Don't Let The Bedbugs Bite

Kick isn’t sure what causes her to wake from her miserable sleep but once she’s up her body tightens like a taught bow. Her eyes feel puffy, her nose is stuffy but other than her sniffles, the safety & silence of the barracks remain steadfast. The multiple breaths and light snores of the villagers and her companion (Companions? Ha!) reminded her that she was no longer in her woods. She was now under the threat/orders of her betters. Her embarrassments and weakness in battle were no longer secrets confined to the birds and trees.
 
The voice came back to her without a pause for breath. It was the last thing she heard before she fell asleep and as usual it was the first as well.
 
Now they know what the tribe knew. Really Kick, you won by stupidity and throwing up on your enemy. Mother would die in embarrassment.
 
‘I know sis...’ Kick simpered into her dirty axe, holding it as a child would with their familiar or toy weapon. The curvy dark figure materialized at her side, stroking her limp hair with a dark jeering chuckle.
 
I’m actually kind of proud. Winning is winning even if you’re disgusting.
 
‘I’m not...I didn’t. It was just the potion...I thought it might heal. And these people...’ Kick’s voice trailed from a whisper to silence as her lips mouthed ‘...they needed help.’
 
Kick could feel her sister yanking and twisting her hair just from the mere memories, phantom pain bringing painful tears.
 
What have we told you about help? About caring? About all that bullshit?! Why do you not listen!?
 
The immediate apologetic response fell from her lips. The metal blade quivered as Kick curled her body into a tight fetal ball; holding with a grip so tight her hands started hurting. ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry my bosses wanted it I’m sorry I won’t help battle of the fittest those who can’t survive don’t deserve to survive I’m sorry I haven’t forgot’
 
When someone offers you power you take it. You don’t hesitate. You don’t throw it up. And when others lack it you let nature take effect. Power is for yourself. You take it until you can’t and then you die.
 
‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m learning my bosses are more powerful and I’ll learn and do what they say until I win and I won’t not respond and...’
 
“Child?” A gentle gloved hand touched Kick’s shivering body, brushing her shoulder in a parent’s late night gentleness. Kick gasped loudly as she fell from the other side of the cot. The axe’s hilt partially impales her but Kick makes as little of noise as possible as she avoids hitting another rough cot.
 
The urge to run is too great as Kick scoops up her axe and belts out of the barracks. Leaving a stunned makeshift guard in her wake.
 
Her urge to run and run blinds her to the wandering guards and the time of night.The background blurs. The voices don’t stop her. Inside her head and out. Her small halfling feet stumble over rock, makeshift graves, her mental anguish and rubble until she finds herself in a random group of trees. Amazingly empty and unburnt in the day’s madness.
 
“Why Mr. Mud? Why?!” Her pained cries force out other doubts. The axe drives deep into the dirt and pushes up rocks. “Is she right? What am I to do? Was that you? Should I just give in?” The jagged writing cuts into the earth without the fear she usually has in battle. Everything the family taught her was to train and fight and grow more powerful than the other. Why is she the one to crave people? To long for friends and the banishment of loneliness that had been forced onto her since birth. She had never wanted this. This weakness of detachment. These weird strengths for nature that just seemed to make her different.
 
The patter of tears blurred her own writing. She swore the words shifted and merged into different words. The fact her sister was silent was a miracle in itself.
 
The weight of the day quickly caught up to her. And without knowledge she somehow found her way back to the barracks.