoughts fading away if she tried to hold on too tight. The others didn’t seem as lost as her, except maybe Lucia. They all kept to their own jobs. Sara filled in wherever she was needed.

vex

Vex got used to Sara after a while. She was always by his side when she wasn’t working. It must have been like a “mother”. He grew to relax against her touch, to let her hold him up when he couldn’t sit on his own. He trusted her more than Aero, but part of him always wished she could do more.

Sara was bound to him. He was still the store. She was still the manager. Vex was her responsibility and she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t hate him like she thought, but it wasn’t quite “love”. 

But even if she did have a choice, she would’ve stayed by his side.

reese

Sara didn’t sleep. Most of the time, Reese didn’t either. They were hypervigilant, always on the lookout for the next bad thing. The quiet of the house at night made them uneasy. They wandered around, the floorboards creaking under them, always ending up in the living room to stare through the window at the moon. Sometimes Sara was there too.

She laid on her back in the square of light from the window, looking from the ceiling to the sky. Reese curled up closer and closer to her each night, until they rolled over and pressed their back into her side. Sara didn’t move. She heard Reese start to snore. They were still a child. They needed the rest more than anyone.

period

The Rot gave Sara a third kind of puberty. Every month she laid down and couldn’t get up, suddenly immobilized by a thick sludge of fish guts and ceiling water. The tentacles on her hand swelled with mold and the squid on her torso sent painful shocks through her skin. The other Rotlings dragged her to the window where the sun came in, stretching her out like a cat and leaving her to sweat it out. 

Pan Dulce purrs softly, sleepily, her thick fur shedding into Lucia’s mouth. She closes her eyes, but the persistent headache doesn’t go away.

She has to go to work. The room sways when she gets up, and she takes a moment to steady herself. Pan Dulce meows from her spot on the bed. It’s mid-May in Fort Worth, but Lucia shivers. Her fingers twitch as she fastens her bra and pulls down a dark blue dress from the closet. She always feels a little better once she’s dressed.

Inés is asleep on the couch when she goes into the living room. Pan Dulce is on Lucia’s heels the entire time, pawing at her socks as she stops to put on shoes. Pan meows again, in the most pathetic voice Lucia’s ever heard, and she wishes she could stay home and cuddle with her cat.

But that’s just not an option. If she doesn’t work, she’ll never make it back to El Paso.

Lucia gets to the store right on time. She waves a greeting to her manager, Harriet, and takes her usual place in the snack aisle with a cart full of boxes. Her fingers are still twitching. Head still aches. Her grip on the boxcutter slips several times before she gets through the first little bit of tape, and she drags the blade sluggishly along.

She moves too much and her head spins. And it still hurts.

She’s so dizzy.

She can still feel where his hands were. The pressure when he pushed her. The exact spot on her head where it hit the concrete.

She opens another box and rearranges Lay’s chips on the third shelf. A child rushes past her, followed by a scolding mother, and she loses her balance. Just for a second. Long enough that she holds the shelf in a death grip, softly crashing into it, trying to stay upright.

There are more footsteps. She can’t see who it is. She reaches for another box, carefully opening it and prying the bags of chips from their cardboard home. It’s probably just another customer.

Loud voices echo from elsewhere in the store - Harriet and a man, arguing. A rude customer, maybe. Lucia doesn’t recognize the man’s voice. It’s not him. As long as it’s not him.

Her stomach twists abruptly in on itself and she winces. Takes a deep breath. Her body will right itself in just a second, she thinks. She was just too tired to eat before work. But instead of disappearing, the nausea takes root deep inside her and she drops the boxcutter on the floor.

She passes Harriet on her way to the back room. She stumbles through the door and into the employee bathroom, her fingers slipping on the stall’s latch. She tastes bile, thick and rotten, coming up her throat. Her hands keep slipping when she tries to pull her hair back, and the floor changes colors every time her head throbs with pain.

Is this divine punishment? Should she have gone home with him last night? He wouldn’t leave her alone.

The nausea doesn’t go away. If she tells Harriet, she’ll be sent home. Harriet will say maybe it’s food poisoning, or the flu. Maybe she’s contagious. Maybe she’ll spread it to all the snacks she’s stocking.

Lucia knows what it is. She knows exactly why she’s so sick. She stares at herself in the mirror while washing her hands, looking from the crucifix around her neck to her uneven eyes. Again she remembers his hands on her. Her head on the concrete.

Harriet’s gone when Lucia comes out of the bathroom. The man is gone too. She goes back to the snack aisle to resume her work, but she can’t get a good enough grip on the boxcutter. And when she does pick it up, she cuts open a bag of chips instead of the next box.

Then the lights turn off.

Harriet’s voice comes over the store’s PA system. “Apologies to our loyal customers and our staff, but Mexia Supermarket is now closed. We ask that you please leave immediately.”

Lucia’s eyes start to close, and she has to shake herself awake. She picks up the chip bag and its contents spill out, breaking into pieces at her feet. They’re salt and vinegar flavored. The smell makes her stomach twist tighter.

Forgetting the announcement, she finds her way to the back room again. She hears her coworker Wally yelling something from the office. For a moment he sounds like Edgar and Lucia wonders if it’s still last night. If she’s still lying on the concrete, trying to breathe, watching Edgar run away after she fell.

She doesn’t make it to the bathroom. She runs into the wall, nearly tripping over a box of apples and dry-heaving into the paint. Her head feels like it’ll break open. She can’t remember why she’s here.

Maybe if she sits down for a second, she’ll catch her breath.

She slides down to the floor, her legs crumpling under her. A sickly groan forces its way out of her throat. Her eyes won’t stay open. She’s so, so tired.

She lets go and feels herself falling. Her body slumps over to the side.

On the other side of the store, the man wraps a chain around the front doors and padlocks it. He slaps the note from the bank on the glass.

The other employees leave through the office with Harriet. No one is allowed back inside.

Lucia never opens her eyes.

Where am I?

The hum of a light was all Phillip could hear. Wherever he was, it was cold. Cold underneath him, a solid surface. He slowly moved his hands- smooth, too.

A door opened. Squeaking. Heavy footsteps coming into the room - not Sara or Vex, definitely not. It didn’t smell enough to be the store. But if he wasn’t in the store.. where was he?

More footsteps and the clink of metal on metal. Wheels coming closer. A sigh - someone sitting down, perhaps. Paper, pencil, writing. Phillip stayed still, tense, waiting. He wouldn’t make any sort of move until he figured out where he was. Or what was going on.

Something clinked next to his ear.

Cold touched his chest.

Sharp, stinging pain rushed through him as the blade cut into his torso. A long, deep line, blood spilling, the pungent smell filling the air.

“God, that’s disgusting..” a male voice groaned. “What the hell is this?”

Phillip gurgled, the sound going ignored. He felt that same cold, on his stomach this time. Could feel the maggots under his skin wriggling as the blade cut, trying to get free.

Something pushed inside him. Into the cut. The maggots broke out and Phillip couldn’t stay still any longer, gurgling in pain as he thrashed his arms.

“What the- What the fuck?! What the hell?!”

The doctor stepped back, tearing the incision as he stumbled. First this.. this creature is lying on his table, now it’s alive? What the actual fuck? And.. well. Its blood was the wrong color. There were maggots inside it. Every single thing about this was too weird.

Phillip went still again. Aside from the incisions, it didn’t hurt that much. Had he done it? Would the guy leave him alone now?

Intrusion. A hand inside the cut, tearing at rotting, half-eaten muscle. Phillip tensed, frozen, wishing he could scream. Another blade came and connected the two cuts together, pushing deeper, more blood warming his skin before giving way to cold air. He could feel chunks of his flesh being ripped out, disconnecting so easily, the man making sounds of disgust as he pulled.

If only he could be louder.

The intrusion stopped, and Phillip could hear liquid sloshing around. Plastic - a cap - being tossed aside.

Splattering. Hissing. The liquid was searing him, burning him from the inside out. He thrashed about, trying to make it stop - his hand hit plastic and he heard swearing, but the burning continued. No matter how hard he shook himself the liquid wouldn’t go away.

“Stay fucking still!”

A hand came up and pushed Phillip down, fingers slipping into the incision and making the burning worse. The doctor went back to tearing out flesh, ignoring Phillip’s pained gurgles as he tried to escape. Every second hurt more than the last.

If he’d known it was going to end like this, he might have gone with that weirdo in the blue hoodie instead. Sara and Vex had gone with him. He wondered where they were. If they’d ended up with the same fate as him, or if it was somewhere better.

He couldn’t move anymore. Every part of him was burning now. He could barely feel the hands digging and pulling at his flesh, or the knife making cut after cut after cut.

He’d sort of expected to die. He never wanted to live in this form. He just didn’t expect to die like this.

What did you expect?

Reese looked down at her hands, unable to tell if they were shaking or not. It felt like the entire world was trembling. She crouched down to pry open the box of tea she was restocking the shelf with, and the movement made her stomach twist into a knot.

Really, what did you expect? That it would be instant?

2:57 PM The sun was out and it wasn’t too warm. A cool breeze kept the air moving. The grass on the side of the road was dry, swishing under Reese’s feet as they began the walk to work. Cars roared past them. The bottled coffee in their backpack sloshed around. Such an unusually beautiful day.

Shit.

Reese dropped the tea container back into the box, standing up quickly. Their stomach protested the movement, twisting further, their mouth drying up.

They tried not to look suspicious as they headed for the back, but the taste of bile in their throat had them walking as fast as possible. Pushing a coworker out of the way to get to the employee bathroom in time. They were barely able to lock the stall door before collapsing to their knees, spilling their guts, eyes watering as their shaking hands held onto the dirty seat. Tasted horrible. Smelled horrible. But they didn’t see any pills in the mess they made. So this was just part of the process. They just had to wait a while longer.

“Reese?”

They hadn’t heard the bathroom door creak open.

“You okay in there?”

No no no noooo…

“‘M fine-“ they called back. “Just.. stomachache.” So convincing.

6:30 PM The paper bag crinkled as the pharmacist passed it across the counter.

“Thank you ma’am,” Reese said, taking it with the biggest smile he could give. The pharmacist just nodded. She had no idea what she’d just done.

She’d given him the key. The way out. He went back to the break room, stuffed the paper bag into his backpack, and took the whole thing to the bathroom with him. Luckily enough, nobody was in there.

The pills were small. It didn’t even take the whole bottle of coffee to wash them down. Heart beating too fast. Caffeine would make it worse. He didn’t care.

Nothing matters when you’re on your way out.

She’s going to tell someone.

Reese was still on their knees in the bathroom, trying to spit out the taste of vomit. They had to get up. Had to go back to work. Had to ignore how much the world, time, everything had slowed down around them.

Stifling a groan, they got to their feet and flushed. Washed their hands and rinsed their mouth in the sink. The bathroom was empty again. They took it as a good sign.

If you want something badly enough, the universe will bring it to you.

They stared at the fluorescent lights of the break room in a daze. Their heart was beating in every inch of their body, from their nose to their fingertips to their knees. Standing up felt like being on their tiptoes, unable to balance.

They had to get back to work.

They returned to the box of tea, carefully aligning each container on the shelf. Sleepytime. Variety pack. Peppermint. Lemon raspberry. It felt like their hands were shaking, but their grip never slipped. Time slowed down, but only in the pocket of space taken up by their breath.

The Night Before. “Tomorrow’s your last day,” she whispered, staring at herself in the mirror. Such a comforting yet sickening thought. She didn’t want to wait any longer. Another 24 hours was far more than she could take.

She imagined it was her mother’s face in the mirror, giving her words of encouragement. “You’re so brave, Reese.”

When does it start hurting?

They’d been holding the same box for.. too long. The same worry they’d had for months. The thought holding them back. They didn’t want it to hurt. They didn’t want to spend their last moments in painful terror, crying for their mother.

Hearing footsteps approach, they quickly stuck the box on the shelf and reached for the next one. Manager Dave walked into their aisle, giving them one of his easy, professional smiles.

“Hey, Reese. How’re you doing?” he asked. Sounding too friendly.

“Good,” they replied, putting another box on the shelf. “Weather’s nice.” Anything to distract him, to make him go away.

“You sure?” He stepped closer to them, lowering his voice. “Maddie said she heard you throwing up.” Reese opened their mouth to protest, but Dave put up a hand, silencing them. “If you’re sick, I have to send you home. Rules are rules.”

They hadn’t realized their mouth was still open. Dave’s words drifted through their head, then silence. They couldn’t focus with their heart trying to break out of their body. He was studying them, looking straight into their eyes. Like he could see straight through them.

Did he know..?

“Reese..? You in there?” He waved his hand in front of their face and they nodded, but moving their head made them sway dizzily.

Dave shook his head. “Uh-uh. Go sit in the break room. I’ll have Maddie finish this shelf.”

Cold dread began to settle in their stomach, but they followed orders, clumsily going through the doors and sitting down in the break room next to their backpack. They were so tired. Too dizzy. They curled up on their side, pulling their knees to their chest to make themself smaller.

If they closed their eyes, maybe they wouldn’t wake up. Maybe it would be over for good.

The floor squeaked under heavy shoes. Dave came in, followed by Camryn, the assistant manager, who sat in front of Reese and began to look over them with concern.

“Have you been feeling sick all day? Why didn’t you call in?” Dave asked, flipping through the binder of employee records. Reese didn’t reply. They couldn’t risk being found out.

“Reese.” Camryn shook them by the shoulder. “We’re just trying to help. Dave’s calling your family to pick you up.”

Reese shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut as they felt the ground tilting under them. “‘M fine,” they protested, useless as it was. “Don’t need to call them..”

Dave and Camryn looked at each other, the former narrowing his eyes. “Reese, are you high? Are you on something?” he asked, setting the binder on the table.

Camryn reached into Reese’s backpack, rooting through their mess of homework papers, pushing aside their school laptop and copy of The Great Gatsby. Ignoring Reese’s pathetic protests - they couldn’t even reach far enough to stop her.

She opened the second pocket and pulled out the empty coffee, then the crumpled-up paper bag from the pharmacy. And from inside the bag, the pill bottle with nothing inside. Turning it over to check the dates, maybe it was just old..

“What is that?” Dave asked, looking over her shoulder. The print was too small for him to read, but he’d figured it out too.

“Reese,” said Camryn urgently, taking hold of their wrist, “what did you do?”

“Nothing,” they mumbled, trying to twist out of her grip. “Jus’ let me rest for a bit… I’ll walk home..”

“Look at me.” Camryn only held on tighter, jerking their arm towards her. “Reese. Reese. Look at me. What did you do?”

Her eyes were wide. She was looking too far inside them. The fear in her expression made them nauseous, trying again to pull away from her, but she held on so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise.

And Dave was staring at them too. They couldn’t tell if he was mad or worried. It’d be better if he was just pissed off..

“What did you do?!”

Reese couldn’t give Camryn an answer. Their eyes stung with tears that weren’t there. She already knew. She didn’t need them to respond.

Dave was on the phone, turning away so they wouldn’t hear. Camryn tossed him the pill bottle and he examined it, stepping even farther away as he spoke.

Maybe if they closed their eyes for long enough, it would be over.

They were so close.

If Jill and Henry found out, they’d be in so much trouble. They’d never be able to escape. They’d be stuck in that house until they faded into the wallpaper.

It felt like closing their eyes on a merry-go-round. They tried to block out Camryn’s voice, Dave’s footsteps, someone else yelling as they walked into the room.

If they tried hard enough, maybe they wouldn’t have to wake up.

But they were being shaken again, harder this time. Camryn and Maddie sat in front of them, looking scared out of their minds. Sound faded back in. Their name being called.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Camryn said. “Stay with us, come on..”

“Can you sit up?” Maddie asked, her hand still on their ankle.

Reese gave her a pathetic thumbs up, doing their best to push themself off the floor. Camryn pulled them by the shoulder until they were leaning against the wall. It only made everything turn in the other direction.

“Maddie, get back to work. We’ve got this under control,” Dave said. Maddie looked like she didn’t want to listen, but she knew better than to disobey management. She gave Reese one more worried look before leaving the room.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Dave continued, dragging a chair from the table and sitting to face them. “I got a hold of Jill. She said she’d meet you at the hospital.”

Reese closed their hands into fists, trying to dig their nails into their palms. No, it wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay. They wanted to cry so badly, but it wasn’t safe. And their eyes were so dry.

Camryn was squeezing their wrist, but they were too tired to shake her off.

“We care about you, Reese..” she mumbled sadly.

They almost wanted to believe her.

They tried to block everyone out again. Maybe time would wait just a little longer to pass.

Please let me go. I don’t want to be here.

This place isn’t for me.

Let me disappear..

A policeman came into the room, speaking into a radio. Camryn let go of their wrist. Reese stared at the floor, trying to hide the fear turning their body to ice.