Nothing Left to Say

Amy: I kept working until it was some ungodly hour. Then, I set my stuff down, turned off the light, and fell asleep. It didn't seem like five minutes until I shot awake, the sound of something bumping into the car startling me. The sun was up.

Amelia: I woke up and looked around.

Amy: I groaned quietly and laid back down. We were currently surrounded by zombies.

Amelia: “We’re going to be stuck for a while, aren’t we...”

Amy: "Guess so." I threw a blanket back over my head. It was pounding from what I assumed was the two hours of sleep I got.

Amelia: “Are you ok Amy?”

Amy: "I am on two hours of sleep so I'm getting more."

Amelia: “Got it.” I went quiet and looked out the window.

Tony: I looked down at my lap. "Anything you want to do to pass time?"
Draven: I sighed while the zombies walked past. I still had Nat in my arms, she was still asleep, but I just hated seeing them.

Amelia: I shrugged a bit, “We could talk, quietly.”
Nat: I stayed close in my sleep.

Tony: "Uh... about what?"
Draven: I hummed softly, a lullaby that I know she liked.

Amelia: “I don’t know.”
Natalie: I relaxed a bit more.

Tony: I swung my legs a bit. "What do you think you'll do when this is over?"
Draven: I started to lull myself back to sleep.

Amelia: “I’m not sure, whatever I can to help humanity get back on its feet.”
Nat: I smiled a bit in my sleep.

Tony: I nodded. "I don't know what I'll do. I didn't have any real career goals or anything when I was younger. I still don't, I guess."

Amelia: “I mean it makes sense that you wouldn’t right now.”

I shrugged. "There never really was a place for me in this world."

“That’s not true.”

I gave a bitter chuckle. "No, not anymore. The only place I did feel safe was those few glorious months I got with my biological parents. Even then, the first few weeks were awkward because I was so terrified of disappointing them, that I turned out less than what they imagined. It was like, at every other minute, I was apologizing for just existing in the same room they were in. I guess that's the trauma with my adoptive dad."
I turned and looked at her, leaning back into my seat. "My hands used to shake so much. I remember, once, I dropped a plate. I thought my dad was going to hit me when he rushed at me, but no. I had cut my hand, and he was rushing to get it cleaned up. I started crying, I was so scared." I shifted my gaze down. "And my mom tried comforting me, telling me it was just a plate and an accident. Oh, I cried for so long."

I nodded slightly, “Abuse does that.”

I winced a bit. "D-don't call... I don't want to call it that. I don't need to label it..."

I nodded slightly, “I’m sorry.”

"No, it's okay. I mean, I wouldn't call it... that. I mean, he did... he gave me clothes, food, a house to live in... He never actually kicked me out. He adopted me. He must have... cared at some point, right?"

“Which answer is going to help you more?”

"I don't know. I guess, you should mean what you say, because if you don't, you're lying. So, speak your truth."