Chapter Text
There was something she’d noticed ever since she’d hit her head.
She couldn’t really taste anything. Or smell either.
She could taste, but not really. Everything felt... processed . It was so strange and hard to describe. It felt like rubbergum after it lost it’s taste, just rubber but it also felt like eating laffy taffy? A way to convey it would be like how sometimes when you smell something you can almost taste it. It was like that but the actual thing was eating didn’t have any taste, it was just the ‘smell’ making her believe there was. Everything she ate felt weird because of it. She could eat the nastiest of foods and the only thing she could ‘taste’ was the slightest hint of... pastels? Roses?
Point was, nothing she ate ever felt right.
(It felt fake)
She didn’t remember what it was like to eat something delicious and marvel at the flavor or to smell something pleasant and get hit by nostalgia. It felt like those funky restaurants she had seen some of her friends visiting once, before she was Katarina Claes. The bright neon lights, the chill vibe and everything. It was like that but with her taste and smell .
It was actually why she liked carrot cake so much. It didn’t make her tired from chewing tough meat and it didn’t slip over her tongue with a such a processed feeling to it that it made her kind of uncomfortable.
She was ok with eating everything though. She had always been a glutton and it seemed remembering a past life didn’t change that. If anything, it increased her appetite. She would never go out of her way to get food but if it was ever presented to her, she’d eat until she was full. But sometimes, she’d vomit up food that just felt too weird, or metallic.
Point was, food was weird with her. It was like water, bland with no taste but you really want it.
She snapped out of her musings as dessert was served. Wait, dessert...?
She glanced at Mother, who had her usual look of indifference. However Katarina had gotten good at reading her Mother’s expressions and she could tell she was not pleased.
She looked at her plate and frowned as she saw... chocolate. Just chocolate coated strawberries. That was not going to feel great. Looking around the table, she immediately fixated on Father’s plate. A small chocolate cake with no icing, what seemed like rough texture and strawberries on top? Well hot damn, she’d kill for that cake.
“Father, the cake, please?.”
She smiled, Father sighed, smiling, before signaling a servant to switch their plates. She grinned as the plate was set down infront of her, Mother sighing in exasperation and Keith chuckling as she dove in.
Huh.
It tasted... weird?
It didn’t taste any different than anything else but it made her mouth tingle a lot.
But chocolate isn’t spicy?
She ignored those thoughts, still eating though she slowed her pace.
For some reason, her stomach hurt. And her head was starting to ache.
Oh wow, she really felt like vomiting.
She stood, walking to leave the room
Something was rising up her throat, but it didn’t feel like vomit, it felt like the muddy sludge but... smoother?
“Katarina! Leaving the table without excusing yourself-”
She coughed, her hand reflexively going to her mouth as she felt a pounding in her head. She looked at her hand and saw
Blood?
She started to walk forward again and the next thing she knew she was on the ground, closing her eyes to try to block out the noise and the pain and it hurt .
Someone was shaking her, shaking her shoulder. A man was yelling in the background while a woman called for her. Her Mother and Father probably. A little boy was freaking out too, his voice being broken by slight sobs that made it hitch every now and then.
She closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep.
It hurt. So noisy too...
Slowly, something shifted. Her limbs were longer and the blood was far more in volume, the cool marble floor stinging her cheek turned into cool asphalt. Her mother’s cries turned into an old woman calling for her.
(i remember you, we used to play chess at the senior’s center, you’d always let me win
The other old folks would always joke about you going easy on me and you would deny it oh so vehemently
Right before you’d beat all those folks easily and tease them with me
Folks who could beat me without breaking a sweat
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I knew you cared
I’m sorry)
“GET A DOCTOR, NOW! Katarina! Katarina, Don’t close your eyes- just don't close your eyes okay?! You can have all the desserts and all the naps later just stay awake- God please-! ”
Her Father’s yells turned into a truck driver, yelling and shouting and almost weeping for what had happened and what would happen. To him, to his family, to the young girl lying on the cold cold ground who’s body was twisted in all the wrong ways
(“HEY! SOMEONE GET AN AMBULANCE PLEASE!”
“ Hey, hey, listen missy. You’re gonna be okay, we’ll get you to a hospital and I swear I’ll pay all the fees you need but please just try to stay awake, okay? It’s gonna be alright”)
Sorry.
“ Sister!”
(A little boy was crying. She used to ride on the school bus and he’d sit next to her and he would always fall asleep halfway through. She’d let him, even when he got drool on her uniform.
They’d walk to the gates together, he’d trail after her like a duck and she’d listen for the sound of tiny backpack wheels rolling on asphalt and slow down if they got too far away
She always used the remainder of her money to buy him something from the food vendors.
Some ice cream, maybe cotton candy, sometimes he’d act spoiled and ask for Crepes and how could she refuse?
Guess he’ll have to buy his own food now. And now that cramped van will be just a bit less crowded.
And the walk to school a bit less fun
A bit more lonely)
I’m sorry
She fought to stay awake, she’d regretted it once, she would not regret it twice
But mental will was not enough.
And then she was floating, floating.
Then, darkness.