The Devil is Watching You

•22•

(NOT EDITED) (SORRY)

Ten minutes pass and Armins tears seem to dissipate. You have moved so your back is now against the wall, Armins head leaning on your shoulder, breathing slowly.

Your hands are folded in your lap, and you're rubbing your thumb over your knuckles, not sure if you should speak first or let him when he's ready.

You feel stupid for telling him he needs to earn your forgiveness back, because if you're being honest, he already has it. It took you a minute, but you're able to accept the fact that he did what he did for good reasons.

Right now you have more important things on your mind than wether or not you should trust the person who only tried to help you. Instead, you need to figure out why your mind shut down when you took that mans life. Why don't you remember it and just how did you end up bludgeoning him to death when a simple stab wound would've sufficed.

Your eyes never been overcome with rage like that before. You should've known when enough was enough, but instead you decided to commit overkill and not even remember it.

Why didn't Colt or Bertholdt talk to you about it? They had all the chances to, but it was never brought up again. In fact, Colt made it clear to everyone that it was him that saved you.

"Are you hungry?" Armin sniffles, lifting his head off your shoulder.

"Not really," you shake your head. "I can make you something if you're hungry though."

"Oh you don't have to," he smiles sadly. "I'm going to shower and then cook something."

He stands up, reaching his slender hand down to you, your fingers locking around his as he pulls you to your feet.

"Sorry about your shirt," he cringes.

"It's okay," you smile. "I mean, I soaked yours the other day with my tears. I have to do laundry anyways, so don't worry too much."

"Thanks... for being so understanding."

"Of course," you nod and look down, realizing Armin still has your hand in his. "I'm going to go start that, actually. Enjoy your shower."

You pull away, practically speed walking back into your room to hide the flushed look on your face. You take the pile of dirty clothes in your hand and wait until you hear the water start in the bathroom to head outside.

You quickly fill up a bucket of water and add soap, letting your clothes soak in it as you go inside and start heating up some simple soup with just broth, chopped carrots and diced potatoes.

Armin should be out of the shower soon and you wanted to save him the trouble of making food, so you hope he like soup.

You head outside again, taking off your blouse, leaving you in a sheer cream colored tank top, the
lining at the top and bottom is made with white lace.

You dip the shirt into the bucket and stir it around with a stick along with your other clothes and then you wring them out, setting on the edge of the bucket to hang up once you're finished.

Your arms are sore from all the scrubbing, so you sit back on your heels, leaning over the bucket, your face staring into the water. Your reflection looks back at you , your eyes empty and solemn. It's been an emotional couple of days, so you're not surprised.

"Thanks for the soup," Armin's voice comes out of nowhere, causing you to fall back, pulling the bucket of water on top of you.

Your clothes are now wet, your tank top clinging to your body, leaving not much to the imagination. You groan in annoyance while Armin pulls the bucket off of you.