Chapter Text
Chiara Keter wouldn't be a name anyone would find on missing posters.
First off, everyone knew disappearances around town could mean a few couple of things.
Shunned from the community for their sins.
Ran away from the community and off into that decadent world the grown ups said was outside the town's borders.
And of course, there was the giant elephant in the room that was the small mountain in the town's view.
Missing people were missing people for a reason. You didn't go look for them. So, you didn't bother plastering their name and face all over the village's walls. If you cared a tad, you kept them in your prayers a couple of times and prayed their souls would find the path home, heaven or hell depending on who disappeared and why (and if you even wanted them back).
So no, going to search for missing people was a no go.
And you certainly didn't go look for Ebott climbers. Oh no, that you didn't. Unless you had a death wish.
Like Chiara Keter.
They themself weren't seeking anyone, not really. Not at all, if honesty was to be had.
On the contrary, they were moreso trying to do the opposite. Putting distance between them and people. Not going in a place where they knew might be people, but going somewhere they knew were none. Not a seeker of, but a mountain climber themself.
Fancy thing to call a runaway.
Fancy thing to call someone that wouldn't be called anything else than words they never wanted to hear ever again. If they were mentioned in town at all. They weren't sure they'd be for long.
Dirty dirty dirty words. In all ways words could be.
They left at night, just a bit before dawn. Scrambling out through the door, running as fast as they could with their parents on their trail, screaming their name so loud the kid heard it over their tinnitus.
The sun was nearly about to go down now. There'd been a full day for the townsfolk to take in their absence. Chiara wondered if they'd asked anyone to search around town after loosing them. Probably. Were they angry enough that they decided to check out the cursed mountain? It's what they had been fearing at first. Running through the dark, screaming at every branch cracking, praying it was a feral animal and not a familiar face. They'd have taken being confronted to a rabid creature over seeing anyone they knew from town.
They were calmer now though.
A full day of walking, running, climbing assured them of the evident distance they'd put between any person and them. They had stopped every now and then, weezing, stomach grumbling, shaking and aching, but never too long.
Well. They were calmer, but not calm. Bad idea to assume calmer meant calm. That'd be incorrect. An error. Mistake. Wrong.
But no matter, because they were climbing. Reaching for a destination. A final one. In whatever way this could be final.
Options. Variations. A same goal.
They climbed. Walked. Stumbled and fell. Looked up.
It wasn't exactly the mountain's top. Not really. They were near it, maybe. Or maybe that's what they wanted to think. They weren't stupid enough to hope it was, but maybe it could be, hypothetically. But regardless of where they were, it was deep in the forest. Deep in the forest, and it was cold.
Cold, cold, cold. Very cold. End of the year did that.
If only at least there could be snow. Then Chiara wouldn't feel like their every step was as loud as a pile of plates falling to the floor. Or a window breaking. Or being slammed head first into a mirror and shattering it.
(Or cracking floorboard at night when they just want to sleep and sleep and just sleep but there's sound and so they wouldn't be able to sleep or rest or be safe or breathe because sound meant someone creeping closer in the corridor and that was bad bad bad bad BAD BAD)
The back of their scalp still felt like it burned, sometimes. Even if there was no blood when they passed their scratched up hand in their thin hair. Merely bumpy little scars no one could see. No one they’d willingly let get close enough to see.
At least the piles of leaves weren't sharp shards. And they had shoes.
But they really really wouldn't have minded a coat.
Silly them. Was on them. Should've taken it out when they sneaked out. But they hadn't thought it efficient to do the detour and prolong the walk through the house. Wasn't much of a point trying to keep warm for long either. Reasons for being here rendered it useless in the long run they knew they wouldn't see.
Something creaked behind them. They'd been walking. Sun was setting. Maybe they saw something more between the branches. Maybe they didn't.
It looked human.
Maybe it was their head playing tricks on them. They needed sleep. They were exhausted. They were scared. Terrified. So terrified.
Ironically, even if they knew what they came here for, they realized they couldn't let anything get them. Especially not anyone.
So they ran. Their legs shook and burned and ached but run run run they'd sit later even if there was no later.
First thing was to put distance. Shadows stretched and looked wrong. Everything was too loud and cracked and something or someone was following maybe probably most likely always so they had to get out of there and
Find shelter. Shelter. Shelter shelter shelter shelter.
There was a gap in the wall. Shelter. Everything burned. They made a run for it, and arrived in a cave. Shelter. Burned more. Soon not if they could hide. Once behind the wall, they caught their breath, trying to stop making that high pitched sound at their every inhaled. Lungs burned. Rest not so much anymore, or not the same way.
Crack. Sound. Couldn't hear. Breath too loud. Had to keep moving. Keep running. It burned again and more.
They stumbled a few steps forward, vision blurry and black dots hovering everywhere.
Had to keep on move
Their foot refused to lift. Stuck on a root. They had to put their hands forward to intercept the fall and not stumble on their face because it ached already so hands forward and
Oh
There was no floor.
Well they wouldn't
Really manage not to ache
Not how they thought they'd go
But maybe
Maybe it was better
Wouldn't hesitate nor cower out
But still would've preferred
To chose when and
How
But they never
Could
Choose
And air brushed against their ears and screamed and their stomach was in their lungs and breathing was a funny oh so funny far away concept and hair slamming around in their eyes mouth and
They turned in the air face forward then too forward and then they were upside down then back with their feet down and
Slammed on the ground.
Everything went black and they stopped thinking. Or maybe they had stopped thinking the second their foot got stuck. They couldn't wonder about when they had, because they weren't anymore.
Until they were.
Again.
Excruciatingly slowly and oh so very suddenly, they were and were thinking again and all they could think about was pain.
Leg chest arms face head pain.
They tried to breathe. Someone was choking and holding them down again. Pressing their throat yet shoving their face down in the ground. Logic wasn't working but no matter since they were being actively torn apart.
Pressed to mush.
At least they weren't ripped open in the guts.
But it didn't actually matter because it hurt hurt hurt and Chiara wanted the hurt gone.
But they couldn't move to make it go and wait didn't work and please they needed it gone.
They wanted everything gone and for someone to be here and fix them somehow.
Nobody ever came.
Nobody would come. Not ever not before not now not here not ever ever ever.
But it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt and they needed someone here even if no one was here and help was silly because they didn't want help to survive this, but they needed help they needed help because it hurt it hurt so please for once they needed help more than anything.
Nothing happened.
They were in a swarm of darkness. Everything and everywhere hurt. All bright red hurt everywhere in everywhere deep black everything. Their everything was bright red behind their eyes and there were rocks crushing them and their bones and body, and rocks in their lungs and throat.
They needed to breathe. Needed to roll on their back. Where was their back. Where was anything. What was even left of them? Everything screamed. They were probably scattered around the floor in mushy, squishy parts.
Breathe breathe breathe they needed to breathe.
They tried tried tried to see their lungs in the sea of bright red in their mind, find the feeling amongst all of the others, amongst the loud ringing their head made.
There. There, lungs.
They took a huge breath at last and
Screamed.
Wrong again.
Breathing hurt hurt hurt even more and so they wanted to scream, but before they'd even processed that breathing was the thing hurting –so maybe let's not do that nor use lungs plus throat plus mouth plus vocal cord plus echo chamber in head plus ears plus everything that rang when they made sound– they screamed so it was wrong too and worse so much worse and they wanted to scream more which hurt hurt hurt hurt and everything hurt
Their chest was crushed and splitting apart and someone was tearing it apart even if it was facing the floor because they had to be splattered on the floor and all flat like the omelette they tried to make a week ago, splattered on the dirty floor with all its bits scattered around the main big one.
They stopped breathing. Hurt.
Then not breathing hurt.
So they breathed. It hurt.
So they stopped. Hurt hurt hurt.
Both hurt.
They hiccuped and their eyes burned and teared up even closed. This too, hurt.
They were face to the floor, mouth opened in the dirt and dust trying not to scream not to cry not to pant not to breathe but to breathe for it not to hurt but that hurt. Moving was a far far far far away thought.
They probably couldn't. Their limbs were probably away deep at the bottom of the hole they were in, that had to be why they weren't moving. They didn't know. Eyes were closed. Face to the floor too.
They nearly chocked on their own spit trying to breathe. They started shaking. It hurt worse.
Something was dripping down their face. They didn’t know what it was. Which it was. Probably both. Red and not red.
Please please they needed help. They needed help right now somehow but they were at the bottom of a hole they made sure no one would ever find them in because no no no no they wanted to be alone forever until they died and died soon and
They needed someone right now, even if that was the last thing they needed they needed it now because they were going to get swallowed and torn apart by the red hot burning pain.
Everything hurt so they called out.
The sound of their own voice terrified them.
It hurt.
But everything did.
Doing nothing hurt. But nothing happened.
Calling out hurt. But something could happen.
Their pleas resonated in their skull like they were right under church bells on a funeral. Loud loud loud loud loud and earsplitting and LOUD.
So loud the village had to hear them.
No no no no no not them not them no no no.
They lowered their voice. It hurt.
They rose it again.
Their mouth leaked something. They didn't know what it was but they knew they didn't have the strength to heave nor the focus to tell if it was an iron taste.
Their voice tore everywhere through their throat but they called out.
Words were a far away thought, but hopefully whatever mush of sounds they were making evoked their cry for help.
They ran out of sound. And breath. They needed to regain some, because someone or something was pushing a shard of rock in their lungs and that hurt hurt hurt.
Tried to breathe. It was stuck in their lungs. The pressure was getting to them. Maybe they were being crushed.
Somehow, they managed a hiccup.
They didn’t want to go like this. Not slowly.
Or if slowly, then painlessly.
If it had to be slow, let it be painless. If it had to hurt, let it be brief.
They thought the mountain would leave the choice up to them. Wither away from a hunger so great it’d dull out eventually, or trip, or jump in a crevice so deep they’d snap their neck clean and it’d be lights outs as quickly as a blink.
But maybe it was just cursed, and curses were rarely, if ever kind at all.
They were left to rot away at the bottom of a pit, the fall somehow not having killed them, left to rot and feel their outside decay like they were sure their insides already were.
Well. Wouldn’t that make it match. Make it symetrical, or, more accurately, equal. They liked using the correct words for things.
Too bad nobody ever listened to them.
Too bad nobody was here to hear them scream.
They gave up on trying to fight their fate when they saw it sealed. Maybe they should now too. They knew when things were pointless. Nobody would come. Not for them.
But it hurt.
And, somehow, over the ringing and their own complaints and stupid sounds and the blood beating in their ears, they heard something else.
Their brain pulling a trick on them like their parents always said it did. They imagined things all the time or made stuff up for attention. But maybe they could find comfort in that invention of theirs right now.
A voice.
Little voice.
Not low like adult’s were.
Funny. What was a kid doing in a place like this?
Even if it wasn’t real, hearing the child try and track them from not so far away gave them a split seconds of relief that granted them a few moments of numbness. Their limbs fell back in places and they tried to push on their elbows. Oh, they were on their tummy then.
They were so heavy.
Their eyes squinted open. They saw blurred brown and dripping red. Ooh. Not good. Head spun. Nosebleed.
“-allen- -ow- -ve- -ou?-”
What?
“-ou oka- -y?-”
O… okay?
They weren’t.
“-ere, get- -up-.”
Something incredibly soft grabbed under their armpits and lifted them upwards. They felt lighter.
Or more lightheaded.
Their vision blanked out, and when it stopped burning they were still held upright.
They found themself thankful of that fact. They would’ve thanked whoever was here, but the words might as well have took a habitat down their throat, and also they felt like throwing up.
Who was this person?
…
Wait, had they asked for their name? They didn’t recall. Had the kid said anything when their head went black a few seconds ago?
Stranger danger was a saying. They were the stranger here, clearly this kid lived here if they were here, wherever here that was. There was a risk they’d be left to fall should they be a stranger too long. They had to say their name.
The kid had asked, right?
They had to say who they were.
“Mmmhhh-”
...That was a poor start. Their tongue might weight as heavy as a house right now.
Had to push through, though.
“Aah- mmh. I-.”
…baby steps.
The other seemed patient, though. Wasn’t this a blessing.
Every syllable they uttered felt like it took an entire hour.
“I, ah, I’m.”
Almost there.
“I’m shh.” wrong syllable. “Chh-” same thing. “Keh-rrrrra”.
Close enough.
Not good enough.
“Chara, huh?”
No. Missed a whole letter. Pronounced it wrong because of it.
They tried to say no, but all that came out was something they heard like “nmgh-”, which the other most likely took as a “mh-mh” of approval.
Silly, silly Chiara. This was why they needed to use their words, and not sounds, like a “damn retarded bastard would”, as their parents said.
They couldn’t even say their own name right.
“That’s a nice name!”
...this other kid was really soft. In his words, the meaning he gave to them, and his clothes. They were leaning on him and he held them, hence hold they could tell.
Huh.
He was a boy.
How did they figure that out?
He thought their not name was nice. Well then. What could they respond to this?
Trick question. They couldn’t respond to anything. Their voice was far, far away.
They were getting far away too. Faint. Their vision darkened.
The boy’s voice was getting far away, too.
They took a step to try and walk towards it, hear it better. He was introducing himself, after all, and it was rude not to listen to people who were talking, after all.
“My n a m e i s-”
Their legs gave out and it all went black again, the ringing in their head shutting down at last, and with that, everything else.