Zoey woke up, the dreams of the night fading into nothingness as she came to. She wearily opened her amber eyes, blinking slowly until they stayed open. The interior of her APC was dark, it had no windows and she kept the lights off.
Lately she had been sleeping more and more, just taking her meds and passing out. But sometimes, the meds did nothing and she lay there, hour after hour, her mind denying her the rest she craved. Recently she hadn't been getting sleep at all. When the night passed, she tiredly did simple tasks all day. Tidy up the APC, organize her little plot of land, mend the fence that marked her territory.
Zoey sat up in bed, her legs stiff and her prosthetic arms barely responsive. Her neck hurt from an old injury, and her small cot inside her APC did little to help. Yesterday was not a good day. She was trying to help Etrius with his car, but ended up snapping a piston conrod, and even though he reassured her it wasn't a big deal, she just broke down and started sobbing.
These emotional breakdowns were getting more frequent. She wasn't sure if it was because of her age, her hormones, her trauma, or just her body and brain being weird. Today, she felt like shit. It was the same as any other day, but she had a lingering feeling today wasn't going to be her day.
As she sat at the edge of her bed, she reached for her bottle of antidepressants, accidentally using too much force and sending the bottle to the floor, spilling its contents. Her tail drooped and her ears flattened, and her eyes welled up with the beginnings of tears.
You're fucking useless.
The intrusive thoughts were always brutal, but they had been especially difficult to deal with as of late. They whispered to her, telling her what her trauma wanted her to hear. Telling her that she didn't matter, that nobody loved her, and that she had no reason to live.
You're stupid. You're a fuckup. You're worthless.
She stared at the bottle on the floor of the APC. She could easily make out the prescription notes, her vulpine vision cutting through the darkness. Take one tablet by mouth twice daily. This was for her depression. She was supposed to be taking more medicine for her alcoholism, and another med for her other addictions.
You're a clumsy idiot, pick that fucking bottle up.
She didn't. Instead, she picked one pill up, swallowed it, and got back into bed, closing her eyes and hoping the drowsiness and sedative effects would ease her into sleep. But it never happened. She always had nightmares. Every night.
She was back in the Nazi medical facility, strapped to a cold steel operating table. She was paralyzed, both from fear and from whatever they injected her with. Doctors in white scrubs used scalpels to cut her, while others pushed needles into her legs and shoulders.
She tried to cry out, but nothing came - forced to be silent while they performed experiments on her. When they were done, she was carried back into her cell and thrown onto her cot where she'd lay until the incapacitation wore off.
She sat there and cried. Then the guards came, beat her, raped her, made her cry even more, until she was out of tears to cry. Nose bleeding, bruised body, she lay there, hoping either sleep or death took her.
Zoey woke again with a gasp. Looking at her alarm clock through teary eyes, it was only two in the morning. Swinging her legs over the side of her cot, she felt the cold metal floor of her APC. It grounded her, but wasn't much. Putting her face in her prosthetic hands, she let out a sob, one after the other.
Useless piece of shit, do something other than cry.
She liked being by herself - except when things were like this. If anything, she could really use someone for comfort, if only to hold her hand, give her a hug, or let her rest her head on their shoulder. But right now, she had no one.
The lonliness was what hurt the most.
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