fractured
Kazimir arrived at the diner. He looked around to find where Alfred was seated, but couldn't see him. The lady behind the counter noticed him and said, "Hey, silent boy, your brother's not here. Sit anywhere — I'll get you your food." As He silently walked towards the nearest empty table, he heard mumbling from behind the portions bar. An old man with a cranky voice said, "The officer is not his brother. They're just friends." The lady responded, "Shut up, Dave. take your food and go."
When Alfred arrived, he went to the portions bar to get the portions. The lady at the bar told him, "Your silent brother took it a while ago."
"Did he say anything?" He asked.
"No, still a mute."
"What was he like?"
"Nothing much."
"Thanks anyway. He needs all the help he can get."
After Alfred sat opposite kazimir, he tried to spark conversation, "What with this cooked lupine? We're Really running short on food? Anyway, I heard you opened up a little bit to the food lady." He was fishing for a response. Trying to squeeze a few words out of Kazimir.
kazimir kept silent. Only playing with his food.
"Ah, no words." Alfred said. Then he muttered just loud enough for kazimir to hear: "I guess that therapist's still digging around for your little spine. Huh, princess?"
kazimir looked up at him and said, "How's the scar I gave you? Want another one?"
"Here you go!" Alfred perked up, a hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes — finally, a reaction. "How hard was that? I guess Dr. Post is really good. You know, she insisted on scheduling my session after yours today. After I finish, I'll come to your room to have another game. You good with that?"
"Yeah." Kazimir answered. He said it like it took effort — more effort that it should've.
"Come on, give me more than a 'yeah'. You're being an asshole right now."
Kazimir didn't respond.
"Didn't Erdmann fix your voice, little princess, or did you bore him to let you go?"
"I am fine," Kazimir said, "worry about yourself. And aren't you late for your workout?"
"Fine. I'll leave you to doing nothing. See you tonight." Alfred said. He got up, nudged the chair back with his knee. Before he started walking away, he glanced at Kazimir and said with a half-smirk, "Don't kill yourself before nine."
In the dark, deep corner of the dining room sat six guards. Some stared blankly at each other, the rest pushed the food into their mouths without tasting it—just going through the motions. Their eyes were hollow, glazed over with a kind of vacancy that looked permanent. Faint cracks branched from their sockets, longer and darker than the ones on Kazimir or Alfred. They looked less like injuries and more like a mark— proof of something that had touched them outside the wall.
Like Kazimir and Alfred, they had survived Day Zero — but at what cost? Their memories were fractured, their speech is gone, and their awareness is fading. Whatever they'd seen had left them ghosts of themselves.