Work Text:
There was a humongous, gaping hole in the wall of her parents’ room, a line of blood the width of herself leading out of it. She shut the door, promising never to return.
Amy opened the door to her brother's room, searching for relief, comfort, something to tell her that it was okay.
It was lumps of skin and hair and eyes and teeth, as if the muscle beneath the skin was ground beef in a baggie.
She spoke his name in a whisper made raspy from dehydration. She took a step and said it again. And again. And again.
Maybe she was lucky.
Amy wrapped her arm around him. It was him still, right? Even though he was just all on the ground?
A sob choked through to her core. No tears came, and little did she know, they would never come again.
She hugged him tighter, and tighter, and tighter. The little bobs on her head touched him, and she tensed, overwhelmed and confused.
She felt things that didn't make sense to feel all of a sudden.
She felt her body be more than it ever was before. She felt her body be out of her control, multiple pulses irritating her squirming insides.
She saw blurry, an echoed view of browns and golds and oranges and blues. A pale green blob of color that multiple points of vision focused on.
No sound aside from the heartbeats. No sound as she sobbed into his overwhelming mass.
Lonely, alone. Scared, terrified. Confused, so confused.
And hot, burning hot.
And one desperate, pleading, repeating thought. Mom. Dad. Sister.
Amy wasn't able to move for a while. She thought she couldn't. Once those bulbous feelers felt the cool air once more, the emotions were ripped from her.
Somehow, she felt what Tommy felt. And somehow, he didn't see her, feel her, hear her.
He was alone, purely alone and in agony, and she couldn't help him. She couldn't even comfort him.
Amy left her family home and never came back. Or so she thought.