Everything was hard to process.

God- why couldn't you think-

There was no feeling in your arms, and if you did feel anything, it was the numb rush of blood as it tried pumping through your limbs.

Everything was dark- you could barely breath, let alone open your eyes- your heartbeat was the only sound you heard.

Breath- breath- breath-

Why was breathing so hard-

What the hell happened to you-

Your face was just as numb as everything else in your body- eyelids refusing to open no matter how much you tried to will them to-

Your thoughts were fleeting- sparking to life every few seconds before fizzling into nothing-

Concentrating was impossible-

Everything was so damn loud- yet so fucking quiet at the same time- and it made frustration bubble deep inside of you-

Your eyes stung- and for a second you realized that was the first thing you felt since half coming into consciousness.

Why did they sting?

The sensation of water rolling down your cheek made you flinch.

Water?

No-

Not water-

You were crying-

Fuck-

Why were you crying?

Were you angry? or frustrated?

Why were you either of those?

Were you trying to do something?

Your mind fizzled again- and your thoughts fell away-

Water down your cheeks?

Not water-

Tears-

You were crying-

Fuck-

Hadn't you been over this before?

How many times had you been over this before?

The tears were silent and picking up in pace the longer your mind ran in circles-

A sob came out of your throat-

Fustrated because you still. Weren't. Waking up.

Fustration burned in you- burned so hot that for the briefest breath you took, you felt life-

Life in all its shitty feelings and happiest moments-

You felt the aching in your body- the soreness of your pounding head- the shaking pull of your lunges as they burned on cold air.

Then you fizzled out again- and any sort of stirring that had been happening vanished-

Back into nothing-

Back into the submersion of empty thoughts and numb questions.

Why couldn't you wake up?

Why weren't your eyes opening??

Noises were coming from you- and that was better progress then nothing- but everything still felt so insensate.

A rattling noise came from somewhere around you-

No-

Not rattling-

Creaking-

Wood-

The squeal of weight being pressed against wood-

It was so loud in your head-

So loud compared to your heartbeat- and your frustration- and all the beating heaving thoughts clattering around your head-

Footsteps?

Were they footsteps?

You tried to will your voice to sound- tried to speak of all the frustration inside of you- but all the thoughts condensed into one single drop of information-

A groan-

A sad, pitiful, begging noise that hit the air and made you cringe-

You couldn't speak.

Speaking was too hard.

The footsteps didn't falter- heading straight towards you- still too loud- before they paused beside you.

Something pressed directly against the tears on your cheek- and suddenly you knew why you were numb.

A warmth so intense emitted against your cheek- so so warm- so

Warm-

You felt your head curl into whatever was there- a relieved breath escaping you-

A response you couldn't possibly control, because now that you were made aware of what was happening- you were shivering-

Heat-

So warm-

Fuck-

You were numb with-

You couldn't fucking-

You're teeth were chattering loudly-

You knew exactly what was fucking happening-

...

You were cold.

And you needed warmth if you wanted a chance to properly think- or move- or stop short circuiting every five seconds-

The warmth starts retreating-

And you weren't going to fucking let it get away that easily-

You muster every piece of determination you could- every fiber of energy you have left-

All to shoot your hand forward and latch onto whatever it was that wiped at your tears.

N o.

Was what you wanted to say.

You're not leaving.

Was what you wanted to state.

Nothing but a disgruntled whine came out of you as you held what seemed to be a hand in place, farther pressing your face into it.

You're not leaving me here alone with all the thousands of pointless questions that endlessly churn in my mind.

Again- nothing came of it-

No vowels being uttered- or consonants falling from your frozen lips-

Just-

Noise.

Primitive.

But the hand seemed to understand.

It paused- the wood creaked- and suddenly you had full rein to hug an entire arm- not just a hand

Which you did-

You clung to a faceless arm- and you tried to wake up so as to fully assess what had happened- and where you were- and who was with you-

But none of that happened- because the void of sleep engulfed you-

...

When you awoke-

The arm was gone-

And it was complete torture yet again-

But this time-

You felt more in control.

You felt like opening your eyes was just a cat's hair away from a reality-

Your voice made noises more spaced- even if you had to focus to do that- it was better then just cluttered groaning. Exhaustion set in again- and your mind fizzled into sleep, before finally-

Finally.

You pried your eyes open.

Sight was a challenge- blurred over and unfocused for minutes on end.

How long had you been out?

How long had your mind been flickering between on and off?

It didn't matter now you supposed.

You were awake.

In a foreign bed- still slumped with no energy to think of moving, but finally conscious.

"...What.... the.. fuck happened-" you hoarsely whisper- completely to yourself, staring up at the ceiling as your vision incrementally got more focused.  You regret whispering, as instantly something in your lunges spiked with a burning pain.

Your voice was crackling with lack of use, and breathing hurt.

Every breath you took felt like swallowing a bucket of needles- the burning sensation of pain a constant snap to reality.

Water-

Water sounded heavenly-

But you could barely blink, let alone stand to look for some.

Was- was anyone even here with you? Or were you alone?

Your head pounded with the onslaught of questions that poured into your mind at that thought.

Who was with you-

Where they went-

What were their intentions-

Someone had to have moved you here.

Because you don't remember walking to some random... cottage?? If the ceiling rafters were anything to go by.

You lay there for a few more minutes- waiting on nothing, blankly staring at the ceiling, because you couldn't even turn your head with how weak you were.

After a few more moments, a noise sounded below. The creaking of wood- and the gentle pop of fire.

The creaking noise and a small disgruntled voice from below sounded earily like someone was finally standing up after sitting for a few hours.

Shit-

Maybe you weren't ready to face whoever has you here-

Not that you had a choice- because the creaking noise from below turned into footsteps, and footsteps turned into the creak of a ladder-

They were now on the same floor as you- and the fact that you couldn't turn your head made this like a nightmare. Like sleep paralysis, only whoever was with you could actually do horrible things to you and you wouldn't be able to stop them.

A gasp sounds from across the room, and the footsteps pick up in pace, hurriedly stopping next to you, and finally, you caught sight of who it was.

Phil-

Holy shit-

Phil-

You try and speak- but in your excitement no words come out- only a happy humming noise that makes you cough-

Coughing is terrible- your lunges feeling like they're ripping apart with each heave of breath-

"Woah woah- slow down mate-" Phil starts, moving out of your peripheral before coming back with a glass of water.

When he trys to hand it to you, and you don't move- he stares for a long moment before a light bulb went off in his head-

"Oh shit- sorry- I didn't think it was that bad-" He pulls away- the thunk of the glass cup touching down somewhere in the room, before you feel hands grabbing you, forcing you up straight as some pillows get stuffed behind your back.

"Better?" He says- looking at you, still in your peripheral, because even moving your eyes around felt impossible.

Instead of answering, you make a grunting humming noise- and he moves around again, cup of water pressed to your lips.

Fuck-

If you could even swallow-

The water runs right down your chin- and when he pulls the cup away you wanted to yell in frustration-

You wanted that water- you really did- but it was just hard to actually drink-

"Shit- my bad-" Phil laughs, "You are very limp right now-"

You want to glare at Phil- but he turns his back to look for something- immediately sending everything on a table clattering to the ground with a swoop of his wings-

"Shit."

Phil.

Please.

Stop knocking things over- you wanted water.

He moves around, picking up the things he knocked over- one of which sounded a lot like a glass of water-

"Hold tight mate- I'll be right back-"

No.

Stay.

Please.

Don't leave me alone-

Anything but being alone again-

This time you had a view of the ladder- vaguely watching him go down it- once again submerging you in silence.

Fuck.

He left you.

Your heart picked up pace in panic- as you stared at a tight room.

An attic?

You used to have an attic to sleep in.

This one seemed quite barren. No keepsakes, or pictures-

Just blank woods walls.

It smelled fresh- like someone had just built the area.

Built the house just to leave you alone in it- great-

A new sound echoed downstairs, the swing of a door opening before clunking back shut with a hefty bolting noise.

A chill swept in with the door, and you shivered, already cold enough as it is. Phil's voice sounded out, muffled from the floorboards, saying something and being returned by a gravely blank reply.

The voices picked up in volume for a brief second, excitement- then dread- for whatever reason- and then the creaking of the ladder started and the two voices made their way up the ladder.

Phil emerged first with a fresh glass of water, wasting no time and walking to the side of your bed to check and see if you were still awake, "Good, your still here-" He huffs, and looks at the ladder just in time for someone else to make their way up.

Pink hair, glinting crown?

Techno-

He was free of the bone mask he usually wears, scars on full display as he meanders.

...What was Techno doing here...?

Isn't he always far away from people and gathering supplies?

With a start- everything you hadn't been fully remembering comes rushing back. The withers- Techno covered in blood- Tommy being blown away by withers-- He could be dead right now. And what are you doing?

Sitting in a bed-

How long were you out??

Where the fuck were you? And why is Techno here- the bloody fucker who started all of the fighting in the first place.

Techno approaches your bed, in very much the same fashion Phil had, an air of caution about him- like seeing you this weak wasn't something he should be seeing.

"I thought you'd never wake up." He says, crouching beside your bed to try and make eye contact- to try and get a reply- but you were motionless. His brows furrow immediately when you don't stir, before he looks to Phil, "What's wrong?"

"I mean- they did get pretty beat up. So being this limp is understanable." He holds the water out, "Aside from being limp they wouldn't drink anything either."

Techno frowns at the water, looking back at you, eyes flickering down to your chin, where Phil spilled water all over you.

He huffs, gesturing Phil to hand the water to him, which he gently plucks away, then gently presses it to your lips.

Not pushing for you to drink.

Just, resting it there.

Letting you try and muster the energy to drink rather then forcing.

After a few tense moments, you take a single sip- the water making your throat feel ten times better.

You hated not being able to actually do things. It was frustrating- and made you feel like yelling, but yelling was impossible.

You took one more sip before getting so frustrated at the help that you actually managed to pull the muscles of your face enough to glare. Half because you couldn't move, half because of what he fucking did.

Techno instantly retracts the water, handing it back to Phil before standing, and awkwardly hovering near you.

"What's making her..." Techno cuts off what he was saying, merely gesturing to your body in a, 'why can't I fix it' sort of way.

Phil takes a moment, finally loosing the lilt of silliness he had on, merely glancing to Techno before looking back at your body, "Getting injured- especially before the scales grow in is fatal to someone like her."

You wanted to yell-

Wanted to scream to Phil-

Please don't talk about it-

Please don't talk about anything you-

Because however much you trusted, or had a fondness for Techno- Or FUCk- wanted to beat his guts out for injuring your boy-

No.

You needed time- so much time to even consider telling him.

It was your secret to give, not Phil's.

Thankfully- where Phil seemed to lack the insight on your mind, Techno did.

He didn't pry into Phil for answers, didn't try and interrogate him for what you are- he just nodded, and accepted, and went on with whatever his life was like. Which was fixing you apparently.

"Again, she shouldn't be alive." Phil says after a moment, "Being this limp is pretty reasonable."

"I know Phil." Techno says, staring down at you with red eyes- strangely worried looking- so unnaturally expressive without his mask on.

"Give it time." Phil says. His hand reaches out, grabbing your arm for the briefest moment before laughing and saying, "And some more wood in the fireplace- gods she's cold."

You are-

You are so very cold, and Phil's hand felt like heaven- not nearly as warm as the first hand you grabbed, but heaven regardless.

Techno shuffles downstairs, presumably to do exactly as Phil suggested, and Phil takes a seat somewhere next to your bedside- and you still can't speak- and still can't move.

The rustle of a book's page flipping eventually lulled you off into whatever numb sleep you've been having. And that's honestly the best thing you can muster.