Author's Chapter Notes:
Hmmm, this popped into my head about a half hour ago, and I took a break from typing "Where Do We Go From Here?" to write this. I hope you like it, like I said, my morbidity got the best of me.
She stared at her nails. The sensation of uncleanliness filled her, sent a shudder through her as she contemplated the dirt trapped underneath her nails.

God, she’d never feel clean again.

It was everywhere: the grooves of her knuckles, in her ears, that forgotten stripe inside her wrist.

Inside her.

Dirt filled her. She must have swallowed some as she crawled. That was it. That would explain the dark hole in the pit of her belly. The thick feeling in her throat. She was heavy with dirt, it weighed her down, making her leaden and slow inside.

She glanced up from her hands to the mirror before her. The girl trapped inside was squinting, her new-born eyes not yet adjusted to the lights. The girl wore white. White shirt. So clean, so clean.

She’d woken up in black. Had it been white before? Could’ve been all that dirt…

Her gaze was drawn back to her hands, the knuckles torn and bloodied. He hadn’t had a chance to fix them. The room had burst open, and noise and feelings had ripped through her, making her dizzy and sick.



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She could smell the dirt. It filled the air of the cemetery. If she pretended hard enough, she was back before. Young, sneaking through the window, heading towards the field of graves.

It was cold tonight. She shivered.

She trudged forward, fear choking her throat as the dirt coated her bare feet, making her filthy, and wrong.

The smell of dirt was strongest here. She fell to her knees in recognition, her hands curling around errant clumps of grass, grasping them like hope, salvation.

Salvation.

It made her think of peace. A peace that would never be achieved here. Not when monsters and equally monstrous people were there to break, smash, cut, rip, tear…

Tear her away from…

A lone tear scorched a path down her cold cheek.

She had forgotten, forgotten what she had been torn from already. The image was fast leaving her mind. Her face crumpled in pain and frustration, and a hoarse howl tore from her throat.
A dirty hand knotted its way through clean hair, a tugging pain to distract her. The other pressed into the ground, meshing itself into the dirt, becoming one.

She slumped forward, her face meeting the cold dirt that smelled so warm. Her mind filled with images of writhing, creeping bugs that moved against her as she screamed into silence, her lungs filling with thick, creamy dirt.

Sobs wracked through her, and she dug viciously, slashing through the dirt, seeking her lost peace. Maybe she’d left it there, maybe it had come loose as she’d thrashed and tunnelled.

Cool hands grasped her forearms, pulling at her. She fought, twisting in his grasp like a street-cat, burrowing herself further into the dirt.

Please…Please,” she begged, scratching the ground frantically. “I need it!”

“No, no, please, pet. C’mon, sweetling, stop that, please.”

He was ready to cry, she could hear. Tears were coating his throat, the kind that filled her own, clogging it, like the dirt of a grave. She went weak, and fell into his waiting arms.

“Good girl, I’ve got you. Hush, luv, it’s okay.”

She shook her head. “It’s gone… I forgot it all… It hurts so much…”

He sniffed. “Oh, kitten, it’s okay, I’ve got you, we’ll make it better okay?”

She felt herself nodding numbly.

“Alright. Where’s your shoes? Did you bring any?” At the shake of her head, he stood up with her wrapped up in his arms. “Right, I’ll carry you. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

He walked all the way to her darkened house, her dirt-covered body so small cradled in his arms.

They easily re-entered her open window. She was set down on the bed as he crept to the bathroom for something to clean her up with.

The bed was clean, the sheets white. White represented purity. She would never be white again… What did that mean?

He walked back in, and shut the door softly behind himself. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he took a packet of wet-wipes and gently cleaned her dirtied feet. Then her hands, and her face.

She stared blankly at him the whole time. He ran a hairbrush through her hair, careful not to hurt her.

When he finished, he set it down on her dresser. “Pet, you need to take off those dirty clothes.”

Another numb nod. She reached for the buttons of the shirt, unfastening them.

His cool hand rested over hers. “I’ll get you something else to wear, then you can undress when I’m not lookin’. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Her voice was dry, it rasped. She waited and watched as he rummaged through her drawers, producing a set of pyjamas.

She nodded her thanks when he handed them to her.

He turned his back to give her decency. She peeled off the dirty clothes, kicking them under her bed, safe from prying eyes who maybe would ponder the source of grass stains and patches of dirt.

Would they see the tear stains too?

When she finished dressing, she slipped into her cold bed. At the noise of the mattress rustling under her weight, he turned around, his pale face etched in worry and pain.

“You feelin’ better, pet?”

She lied with a nod.

His shoulders sagged. “Do you need me to stay? Or, I could go get Niblet?”

She lied again. “I’m fine.” Why did her voice croak like that?

He nodded. “I’ll let you sleep then.” He approached her, and pressed his frigid lips to her forehead.

She shivered.

He pulled back, and headed to the window. “Night, luv.”

The window gave a sigh as he slid it shut.

She was alone in the darkness. It seemed to roll above her, threatening to suffocate her. It moved closer, veiling the edges of her vision, and enveloped her.

Sleep overtook her, and images of fire and demons and knights flashed before her eyes.

Suddenly, a wall of smothering dirt was above her, crushing her chest.

She opened her mouth in a silent scream…

And tasted dirt.


Chapter End Notes:
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Thanks for reading my late night weirdness.



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