Work Text:
It was often hard to tell what was real and what they were simply making up. Faces felt even harder to cling onto, but there was one voice their memory couldn't help but remain glued to. Maybe it was because his screaming was always a thin wall away at any given moment.
Time felt intangible, and whatever they told them felt even weirder to try and believe. Day and night could've been completely the same and they could've made up other times of day for their own convenience. At first, things felt easier to hold onto. Like trust, for one. They knew still they could trust him, but they had trusted them much more than they should've.
Give up your shoes for a day of being occupied with only your screams. Go without food a couple days and maybe their screaming would be softer. Their suffering was easier than his own. They couldn't see him for the wall between them was made of concrete rather than any sort of bars, but they could hear him, and they figured that was the same.
What was all of this for? They almost gained the courage and energy to ask once but had given up getting a glimpse of that blue that had once made their blood boil that now made their skin crawl.
Once they had spoken together when no one else was around. When they had the energy to speak loud enough for the other to hear despite the muffled volume. It wasn't like their usual conversations, but obviously, this wasn't their usual circumstances either.
"Mama, I'm scared. I wanna go home."
"I know. I do too. We'll go home someday, I promise."
They trusted him, loved him as much as the person who had formerly owned that title in their heart. But all they could do was hear his voice, and screams. They remembered crying themself to sleep that night. They thought they had heard him crying as well. Or maybe it was just a dream.
After all, they could hardly trust their thoughts on a place like this. Their own screams could've been echos or whispers of what wasn't even there.
They just wanted to go home.