Chapter Text
… ?
Warmth. Soft, heavenly warmth surrounds you. You huddle into the warmth. Something fills you, making you feel light and good. It is a good thing. Warmth is good. The provider of the warmth is good.
Mother, you think in not quite so many words. Good. Warm. Good.
…
…
…
There is an odd sound. You can’t place it, but you don’t like it. It is loud and rough on your fragile ears. It is bad. You want more warmth. You move, limbs tangling together ungracefully, seeking the warmth -
and then, all of a sudden,
it is ripped away
from you.
Without the warmth, you realize it is bitterly cold. You curl up in a ball, shivering. This is bad. Cold is bad. Where is mother? Where is warmth?
You do not like this. Something fills your chest, like warmth but it’s different. It makes you feel big and strong. Big and strong (wrong) and like you want to hurt.
You want to hurt something. You want to hurt whoever has your mother.
You try to get up and off the cold ground but your limbs are shaky and weak. You fall down, landing with a thump . More of the odd sound.
You hate the odd sound. It is very bad. Just as bad as cold. The odd sound sends more of the not-quite-warmth feeling through you and you push yourself back up. You will hurt whoever has your mother.
You stumble forwards on shaky limbs and snap blindly. What you did, you don’t know. But you do it anyway, knowing on instinct that it is what you want to do. You snap what later will be known to you as jaws, doing what you will later know as biting towards where you heard the sound.
There is a buzzy sound, one you don’t quite like, and -
pain.
It hurts. It hurts, searing a hot line of pain into your back. You hate it. You hate it hate it hate it. It is bad. Just as bad as the first odd sound. The pain sends more of the not-quite-warmth feeling through you, but also a different feeling.
You do not like this feeling.
It makes your torso feel tight and makes your breathing speed up. You know it’s a bad feeling somehow, in a way you just can’t express. The not-quite-warmth is better.
Fueled by the not-quite-warmth, you stagger forwards and snap around blindly until you catch something between your jaws. It’s rough, but gives easily under the sharp edges of your teeth and you bite down until you taste something oddly metallic.
There’s a noise.
It grates on your ears, but in a strangely nice way instead of a bad way. You like this sound. It’s not good, but it is definitely not bad.
Another buzzy sound, one that you definitely don’t like. You let go, knowing what -
pain.
Pain ripples across your back, searingly hot in a bad way. More of the torso-tight feeling courses through you, but also more of the not-quite-warmth feeling and you focus on that. That is what powers you up. You keep snapping at everything around you until something zaps you and you fall to the ground, suddenly unable to move.
You can’t move.
Your limbs are twitching and you try to get back up, but you can’t. Your breathing is becoming faster and faster with each second, all of your energy focused on moving. You have to move!
Something grabs you, something rough and harsh and bad. You try to struggle, wanting to break free, but you are barely able to twitch one of your limbs. More of the first odd sound, which you will later learn is laughter.
You hate the rough beings who make the laughter and the buzzy sounds. They drop you onto a cold surface, sending more pain through your body. Something stabs your side, creating a metallic smell. You don’t like the smell.
You try to get up and are successful for a moment, and then something cold wraps around your limbs. There is a grating sound, one that you don’t like. You try to move but something stops you and it isn’t what zapped you. It’s whatever it is wrapped around your limbs.
Again, you try to move and the cold thing around your limbs stops you again. This time, you move too far and fall flat, to the sound of laughter.
You hate the laughter. The laughter is bad. The laughter will bring the buzzy sound, which brings pain and not-quite-warmth and torso-tight. The laughter ripped away the warmth of mother .
Lying there on the cold surface, in pain , scared and angry , you drift into blissful emptiness.