Predator (DWT x OC)

47

Jack was gone, empty couch cushions, abandoned kitchens and left over bottles and crumpled clothes.

And yet, life kept moving on.

I burned the clothes, and the books, the fishing poles and bait buckets. The sad, half-empty remains of Jack Manifold ablaze in ferocious orange flames, heat clasping my face and neck as I watched it go, plumes of grey smoke and numb tears and terrible, horrible heartbreak that threatens to choke me.

His house sits empty, an awful, two story high reminder. I always take the long path back home, through the walls and around the back, and anywhere that isn't past there. Dream cleared it out, gave Niki all of his stuff while I sat and glowered in the corner.

It was all agony and pain and shuddering grief that rips through you with no mercy, until it wasn't. Until I propelled myself forward into a life that was running on without me, and I couldn't bear to be left behind.

Not now, not again.

The grief faded, the pain that used to grip my throat and stomp on my heart rarely strikes. The anger stayed, blazing fury that ignites every inch of my skin, bubbling just beneath the surface at the fucking thought of Fundy murdering Jack.

Niki still hurts, more than me. I let her, just like she let me when my life crumpled, and I collapsed under the weight of all the pain and the sadness and the overwhelming horror of it all. I make sure she eats, I keep the house clean, try not to let everything fall apart underneath her.

I work at the medical centre full time. It's easy, last winter colds, sprained wrists, babies that can't sleep, the occasional broken leg from a kid that falls from the tree. It distracts me, hands busy enough so I don't try and tear out Fundy's fucking throat whenever I have to see him, parading around with Schlatt and Quackity, Tubbo tagging along. Like he deserves to still be walking, like he even deserves to be fucking breathing right now.

And Tubbo, who won't speak to me, Tubbo who turned us all in to die.

But that's how the days go by, distraction and a healthy dose of homicidal fantasies. The empty hole doesn't fill, but as long as I can't feel it, I can keep moving.

I rest my head on the cold bench top, feeling my cheek press against smooth stone. The early morning light filters into the open room, the only sound soft padding footsteps behind me. I turn around to see Niki wrapped in a blanket, and I smile softly.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

She shrugs, eyes still focused in a deadpan stare, filled with blankness. She walks into the arms I open, pressing her face into the crook of my neck while I wrap my arms around her.

"I'm at work the whole day today, Eret's coming over." I tell her gently. "You want breakfast?"

She pulls back, shaking her head, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. I smile sadly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "You're going to have to eat lunch though, I'll make Eret find that pie you like, maybe you can go shopping with him."

Niki just sighs, leaning a little into the palm of my hand, covering it with her own. "Okay, maybe not today, I'm sorry. Go back to bed, it's too early to be up." I say, pushing myself to my feet and slinging my bag over one of my shoulders. Niki grabs onto my hand and squeezes, before tip toeing back to her bed. 

It's progress, she never really gets out of bed anymore. Eret doesn't have as much luck as I do, but I know she'll be safe with him while I'm working. 

Schlatt keeps me there all week, and I know it's so he can keep an eye on me. Every day, every moment, every goddamn second I can feel his fucking eyes on me, like a hawk, right through me, violating all my thoughts and feelings, even if he isn't actually there. There's always a panic that rises when I go home, like Niki isn't going to be there, and there's going to be bright red crimson splashed on the walls.