Chapter Text
He was six. Six years old when the world-ending disasters ripped through cities and oceans, killing hundreds and thousands in the process. Six years old when he was separated from his family and friends, six years old when his happy life almost came to an end.
At first, it had been a small hint of danger, nothing that would have worried most. Earthquakes, tiny ones at that, in places that there were no tectonic plates shifting near. When a 2.3 magnitude earthquake was recorded two towns away from his house, nobody batted an eye.
And then it started getting more severe. His town recorded a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, which shook up his house in the middle of the night, tearing down a few pictures from the walls. People then began to talk about the disruption for days to come.
Slowly, unemployment rates went up. Consumer spending slowly halted, people started losing jobs everywhere. It had gone from a steady downfall to a cliff edge, his family being priced out of their neighbourhood, his father’s company losing everything and closing. His mother had wept for hours when the monthly tax for their residence came in. They ended up having to take money out of his brother's college fund to pay.
They had to start using almost no water, sparing food as much as they could. His mother looked at him with tears in her eyes, almost skeletal body shakily handing him the bits of food she had found. She cried more when he came to her and wailed about his body hurting. His two other brothers barely survived at twelve years old, screaming at their father when he came home one night yelling accusations at their mother, clearly under the influence of alcohol.
Then the United States crumbled. Doing worse than the United Kingdom, its government shattered in pieces, a 10.1 magnitude earthquake ripping the country in slices. He knows now that it would’ve been only a bit of time until it had happened to the rest of the world.
He didn’t know that it would come so soon.
>Thursday, May 16th, 2019.
“Tom dear, please tell me why you insist on bringing that cow plush to school today?” Kristens once angelic voice, now raspy and small, asks her son. Six year old Tommy Craft wrapped his shaky hands around the raggedy cow stuffed animal, gently putting the cow plush into the dirty spiderman themed backpack.
“ Henry is going to school because Toby wants to see him!” the blonde exclaims, hopping up and down. He and one of his friends, Tubbo, had agreed to take their stuffies to school so they could meet each other and become friends.
His mother hands him a plastic bag, revealing a third of a peanut butter-jelly sandwich and a few carrots placed near the side of the bag. She looks at him with sorrowful eyes, apologetic she can only give him too little food. The blonde takes it, almost immediately, but not so fast to the point where it would harm his mother. Over the past few months, he and his older brothers had learned how to handle their parents.
Their father, Philza, was like walking on eggshells if you spoke to him. Talk about his company that went down the gutter, he would wallow in his own sorrows and drink too expensive liquids the family couldn’t afford, likely stealing it. Tommy’s brother Wilbur would despise him for it, the twelve year-old shrieking that he would never, ever be like him. Techno would watch the screaming fights between them from afar, trying desperately to make sure Tommy never heard the fights. Tommy always did.
Their mother, Kristen, was different. Extremely different from their father. She put her children before her and made it aware that she loved them to death, as she slowly verged it. Wilbur would apologise if he ever touched her too strongly. Techno would help her do almost anything, insisting it if her hands were too shaky and frail for it. Tommy now would never admit it, but he would waddle into his parents room at night and lay down beside his mother, clasping her hand and praying to whatever god there was out there that she would not pass.
It wasn’t long that Tommy had to get all his things before Kristen was driving him to school, the slightly beaten car whirring down old roads towards the primary school. The normally green grass is yellow and crumbled, curling in on itself. If Tommy wasn’t so young, he would look into it, perhaps stand at the door while his parents spoke about it.
After a few minutes, they get to the primary school. It's a small one, with cracks along the walls and the windows slightly dirty, but it's the only primary school that sounded good in town. Tommy could see his teacher outside the front doors of the building, smiling at the passing children. Kristen stops the car in front of the school, unlocking it and opening her door.
Tommy moves almost immediately, unbuckling his seatbelt and waiting for his mother to go over to his side of the car. She opens his car door, cupping him under the arms and lifting him until his shoes hit the pavement. His mother crouches down so she's his height, murmuring something along the lines of “Have a good day, I love you!” as she hugs him.
Everytime she hugs him before school it feels like Kristens afraid that it will be their last. Tommy’s never understood it, but he tries his hardest to reciprocate it. The woman gives him a final few headpats before ushering him towards the direction of the school doors. Tommy laughs, shouting his goodbyes while he runs into the building.
The blonde’s teacher, Ms. Hannah, let him into the building, looked at the clock, and closed the building's door. “How are you doing today, Mr. Innit?” She asked as they entered the loud 1st Year classroom. Mr. Innit, or just ‘Innit’, had been a name that Tommy proclaimed as his own on the first day of school, and it stuck.
“Good! Mum woke me up before my brother’s woke up so I got to see them!” He practically was radiating joy, and if it weren’t for the laws of the human body, Tommy would have surely exploded from the smile on his face. Seriously, how did the kids' facial muscles do that?
Ms. Hannah replies with a small “that’s great!” before Tommy rushes to the table in the middle marked “3”, sitting next to a familiar brunette with a black squirrel plush. The boy beams as Tommy sits down.
“Hey Bossman!” Tubbo greets, shaking the squirrel plush, Michael lightly. His hair is not at all maintained, it's almost all in his eyes and his clothes are sewn up in multiple places, but so are Tommy’s.
“Hello Big T!” Tommy replies in the same tone, opening his spiderman backpack and grabbing Henry by the front legs. Tubbo’s grin somehow gets wider at the sight. The brunette pokes Tommy’s arm and Tubbo reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out two wide pieces of ribbon.
“I thought Henry and Michael could have matching bandanas! Like Michael has red like you and Henry has green like me!” Despite being ‘astronomically older’ than Tommy, he giggles like a three year-old getting a lolly. Plus he’s only a year older. The blonde takes the red ribbon, confusing his friend for a second, before reaching to the supply box in the middle of the table and grabbing a fine tip marker.
He writes out ‘Tommy’ on the corner of the red piece of fabric and makes a giving motion at the green ribbon. Tubbo can barely see where he’s going with this, but hands him the green chunk of cloth. Then he writes ‘Tubbo’ on it, and looks at his confused friend confidently, like the brunette has any idea why he did that.
…After a few moments of silence, Tommy explains, “Now it's really matching! Got our names ‘n everything!”
Tubbo makes a big “ohhh” sound, understanding. “Can I have Henry for a second?” He asks, tilting his head to the side a little. The blonde looks at him, sceptical, but eventually slides the plush to his best friend. Tubbo takes the cow stuffie by the sides, plopping him down in front of him. A green ribbon is placed around the plush’s neck, a knot in the back keeping the now bandana in place.
Then, the seven year-old moves to his own plush. It’s a bit hard to put the red bandana on Michael, the little arms that the stuffed animal has got in the way a bit, but he manages.
Now the plushies are matching, the two friends proud of it. They bicker and talk about stupid things the whole class until it's time to go to the library at roughly 10:30 a.m.
“Okay, everyone go single-file and quiet down the hallway as we go to the library,” Ms. Hannah’s voice travelled through the classroom, finger waving in the air. She knew that her class wouldn’t be entirely silent, but it was worth the try.
The children clamoured out the small doorway, pooling into the hallway and walking towards the direction of the library. Tommy and Tubbo play-fought with their stuffed animals the entire way there, the kids around them distracted by side conversations that were painfully whispered.
If anyone had paid attention to the walls and the rumbling of the floorboards, they would have noticed small shakes, but would most likely blame it on the class's not-so-light footwork. ( It was never the class that did it though, if only they had known.)
Ms. Hannah had only felt unease as they went to the library, eyebrows knit together and shoulders tightened. With the recent events of the world, the day had been far too nice and calm. Hopefully it would be a good sign, she really needs a break.
Soon, they reached the library entrance doors and stop. The doors are two glass metal-framed entrances, with a sign on one of them and the other having a crappy worn down poster. Ms. Hannah, no matter how many times they go to the library, goes over the rules. They're basic, ‘don't be loud, put a book back where you left it, don't go near the computers,’ etcetera.
The library was a nice place for Tommy, it was quiet, it had things he could give to his brothers and it didn’t cost a dime. They limited it to only three books, so it was perfect. Techno liked Greek mythology, right? He grabs “Ancient Greek Mythology” and heads over to the M section. He knows for a fact Wilbur loves music, so he takes a book with a guitar and music notes. Most of the stuff he gets for his brothers are things he can't understand, too long words that are a pain to pronounce.
Finally he goes to get something for himself. Except there's suddenly rumbling on the floors and his sight is trembling like it got stuck in -3 degree weather. Crappy ear-bleeding sirens ring out on the wall and he hears the secretaries' panicked voice over the intercom, but he’s too far from a table to hide under as instructed, and the bookcases around him shake like a leaf. There's chaos around him, his classmates running for any and every exit possible, yet he doesn’t move. Tommy feels like he can't move, like he's paralysed while standing.
Then the bookcases fall.
And everything for the blonde goes dark.
three days later, Tommy wakes up with piercing pain everywhere on his body – like he just got slammed into a wall by one of his favourite TV show villains. The six year-old's immediate reaction was to scream for his mother “ MOMMY! MOMMA, PLEAS-” , for his brothers – “ Wilby! Tech’, help me Wilb –”, anyone that could hear him, but he got nothing in return.
It burned to blink despite the teardrops running down his dirt and ash covered cheeks. He could barely see, liquid clouding his vision and the darkness of the place he was trapped in being the cause.
There was a light rumble that ran through the space, but it made him squeeze his eyes shut and attempt to curl into himself. It just hurt more.
When he opened his eyes again after the sound had ceased, there were little pebble holes of light shining through onto him, showing him bits of the little dome around and on him. Books and rubble coating the ground.
Squirming his way out was almost immediately out, it would be painful and the cement and beams around him looked like they could fall through at any moment. His backpack was still on him, separating him barely from the crumbled remains of the building. He was happy he survived, but the pain after was too much to bear alone. It felt like he was being ripped apart every time he moved.
The blonde miraculously got out of the horrifyingly small space he was trapped in, and Tommy saw just how damaged everything was. It was like a hurricane ripped through the town and made sure to not leave one part untouched.
Tommy looked at his dirt covered body, seeing the streams of rough red against his arms and the countless scratches and gouges in his legs. He misses Mum. She would know what to do, she always does.
The blonde remembers one of the superhero shows he watched where the hero put fabric around his really icky wounds, maybe he could do that! But Henry, very, very flattened Henry had a bandana that was too small – and he doesn’t wanna take his shirt off because that's weird – decisions suck.
He settles it by aggressively chewing at the lower part of the sleeve on his jacket until his teeth hurt and it's actually detached, and wraps it tightly around his gouged out calf. Too tight, pain pain painpa inpainpaINPAIN-
He ends up staying at the broken down building for a little less than a month, living almost entirely off of bad tasting milk and lunch food- which even though it's not that edible , is food and it's all he needs. The books in the library helped him with words more, and Henry kept him company as he- no it’s not wailing - very manly crying for his mother to save him.
<END SEGMENT 001-DATE LAST RECORDED: WEDNESDAY JUNE 12TH, 2019