❝black out days,
i don't recognize you anymore❞
── in which marisol miller accompanies her brother in law joel and a strange girl on a harsh and perilous journey to reach her [ex] husband tommy, in hopes of repairing their fractured and strained re...
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black out days
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a 'the last of us' fanfiction
MARISOL MILLER HAD IT ALL.
Her doting husband Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah who she had watched grow up and loved dearly as if she was her own, a quaint bakery where she lived out her culinary ambitions, the white picket fence home Tommy and Joel built with their own hands, and as of late, a swelling stomach, one that only continued to grow with each passing day, a reminder that there was more good to come.
It all felt like a dream. A dream Marisol never thought was possible given her past, the complicated whirlwind full of loss and pain, that Tommy and Joel willingly looked beyond as they welcomed her into their family. She had never experienced so much love and a strong sense of safety. It all almost felt unreal, like she was in a haze, one she was afraid she would wake from at any moment.
One that shattered like a glass slipping from her hands, leaving her palms cut and bloodied as it cracked and broke into pieces that could not be put back together.
It was Joel's birthday, a celebration she had taken part in countless times before as she made him the same double chocolate cake every year, as Tommy would crack yet another joke about him getting old, Sarah would take on the responsibility of chef as she whipped up a creation that no matter what it was, the three adults would act like it was the best possible thing to happen to American cuisine, they would horribly butcher the happy birthday song as they all sang out of tune, and towards the end they would sit down as a family to watch a mediocre at best action movie with the corniest one liners and stunts. All that mattered was that they were all together, laughing till their ribs ached and holding each other.
But that year was nothing like the ones before. They still held each other close, but the sense of safety was replaced with one of urgency, fear was potent and present as planes loomed over their heads, and bombs were dropped into the streets as blood curdling screams left the masses as they scattered. Their ribs still ached but it was from the bruises that were forming in the surrounding areas, and the sobs that racked their shaking bodies. But that night did not end with them all together.
Marisol Miller had woken from her dream and found herself living in a reality tainted with horrors and atrocities not even her worst nightmares could conjure up.
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