@dxrkenedheights blair x trick - in da truck
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It's the same haunting memory. Twelve years old. Suffocating beneath the weight of her own mother's hands, submerged relentlessly over and over again. The sensation of drowning clings to her, her eyes opening just as her mother's hands release the pressure and lets her rise. A gasp for breath. Now her senses are assaulted by the faint hum of an engine, a deep rumble that's first loud but once her senses adjust, it's steady. Comforting. She isn't twelve. Her brother is beside her, she can feel his presence now but Blair doesn't look at him. Her eyes are set, dead to the road ahead. Desolate and empty. Pale fingers sweep away pitch black hair from her face, and now her breathing is as steady as the truck's hum.
It was a long time ago. You haven't been drowning for a long time. The whispers overlapping in her head may speak in reassurance but they're harsh, sneering almost. Blair clears her throat, ignoring them as she snatches the map from the center console. Not once addressing her start awake. "Where the fuck is this fucking shithole?" she gripes, peering to all of the scribbles across the paper. Both her and her brother's writing, sometimes crossing out the other as if they interject and correct one another even with a pencil. The next likely possible safetown is their goal, but all Blair can see out of the windows is emptiness. "How's gas?"
