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It’s hard to move on when there’s A constant reminder of a memory on your body.
A reminder of the pain one’s own flesh and blood can inflict, both physically and mentally.
Vanessa hasn’t left her bed in days.
The blonde clutches her abdomen, feeling the flashbacks creep in. The knife piercing her flesh, The absence of remorse in her father’s face; falling unconscious.
“Help me clean up the mess that YOU created!” His words still echoed in her head even six years later, the taunting of a man who should’ve nurtured and protected her.
“Bunny? You in he- FUCK, VANESSA!” Vanessa could hear the panicked shouting of her lover, but still she remained unmoving. “Ness, what’s wrong?!”
When Vanessa didn’t answer, Amanda made her way to the bed. Her hands reached for Vanessa’s face, running her thumbs along her cheeks
Vanessa only pulled Amanda closer, crying into her shoulder. “Was it my fault?” She asks her wife with a strained cry.
Amanda isn’t confused by this. Vanessa has been blaming herself for everything that happened prior to them meeting since they fell into each other’s life.
Amanda sees herself in Vanessa. She knows what it feels like to be the one that everyone blames. The scapegoat. The Junkie bitch.
She can’t help herself as she leans forward. “Vanny, look at me.”
Vanessa does. Amanda’s voice was a constant comfort to the police officer, her eyes meeting those of dark green.
“Those kids dying? His doing. Those security guards? Hi-“
“But I killed the guards, Mandy, it’s mine,” Vanessa interrupts, voice cracking. “I disposed of the bodies after each kill. As for the kids....he made me clean that up. I have blood on my hands, whether you want to accept that or not.”
“And I don’t? Face it, baby girl. We’re both responsible for shady shit, but you’re not to blame for those dead kids. Now, scoot your ass over.”
Vanessa nor Amanda were fond of physical affection due to trauma, but they were drawn to each other’s embrace like moths to a flicker of light.
Amanda got behind her taller wife, hands over the other woman’s stomach scar. She’d been possessive over that area, reclaiming it from its origin.
Afton’s inflictions did not belong on Vanessa’s body, having no right to even be there in the first place. Amanda had made it her mission to take all of the scars and make them hers. She’d be damned if that fuck had any part on her skin through wounds.
They were hers now. Every single one was paid attention to, loved upon and kissed individually.
She couldn’t wait to visit him in prison when it was time for his test. She would rig it to make sure he never saw the sunrise again.
John had told her to never make tests personal.
But William Afton was more than personal.
And she couldn’t wait to watch him suffer.
Finding out he’d been rescued from that rabbit suit and survived made Amanda tick. From what she had found through research, William had been found a few days after Vanessa fell into comatose, and he was in the hospital for about a year before being sent to prison.
He was put into solitary to protect him from other prisoners, knowing how they feel about those who harm children.
He didn’t deserve to be kept alive, and Amanda was planning something far worse than a dingy yellow rabbit spring lock suit.
It would make John’s games look like an Elementary school’s field day.
As she listened to Vanessa’s soft snoring, Amanda leaned her head against her back.
Amanda had her own trauma at the hands of her father, but if she could take that pain out on the man that hurt her girl, maybe it would heal some of that pain.
Her hands still lay protectively over that scar, a silent vow of love and vengeance.