Work Text:
Dark.
Cold.
Smells like meat.
Old blood, thick, sticky.
I hate the smell.
But I stay.
It's warmer than Out.
Curl up under the table.
The bones don't move.
They're safe.
They don't scream.
They don't chase.
They don't hurt.
Wind rattles the boards again.
Creak, creak, creak.
Like footsteps.
Crawl behind the sacks.
Don't breathe.
Don't move.
Don't blink.
Big eyes, watching from the dark.
No, not today.
Too tired to run.
Too hungry to hide.
Tummy hurts.
Gnaws like teeth inside.
Like claws, scratching.
Always scratching.
Lick my fingers.
Taste is old.
Dust and dirt.
Wood and fear.
Better than nothing.
Crunch.
Wood again, louder.
A step.
Another.
Too careful.
Not like the big one.
Not heavy enough.
Light.
Eyes narrow.
Breath catches.
Crawl low, under hanging skins.
Drip.
Wet.
Don't look.
There—
By the door.
Not the big one.
Not bones and boots.
A kid.
A boy, I think.
Wrapped in something.
Face?
No.
Mask.
Too big for his head.
He sees me.
Freeze.
He stops.
No weapon.
Just him.
Still.
Watching.
Hiss.
Teeth bare.
Snarl.
Make myself big.
Go away go away go away—
But he doesn't.
He kneels.
Slow.
Hands out.
Empty.
He speaks.
Noise noise noise.
Don't know the words.
Shake my head.
Back away.
Crawl under desk.
He follows.
Careful.
He talks again.
Soft noise.
Growl.
Low.
Leave me alone.
You'll eat me.
He pulls something out.
Wrapped in paper.
Food?
It smells.
Tummy growls.
Loud.
No no no—
Curl up.
Arms around tummy.
Pain!
So much pain!
Hunger is claws now.
Scratching inside.
Screaming.
He moves closer.
Holds the thing out.
Not too close.
He doesn't reach.
Just holds.
Waits.
Why?
They never wait.
They take.
They kill.
But he waits.
Crawl forward.
Ready to run.
Or bite.
Sniff.
Meat.
Fresh.
Mouth waters.
Too much.
Too fast.
Swallow it down.
He says more words.
Soft noise.
Still waiting.
He smells like wind and dust.
Like Out.
Like before.
He's not like the big one.
Not like the man with the gun.
Snatch the food.
Rip paper.
Shove it in my mouth.
Chew.
Swallow.
Too fast.
He flinches.
He doesn't stop me.
Just watches.
Crawl back.
Not far.
Just enough.
Lick fingers.
Eyes on him.
He stands.
Steps back.
Then turns.
Walks toward the door.
Stops.
Looks back.
Waits.
...why?
No trust.
Not yet.
But...
He has food.
He didn't hurt me.
I move.
Slow.
Limbs stiff.
Shake dust off.
Sniff the air.
Still smells like meat.
But fainter now.
Maybe I can leave it behind.
I follow him.
Close to the dirt.
Quiet.
Like a shadow.
He doesn't look back.
I keep my distance.
But I follow.