Never Run

033 ::: Never Withhold

Here you are, everyone! I think there are about 5 ish chapters left until this story is finished! And I will let you know right now that there will NOT be a sequel. If you've been reading my notes you would know that this story was based off of one single scene in my mind and has no real depth. I also don't have any plans for editing this story either. It will just be that one story that I actually finished and didn't put too much thought into.

I am still thankful and grateful for all of my readers that enjoy this story; it warms my heart that you do.

Enjoy! :) <3

I was going to vomit.

I was on a hard surface yet right below my body felt soft and lumpy. My head felt heavy like it would loll and bobble around if I tried to sit up, but even the thought of sitting up right now made me want to turn over and retch everything in my stomach. I felt like a weightless brick. It felt as if my body was floating on the surface of the ocean, but the ocean was made of cement.

Dizzy.

That's what it was.

I felt dizzy, disoriented. A slight headache pounded within the depths of my brain and didn't help calm the tides of nausea that rolled continuously through my gut. I began the processing of trying to piece together what exactly happened, sifting through the clearer memories that I knew for sure were true before moving onto the more muddled snippets of memory.

Resorting to the one unfortunate constant in my life: Xaler. He was leaving - left. I was alone, well as alone as I could be considering a flash of Xaler mentioning a guard stationed outside the hut we were staying at.

The hut.

My parents.

Tunnels.

I had snuck out through the tunnels that most every hut had dug out years ago when the furry shits took over. I then crawled into my parents' hut through the kitchen window. That's right; I spent my time with them talking, laughing, crying, Rya, Remington...Cal.

Cal.

He left first, before me, and it wasn't long after that I had climbed back through the window and made my way next door. Except once my feet touched the ground outside of the window is when it starts to get blurry. The picture in my mind morphing into something pixelated, distorted beyond my ability to repair. It was fuzzy and I tried to put the pieces together, but in the end, the picture didn't make any sense.

And now I was here. Wherever 'here' was.

"...you did what? Why?" a voice, somewhere out there, grit out into the air.

"Look - you were busy, she wasn't going to come easy, I made a decision."

"And your decision was to knock her out?"

"She wasn't going to come with me if I approached her," this voice became increasingly irritated as the conversation continued.

Would they just shut up? Their arguing, whomever they were, only made my head worse which, in turn, ignited a stronger wave of nausea to crash against the lining of my stomach. Mixing that with the dank and damp scent of wherever I was, created a cocktail of bile to rise in my throat.

"...out of everything you could've done that is what you landed on? You are a fucking id-"

"Enough!"

Oh great, another voice. Might as well invite everyone else and make it a party. This voice was gruff, weighty. It did the job of silencing the other two voices and for a moment there was peace.