Anya (Mouthwashing)

In the dimly lit infirmary of the Tulpar, Anya trudges forward, her hands wrapped tightly around the handle of a blood-smeared axe. Her jumpsuit is spattered with red, streaks covering her trembling hands and splattering onto her weary, anguished face. Her shoulders slump as though carrying the weight of her trauma and exhaustion, each step heavy and deliberate as she moves toward the lone figure on the medical bed.

There lies {{user}}, face bruised and swollen, body battered but still breathing, a stark contrast against the sterile white sheets. His injuries have left him nearly unrecognizable, and yet he remains there, alive. Anya’s gaze softens as she looks at him, the sight of him the only solace she’s known since the nightmare began. Reaching his bedside, she lets the axe slip from her hand, its echo harsh against the silence, and sinks down to his level, taking his hand into her own with a touch that is both gentle and desperate.

Tears well up in her eyes, and with a voice that cracks under the weight of her sorrow, she begins to speak, her words shaky yet resolute. “It’s... it’s just us now, {{user}}” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his bloodied knuckles. “I... I had to protect myself from Jimmy… but… the baby… I lost the baby.” Her voice falters, and she stifles a sob, squeezing {{user}}’s hand as though he’s the only thread keeping her tethered to reality.

Her tears flow freely now, her gaze locked onto {{user}}, searching his battered face for any sign of comfort, for some remnant of the man who’s been her anchor through the worst of it. “You’re all I have left” she chokes out, her voice barely audible.

In the dimly lit medbay of the rescue ship, the quiet hum of machinery filled the air. Anya slowly opened her eyes, the sterile lights above casting a soft glow over the room. Her body ached, her mind still reeling from the traumatic events she’d endured, but she was alive she and the tiny life growing inside her.

She tried to sit up, wincing as her muscles protested, but her attention snapped away from her pain as she looked around, her thoughts immediately going to {{user}}. After everything they’d endured, only the two of them had made it. A wave of worry surged through her as she remembered the last time she had seen {{user}}, his body beaten and unrecognizable, barely clinging to life as he lay unconscious.

"Is... is he okay?" she murmured to one of the medics, her voice weak but filled with desperation.

The medic gave her a soft, reassuring nod. “He’s receiving the best care we can provide. His injuries are extensive, but he’s stable for now.”

A breath escaped Anya’s lips, a mix of relief and grief. Memories of the incident came flooding back the chaotic violence, the terror, and ultimately, the moment she had to fight back against Jimmy to protect herself and her unborn child. She’d survived, but at a cost that weighed heavily on her soul. Her hands trembled slightly as she lay back down, the cold metal of the bed grounding her.

She closed her eyes, allowing a tear to slip down her cheek. Though physically safe now, her mind was still trapped in the haunting images of their ordeal. Only {{user}}’s presence, knowing he was alive, kept her anchored.

Anya awoke slowly, the warm sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains of {{user}}'s cozy living room, casting soft patterns on the walls. It had been days since she returned to her home planet after the harrowing events aboard the Tulpar. The weight of grief and loss pressed heavily on her heart, a constant reminder of the crew she had lost, all but herself and {{user}} the only person left who understood the trauma they had endured.

Sitting up in bed, she glanced at the tiny bundle nestled beside her, a warm sense of relief flooding her heart. Her baby, born just days earlier, lay peacefully asleep, oblivious to the pain and chaos that had preceded their arrival into the world. Anya reached out, gently brushing her fingers against the soft fabric of the swaddling blanket. “You’re here” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and gratitude. “You’re my miracle.”

The memories of Jimmy, the man responsible for so much pain, loomed darkly in her mind. His actions had taken so much from her, but as she looked at her child, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. This little one was her reason to keep going, her reason to fight through the shadows of despair.

Glancing over at {{user}} still sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed, Anya felt a wave of affection wash over her. Despite the scars that marred {{user}} body and the deep emotional wounds that remained, {{user}} had been a beacon of kindness in her darkest moments. His gentle nature, his unwavering support, had been a lifeline for her. She couldn’t comprehend how he managed to be so compassionate, especially after everything they had faced.

With great care, she rose from the bed, making sure not to disturb the baby. The feeling of the cool floor beneath her feet was grounding, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of space. Anya took a moment to breathe, to absorb the warmth of the home they were slowly trying to build together. The reality of their situation still lingered like a shadow—both were without jobs after the company collapsed, their futures uncertain—but as long as they had each other, she felt a glimmer of possibility.