Chapter Text
May 14 2029
The night had been just like any other. The feeling of sweat beading on your forehead, your hand twitching and your eyes clamping shut before shooting up from your bedroll, taking in gulps of air and reaching to touch grass in a desperate attempt to remember your surroundings and ground yourself.
Your eyes searched the camp finding everybody else sleeping, no sounds aside from the rhythmic snoring come from near Jimmy Jimmy and the soft melody of the morning birds.
You had began to shuffle back into your bedroll before sensing an alarming presence that made the hair in the back of your neck spike up. Across the camp from you Jimmima had suddenly waken and taken and interest in observing you.
Though Jimmima had been one of the original members of the Fingers along with you, the two of you had never really connected. In fact she had never truly connected with anyone. There had been a time when you had taken pity on her but by the actions of her own insanity, your pity had quickly been revoked.
While she started you down a sly grin slipped across her face, most likely noticing your obvious distress. It was no secret you had night terrors. Everybody had complained about it at least once, blaming the bad nights where you would wake up wailing or screaming as an inconvenience to a good nights rest that would even attract demons in the dark.
No matter how many times you had apologised and sworn to try better to control them it was always taken with a grain of salt given the amount of times you had tried to keep them at bay.
More of the camp had began to scuffle awake to the sounds of the birds and the sun peeking through the trees. You slowly peeled your blanket off of your legs before standing up to stretch with the rest of the gang.
Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal emerged from his tent scratching his scalp and stifled his yawn. Like a dog to its master every single members head whipped around granting him their full attention.
“Good morning fingers,” he greeted opening his arms into a welcoming gesture that also, unsettlingly declared his power. “Today is a new day to make Old Nick proud. We’ll be traveling Cradles Knock today. Prepare yourselves for the day. Howzat?”
‘Howzat’ was repeated back to him like a prayer in church. To repeat it was an unconscious thought for you by now, the word slipping off your tongue sounding more familiar than your own name.
You bent down packing up your bedroll and shoving it messily into your backpack, filling it to the brim. Although your bag was full there wasn’t much to show for it anyway. There was crumpled pages you had found during raids and felt a personal pride to own, there was loose pieces of thread you had declared pieces of jewellery along with your pocketknife in the front pocket.
When you had finally managed to zip up your bag you slung it around one shoulder, seemingly finishing packing up around the time the rest of the gang had.
“Right me fingers. Shall we head out?” Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal inquired. The fact was it was really more of a command considering no one would dare go against his word at risk of inconveniencing him or even perish the thought of aggravating Old Nick for not being on schedule.
Sir Lord Jimmy Crystals questions was met with the silent nod of heads from a couple fingers including yourself, and an “Aye sir,” from Jimmy Shite.
As everybody began to head out you found yourself trudging along the damp soil with Jimmy Ink in a comfortable silence. Your relationship was complicated with her. You had known her the since you were six while she was eight, and would definitely dare to say you would be the closest with her out of all the fingers.
The closeness was what confused you. You two weren’t and would never be best friends. You were so much more than that but too little to have an exact word to describe it. From recent years she had comforted you from your troubles and hardships, no matter how delirious you had been she was your anchor back to reality.
You looked towards her walking at a slower pace as you studied her face, remembering each detail linking it back to a moment the two of you had shared. When you had traced her scar gliding across her cheek with shaky fingers, the curve of her lips when she had brushed them against yours so many times, the exact hue of her eyes when you had stared into them time after time. She always grounded you even if she was unaware of it.
Just as you were seconds away from initiating a conversation you heard her name being called from behind you from a much too familiar voice. Both of your head whipped around to see Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal standing behind you with a sickly sweet grin on his face.
“Mind if I talk to me daughter?” He motioned to you with his arm, outstretched as if he was about to embrace you in some kind of side hug.
Jimmy Ink shrugged at him before uttering a, “Not at all sir.”
Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal had taken a firm grip of your shoulder watching as Jimmy ink shuffled away following the rest of the group before he released your shoulder and stood face to face with you.
“Tell me, me dear.” He proclaimed, not quite making eye contact with you but rather looking towards the sky, “Did you have yer’ nightmares again?”
You looked towards the ground staring at the grime on your boot, “Yes father.” You mumbled before looking back up towards him.
“Good. Old Nick gives you this visions for a reason. No matter what they may be, they will be useful.” He grinned and placed his hand on the top of your head, not patting it but just resting it there until he felt fit to remove it.
The truth was you could never really remember your nightmares. Sure, you could remember blood, hair-pulling, tears and screaming but you couldn’t pin point the context of the dreams.
Your head snapped back up onto your father when he said your name. He didn’t say it often, mostly referring to you as his ‘daughter’ or even his ‘blood’ while giving speeches to the rest of the gang.
“Ye’ know I love ye’ right? I’m doing this all for ye’. Old Nick is so proud of you, as well am I.”
You disassociated at the repeated mention of Old Nick. You had always been confused on why Old Nick had always spoken through your father and never yourself. You used to spiral for hours leading to you believing you were never enough for Old Nick eventually transitioning to doubt in your father’s preachings.
You had started rebel against the group when you refused to wear the itchy wig Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal had so harshly tried to whip you back to wearing it. When he finally accepted your refusal to any punishment he threw your way-beatings, humiliation or labour- he had excused your behaviour to the gang by reasoning you were of Old Nick’s lineage and had no requirement to wear a wig from then on.
Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal places his hand back on your shoulder guiding you ban in the direction of the rest of the gang, towards
Cradles Knock, towards the same loop you had always gone through.
Thief,
Torture,
Kill,
Allow every single trip to blur together until you lost count of the amount of lives were lost at your hand.