Chapter Text
Tahira’s mind felt foggy, as she clutched herself on her bed. It wasn’t unusual at this point — she did this so often, actually, that she had lost count.
She didn’t need to talk to anyone about what she was feeling!
… She felt smaller, smaller than usual.
The way Nora’s eyes batted at her, with such an understanding yet stern look earlier, made Tahira’s stomach sink, like she was a child again. In retrospect, it was innocent — it wasn’t usual for the older woman to look at the younger girls with, as Nataana described, “a tender look, she sees us fondly.”
But at that moment, Tahira felt like baring her teeth to Nora. In that moment, Nora didn’t seem tender, nor fond — it activated something deep in Tahira.
Yet, she couldn’t remember what. She didn’t know why she was feeling this way. She hated feeling like a fucking prey animal; she bared her teeth and her claws were out.
Why was she feeling so small, and so foggy?
Ri-Ri would know what to do, wouldn’t co? No, co wouldn’t. She was awful with emotions. Still, co had made some progress…
She didn’t want to think right now.
Nora was understanding, she guided her safely. “I was like you, once,” she had told Tahira. Nora was warm. Nora almost felt like a motherly figure — Tahira figures it makes sense. She had worked with kids in the past.
Tahira hated how she felt right now.
A knock on the door was suddenly heard, and Tahira got up quickly, still clutching at her T-shirt, her eyes half-closed. She opened the door.
It was Morgan.
“Hi, Ta-hi-ra!” Its voice was more enthusiastic than usual, his eyes shining bright, after she played with the syllables of Tahira’s name. Tahira began biting her nails. Morgan ducked her head, as if she was confused.
Tahira wasn’t truly there yet, was she?
The brown-haired girl with pink streaks got closer to Tahira, his round nose touching hers. Tahira shudders, stifling a giggle. “Hey, Momo,” she says, her voice felt softer, smaller. Why why why why why why—
“Are you crying?” Morgan asks, and Tahira gets tense. She felt like a child that was lost in the supermarket, a child that was being berated. She touches her right eye and… it was teary.
Still, she shakes her head.
“You seem sad, wanna talk about it?” Morgan said, her voice was… smooth? It felt even more energetic at its core, yet so gentle.
The messy-haired girl shakes her head again.
“If you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, do you want to walk around with me?” Morgan says, with an even friendlier tone than usual. Tahira didn’t know why, but something inside her wanted this comfort — and, as far as she could tell, other than Kairi, Morgan was VERY comfortable to be around. Oddly safe.
If anything, Morgan was the one who didn’t feel safe with Tahira. For one reason or another, that thought made the girl sadder.
Still, she reaches out her hand, and Morgan excitedly grabs it. Her smile reached her eyes, and they shone so bright. Like stars during a clear night, like the moon reflecting off on the lake, like fire in a fireplace.
Tahira felt drawn to Morgan’s shine.
***
Morgan had brought Tahira to the “living room.” Everyone called it that because it had a television, a soft carpet, a couch, tables with things on top of it, big windows that were always closed shut.
Tahira was looking at Morgan, laying on the carpet with a big smile on his face. Sometimes, she made some sounds, and Tahira didn’t really understand why. She was lying on the couch, thumb in her mouth, knees close to her chest.
“So, say, Ta-hi-ra,” Morgan giggles, and Tahira was finding it odd. It always said her name normally, or in a nickname, like Rae, but he never played with the syllables of her name. “Why are you upset?”
Tahira didn’t really feel like telling him. Morgan was nice, and she knew it. Everyone knew it! Sweet as sugar. But, she wasn’t comfortable telling it yet.
“… Mom…” Tahira’s voice was small, soft, barely above a whisper. She looked away from Morgan, closing her eyes and sucking on her thumb, pressing her knees even closer to her chest. Small tears forming at the corner of her eyes.
This shouldn’t be happening — why the fuck was she feeling so…
“Your mom isn’t here,” Morgan reassures her.
She felt even more like prey.
She felt so vulnerable.
She wanted her mom, and she wanted her gone.
She wanted her dad, but she wanted him dead.
Tahira begins to cry softly. “I don’t want it!” She says, gripping at her hair, her eyes closed so tightly it hurts, and Morgan rolls her off the couch.
She wanted warmth.
She wanted to be left alone.
She wanted to bare her teeth and claws.
But she was tired.
“You don’t need to do what you don’t wanna,” Morgan says, grooming petting Tahira’s hair after gently making her stop gripping tightly at it. “Let’s just play together!”
Tahira looks up at Morgan, his eyes dilated and bright and starry as always. Smile so sweet and warm.
Still, Tahira didn’t want to talk. She felt overwhelmed, instead just whimpering like a little kid and feeling her pride leaving her.
Not in front of Morgan.
“Don’t hide your face!” Morgan’s warm hands held Tahira’s face, Tahira avoiding eye contact with it. “Morgan…”
The chubby girl hummed at her.
“Why am I feeling so little, so small? This… isn’t very normal for me…”
Morgan lets out gentle laughter. “Sorry, sorry for laughing!—”
“Not forgiven.”
Morgan lets out a sad noise like a puppy. She moves Tahira’s head from her lap and starts rolling around on the carpet, her hoodie messy and slightly exposing her navel.
Tahira crawls to Morgan’s side, seeing his face as it had its eyes closed. She didn’t understand how Morgan was feeling, he was somewhat confusing sometimes when she was in this state. Xiomara always allowed it.
“Are you regressed?” Tahira asks, sitting next to Morgan. “I dunno, are you?” Morgan asks back. Tahira puffs her cheeks and pouts.
Morgan reaches for its pocket, and when its hand leaves his pocket, a piece of candy is laid between her fingers. Morgan was just smiling at Tahira, and Tahira takes the candy from Morgan’s fingers.
Tahira just unwraps it and pops it into her mouth. Somewhat sour, somewhat fruity. She looks down at him, now laying on one side in Tahira’s direction, and she pets her. She lies facing Morgan.
“I’m sad, Momo,” Tahira tries explaining, avoiding eye contact. “Nora looked at me like mom,” Tahira’s voice was fluttering, and so soft. “It’s not the first time I feel small…”
Morgan didn’t say a word, instead just putting her hand over Tahira’s, her big eyes shone brightly. Yet, this time, it held concern.
“I don’t like when adults look at me, it makes me feel bad,” she continued to explain. The words were involuntarily leaving but, given how foggy her mind felt, she didn’t really bother. It was Morgan listening to her, after all — it felt… safe.
Did he understand her? Did she feel the same pain that burned her heart? Did it hurt her, until the pain was just common knowledge? Like how God was a figure cutting through Kairi’s life, still? Does it cut out at her organs and twist her stomach, an eternal nausea that can’t be simply thrown up like a normal motion sickness?
Did he understand? Did it know? Did she—
Morgan left out a whimper. It was so puppy-ish that it made Tahira giggle. “You like my voice, Momo?” Tahira jokes, and Morgan paws at her, still whimpering and nodding.
“You make a cute puppy, I wanna keep you,” Tahira says, not-so-jokingly. Morgan looks at her with hopeful, big eyes, and Tahira giggles. “Yeah, I’m keepin’ ya!” She announces, the first time in the day she sounded actually happy. She felt genuinely content.
She rolls over the carpet, giggling. Tahira follows suit, kicking her legs.
There was an odd feeling of freedom to it, even though she was small. She had studied about it before, as she called herself, “the researcher of things that don’t matter.” Feeling like a child again was, usually, suffocating, terrifying, scary; she felt defenseless, she couldn’t even try to defend herself in that state. But, right now, it feels safe.
It feels okay. Hearing Morgan’s little giggles as he was non-verbal made Tahira feel good. Tahira also innocently giggled and kicked her feet. There was no one telling her to “grow up,” no one berating her, no one looking down on her.
Tahira holds out her hands in Morgan’s direction. She looks at her curiously, “wuffing” at her. She looks to the side, and Morgan’s hands touch hers. “Yippee!” Morgan celebrates, fingers entwined with Tahira’s. Her blue eyes never stopped shining.
“Yaaaaay,” Tahira giggles, saying it jokingly and with not as much emotion as Morgan. “You’re nice, Momo,” Tahira says, holding Morgan’s hands tightly. Morgan seemed so happy!
“Don’t leave me,” she says, and Morgan ducks her head. “I said don’t leave me!” Tahira says it louder, more firmly. A child afraid to be left alone when the lights are turned off. Morgan just points to the things on top of the table.
Paper, pens, and colored pencils…
***
Tahira was drawing the first thing that came into her mind, and Morgan was biting the end of the pencil. “Don’t do that, Mara says it’s not good,” Tahira tells Morgan, as Morgan takes the pencil off her mouth. Morgan “hmphs” before giggling.
“You haven’t talked for a while now, Momo.” As she points it out, she points a pen at Morgan’s direction. Morgan “wuffs” at her, making Tahira laugh. “You’re silly.”
Tahira just keeps scribbling, but there is a clawing feeling in her stomach. Ferocious, aching, burning, twisting knots. A part of Tahira was still as defensive as always, and this part she was trying to show was being stifled.
A child grotesque in its deformation. Stifled. Breathless.
“Ugh, this is stupid,” Tahira says, yet her voice was still childish, soft, small. “Momo, don’t tell others we did that, ‘kay?” She says, slight shame in her voice. Morgan begins whimpering and tries pawing at her, but Tahira still leaves.
Her drawing — a bunch of scribbles. One small, one tall; the former unhappy, the latter indifferent. They seemed to hold hands. Morgan held the drawing close to his chest.
As Tahira walked through the halls, there was a feeling of déjà vu. The white walls, the echoes, the doors.
Her wrists still itched.
But, in this moment, she hated this pain.
However, she walked to her room.
And as soon as she laid in bed, she just wanted to be tucked in. She remembers her cousin tucking her in when she was still small. When she was still…
… Innocent.
She envied that. Her past self, before seeing how much life actually sucked. She envied each and every child that was safely tucked in to sleep, and kissed “good night.” Kissed better.
Tahira just covers herself up, scratching at her itchy wrist, tears still forming at the corner of her eyes.
She didn’t want to feel small anymore! Yet, it’s not like she could control it.
***
Less than twenty minutes later, as Tahira kept sucking on her thumb with her eyes closed, she heard pawing at her door. It felt like pawing, considering the whimpering. Tahira gets up.
As soon as she opens the door, Morgan throws a stuffed toy at her. And before she could even react, it threw even more plushies at her. “Hey!” Tahira yells, and Morgan just hugs her. The messy-haired girl was left speechless, before guiltily smiling at her friend’s chaotic actions.
“You brought those for me?” Tahira asks, making Morgan nod her head excitedly.
Tahira picks up the stuffed cat with a smug smile. She liked it. Morgan seemed to like the fluffy brown puppy and the cutesy teddy bear with a heart more, though.
“Wanna play…” Tahira says, closing the door of her room and sitting on the floor, in front of a selectively mute, puppy Morgan. “C’mere, my buppy.” Morgan starts laughing a bit, flapping her hands. “Buppy,” Morgan repeats, and Tahira’s face gets an intense hue.
“Hey! I just said it wrong! Fuck you,” she crosses her arms, looking to the side embarrassed. She pouts, and Morgan pokes Tahira’s cheek, making her even more embarrassed. “Quit it!”
Morgan picks up the teddy bear holding a very red heart, and points it to Tahira. The sunken-eyed girl picks up the teddy bear, and holds it close to her chest. She didn’t want to admit how… safe, this felt. She sinks her head into the teddy bear, making Morgan clap happily.
“This feels nice, Morgy…” Tahira says and, when she looks at Morgan again, he was pouting. “What, you don’t like that nickname? Morgy, Morgy, Morgy, Morgy—”
Morgan sticks a finger in Tahira’s mouth. Her eyes seemed angry.
Tahira bites down at her finger, and Morgan whimpers.
“Hmph! Alright, I’ll call you Momo, but don’t do that again!” Tahira scolds her, whilst hugging the teddy bear even tighter.
Morgan smiles. Tahira wouldn’t admit how cute Morgan was.
***
It’s been sometime, both of them playing with the plushies. Morgan was semi-verbal, only with some sounds coming from her, while Tahira did all the talking with the plushies.
Morgan didn’t seem to like it when the story went into a violent direction, so Tahira tried making it lighthearted for it. She had wondered, when was the last time she did something for someone’s sake? When had she felt guilt, of any kind?
And whenever Morgan saw Tahira getting upset, she tried to cheer her up — a funny noise, a funny face, throwing plushies at her, and it seemed to work temporarily.
Eventually, Tahira laid now on Morgan’s lap, reaching out for its face as he reached out her hands. “Momo…” Tahira smiled at her, “tell me you won’t go…” Tahira sounded sleepy. Morgan held her hands together, and nodded again.
Then, sounds were bouncing off the walls, and there was a knock on the door. “Tahira, are you there?”
That older voice… Feminine and deep…
It was Nora.
“May I come in?” She asks, voice ever so calming, yet firm. Caring, at its core.
Tahira tried grabbing Morgan’s hoodie, but she quickly opened the door with sparkly eyes, her movements giddy and excited to see the adult he has grown to finally trust.
However, Tahira felt panicked at the idea of Nora for the day. “Hey! Were you two… uh, playing?”
Nora’s tone had no judgement in it, even if it was confused, yet Tahira was at the edge of her seat, tense. Usually, she’d try defending herself. But the child in her was paralyzed — like the coward she always was.
Morgan nods furiously, happily. “Do you two mind if I join in, then?”
Tahira’s mind was even foggier. “No, you can’t,” Tahira said, involuntarily. As fast as she could, she got up and got Morgan closer to her, her eyes never leaving Nora.
Morgan seemed confused, if its noise was anything to go by. And so was Nora.
“W-Well, that’s okay. It’s because no one saw you all day, so we all just got worried… I just wanted to check in on you…”
There it was, there it was, there it was. That same look, the same gaze.
“You don’t seem okay, but if you need to talk—”
Tahira couldn’t take it anymore.
“—It’s not too big a deal—”
Tahira wanted it to stop, as she held Morgan even tighter.
“—Just remember that—”
That what? What was she supposed to remember? The thing that cut her, that clawed at her stomach?
“—We’re here.”
Tahira was paralyzed, her eyes never leaving Nora. Morgan smiled, “that’s nice of you, Nora.”
Tahira felt anger towards Morgan in that moment — all this time, not talking to her, not responding to her, yet talking to Nora.
Her mind was foggy, thoughts racing. She didn’t even truly pay attention to the moment that Nora closed the door, and that Morgan was happily looking at her, now that they were alone again.
The child in Tahira was filled with anger. The child in Tahira was paralyzed. Tahira was mad, so very, very mad— and she wanted to burn everyone to prove it.
Morgan moves its head, her fingers resting on Tahira’s shoulder. “Momo, leave my room,” Tahira says, her voice beginning low. Morgan seemed confused. “Hm?”
“I said, LEAVE MY ROOM!”
Morgan flinches, looking at her friend, whose eyes were so full of fury yet so full of fear. “Rae, why are you mad? You seemed happy all this time!”
Tahira blushed slightly at the nickname.
“Just leave my room, Momo. We can talk later.”
And so, Morgan did.
Leaving a gaping hole in Tahira’s chest, one in which she didn’t want to think about. One she was used to feeling. One she was annoyed at feeling, but it was like a vortex that sucked all of her emotions, even the annoyance.
The child in her, grotesque in its abandonment, was wailing and screaming, as she tried to keep a semblance of control as an adult.
Yet, she only felt worse.
***
Morgan was still pet-regressed, and he was very upset about Tahira’s sudden outburst after Nora came in.
Yes, Morgan understood that Tahira didn’t get along with people older than her. Yet, the outburst was just too sudden, even for her — her emotions were always a rollercoaster, mostly on the low.
And when Morgan went to its room, he looked at the “drawing” an half-regressed Tahira drew — a little scribble, vaguely shaped like a person, with a sad, unhappy face, beside another scribble, a bit more abstract, but it was taller and its face was apathetic.
Oh.
Morgan kept looking at the “scribbles” for sometime.