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Happy February!

Angstuary is over and I am taking a little hiatus; thanks for reading!

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Agere Angstuary Day Thirty-One

A regressor finds comfort in an evil movie character, and their caregiver tries to hide how triggering the character is for them.

Heads up: this ficlet contains a character hiding severe discomfort, as well as references to an R-rated movie.

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“Here he comes, here he comes!”

Carol was bouncing in her seat with excitement. Linus was much less enthused.

As they watched, Clarice Starling approached the glass-walled cell and Hannibal Lecter came into view.

“ ‘Good morning’,” Carol whispered at the same time as the man onscreen. She giggled and flapped her hands. “He says ‘good morning’ just like you do!”

Linus chuckled nervously. “Heh, yeah, I guess so.”

Carol didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, her eyes fixed on the TV. Linus, meanwhile, was trying to avoid looking at the screen.

Carol had a million reasons for why she liked Hannibal so much; “He’s super smart, and he’d protect me, and we could draw together, and-”

Linus, on the other hand, couldn’t have properly explained why even thinking about the character turned his stomach. It was just one of those things, he supposed; the same way he hated the taste of pickles, he hated “The Silence of the Lambs”. Everything about the film made him feel sick, and Hannibal himself was especially unsettling.

But Carol didn’t need to know that. She’d been through so much in her life, had so many reasons to be unhappy. If this movie made her giddy, Linus certainly wasn’t going to stand in her way.

Even if every line Anthony Hopkins delivered made his skin crawl.

Even if his piercing eyes made Linus feel like he was peering right through the screen.

Even if his crimes…

For one hundred and eighteen minutes, Linus could bite his tongue and avert his eyes and put up with it.

For Carol. It was for Carol. So it was okay.

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Agere Angstuary Day Thirty

Agere Angstuary Day Thirty

A caregiver experiences sleep paralysis; they can hear their regressor crying, but they can’t move.

Heads up: this ficlet contains sleep paralysis and auditory hallucinations.

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Mindy woke to the sound of Stephen crying. It was unusual for him to wake up regressed, but she assumed he’d had a bad dream; and anyway, neither of them had work in the morning, so it was fine.

She slowly opened her eyes, peering up at the ceiling, and began to get up.

Except she couldn’t.

Mindy blinked, attempting to raise her arm, to kick her leg, to call out to Stephen. Nothing moved; nothing worked. It was like she’d been tied to the bed.

Stephen was crying more loudly now. Calling out for her. “Mindy! Mindy, please!”

Mindy’s breathing sped up. What if it wasn’t just a bad dream? What if something was wrong, what if he’d hurt himself somehow? She focused all her energy into lifting her hand, but it didn’t so much as twitch.

Come on, come on!

Stephen needed her and she couldn’t move, she could only stare at the ceiling, and now his voice was raised, now he was screaming for her, and still she was stuck, she was helpless, she couldn’t catch her breath, she couldn’t do anything-

Mindy flung herself onto the carpeted floor, gasping desperately for air. She scrambled to her feet and ran across the hall, flinging open Stephen’s door.

He lay in his bed, asleep.

Mindy put her hand to her heart, felt it racing. Tears stung her eyes.

He’s okay. He’s okay.

Slowly, quietly, Mindy crossed the room and crawled into Stephen’s bed. She wrapped her arm around him, feeling the warmth of his body. He was real and he was okay and everything was fine, even if she was shaking with quiet sobs.

Stephen twitched slightly. “Mindy?” he mumbled, still mostly asleep. “Why’re you here?”

“I… had a bad dream.”

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Nine

A regressor has a serious allergic reaction while they’re alone.

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Felicity was alone when it happened; alone and very, very regressed.

She’d bought herself a treat to celebrate the weekend. Just some ice cream, the same as she’d bought a hundred times before. Chocolate and peanut butter.

Settled on the couch in front of the TV, she’d happily scooped bite after bite into her mouth. Sweet and delicious, just like always.

Felicity barely noticed when the itching started. Her eyes stayed fixed on the cartoon as she scratched at her arms.

But then came the wheezing. Even regressed, Felicity realized her breathing wasn’t right. She coughed, trying to clear her throat, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Now she was getting scared. Felicity tried to suck in air, but less and less was making it to her lungs. She burst into tears, and her uneven sobbing made it even worse.

Help. Call Mr. T. Yes.

With shaking hands, Felicity pulled out her cell phone.

“Heya,” Titus said when he answered. “What’s up?”

Felicity tried to speak, but the words were stuck in her swollen throat. She wheezed loudly and whined in fear.

“Felicity?” She could hear the worry in Titus’s voice. “Are you okay? This isn’t a game, baby, tell me you’re okay.”

She instinctively shook her head, gasping even harder.

“Felicity, I’m serious, okay? This is your last chance, tell me you’re okay or I’m going to call an ambulance.”

Yes, please, hurry. Her head was starting to spin - or maybe it was the room.

“I’ve got to hang up, okay? I’m calling them now.”

That was the last thing Felicity heard before she fell unconscious.

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Eight

A caregiver is being abused by their regressor but still feels responsible for them.

Heads up: this ficlet contains an unhealthy regressor/caregiver relationship and physical violence.

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“I’m sorry.”

It was always the same, afterwards. The wide eyes, the tears, the endless apologies. Evan was always, always sorry.

And Daniel told himself that was good enough. That canceled out the possessions broken, the walls kicked, the cruel words spat, the punches thrown.

“I’m sorry.”

He was, of course he was. It wasn’t his fault, how his brain changed, how the anger became too much to hold back. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t control himself. And he was sorry, so it was okay.

“I’m sorry.”

So the bruises didn’t matter. The aches didn’t count. The cuts were temporary.

“I know,” Daniel said softly, holding Evan close. He squeezed him gently, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm. “I’m fine, buddy. Just fine.”

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Seven

A regressor re-enacts their abuse with toys, much to their caregiver’s horror.

Heads up: this ficlet contains mentions of child abuse, including physical abuse and mentions of blood.

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“Lookit!” Lucy said excitedly, pointing to the computer screen. “There’s the bedroom, an’ the bathroom, an’ the playroom-”

Ryan studied the screen as Lucy happily babbled about her house in The Sims. He didn’t really understand the game, but he was glad Lucy enjoyed it so much.

“That’s great, Lu-Lu!” He pointed to a set of stairs. “Where do these go?”

“To the Bad Room!”

Ryan blinked. “The what?”

Lucy rolled her eye. “The Bad Room,” she said again. “Wanna see?”

She didn’t wait for a response, just clicked. The cheerful house layout disappeared, replaced by a basement broken into two rooms. One held the washer and dryer and water heater. The other…

“See, this is where the girl sleeps when she’s been bad,” Lucy said cheerfully, pointing to the sleeping bag. “An’ here’s where Grampa keeps the bandaids in case her punishment was really messy. Sometimes there’s lotsa red if she was really bad.”

Ryan couldn’t speak, staring in horror at the small concrete room. There was a Sim trapped in the room, a tiny girl who looked just like…

Lucy turned to him, her sparkly eyepatch glittering in the light from the screen. “Do you like it?”

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Six

A caregiver goes out to get something and comes home to find their regressor gone.

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“Kit!” Melody called as she unlocked the door. “Come help me with the groceries!”

Silence.

Melody rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ki-it, I bought ice cream~”

Still nothing.

Melody shrugged and started bringing the groceries inside. Maybe she’s napping.

When everything had been put away, she went to the bedroom and peeked inside. The bed was neatly made and empty.

Okay… maybe she’s somewhere else?

Not the bathroom. Not the living room. Not the spare bedroom.

She has to be somewhere.

Not the yard. Not the dining room. Not the closet.

She has to be.

Not under the bed. Not behind the couch. Not in the crawlspace.

By this point, Melody was becoming frantic. She shouted Kit’s name over and over, called her cell phone repeatedly, checked and double checked every possible and impossible hiding space.

No response. No clues. No Kit.

Finally Melody collapsed on the couch, her shoulders shaking and tears spilling down her face.

Nothing had been broken, and all the doors had been locked. Kit had left. But where? And why? Was she coming back? Was she…

Melody didn’t know. And that scared her more than she could say.

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Five

A regressor wakes up regressed and alone in a strange place, with no memories of the night before.

Heads up: this ficlet contains an implied panic attack.

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Juan was cold.

That’s what woke him up; he could ignore the stiffness of his neck and whatever was poking his side, but the cold was unacceptable. He slowly sat up, trying and failing to kick the clouds of regression out of his head. Mmmkay, small day…

When Juan opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his bedroom. He wasn’t in his game room. He wasn’t even in his house.

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

The wallpaper of the room was faded and torn in places. There were holes in some of the walls. The wooden floor he was lying on was dusty and covered in chips and chunks of plaster; that’s what had been poking him. The nearest window was broken, and shards of glass scattered across the floor.

Juan’s breathing became shallow as he took in his surroundings. Had he… broken in? There was nobody else here; he probably wasn’t supposed to be here either! Juan scrambled unsteadily to his feet and spun around, looking desperately for an exit.

Where’s a door, need t’ go, bad idea, bad idea…

How had he even gotten here? Juan froze in place, desperately trying to call up memories from the night before. He’d finished work, he’d been driving home, and then…

Nothing. Not a clue.

This couldn’t be real. Things like this just didn’t happen, Juan didn’t do things like this, he didn’t cause trouble, he didn’t get lost, he didn’t-

He was spinning again, looking for any kind of hint, any explanation as to what had occurred.

This’s bad, is bad, so bad, very bad…

Finally Juan collapsed on the floor. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t function right now, he needed help, he needed some kind of answer-

But there was nothing.

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Four

A caregiver and their regressor are in a car accident, and the caregiver tries to hide their trauma for the regressor’s sake.

Heads up: this ficlet contains a car accident and someone hiding their fear.

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They had been singing when it happened; maybe Julie had been distracted. Maybe she hadn’t remembered to put her signal on. Or maybe it wasn’t her fault at all, maybe the other driver hadn’t been paying attention. In the moment, it didn’t matter.

There had been a loud crunch of metal. The airbags had burst out, and for a moment Julie didn’t have a drop of air in her lungs. She gasped and gulped and desperately tried to breathe. Her arms were pinned back, her chest stung, everything was sore…

She had never been in a car accident before. And almost immediately Julie started to tremble with shock.

“Juwie!”

Carlos. 

He was on the passenger side, out of sight thanks to the airbags. And he was sobbing.

Get to Carlos, help Carlos, that’s what you have to do.

Julie struggled away from the airbag and forced her door open. She stumbled onto the street, catching a glimpse of the other driver, already out of his car and on the phone, and ran to the passenger’s side. She half-dragged Carlos out of the car, holding his tear-streaked face and checking him for injuries.

Bruises forming, but no obvious cuts. Walking okay, moving his arms, nothing looks broken. Okay. Okay.

“It’s alright, baby.” Julie forced her voice to be strong and steady, even though she felt sick. “You’re okay, I know it was scary but it’s over now.”

Carlos nodded unsteadily, gulping back sobs. “Y-you ‘kay?”

Julie managed a smile. “I’m just fine, baby, just fine.”

She wasn’t. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t control her shaking hands. Her throat was dry and she felt lightheaded, and a part of her wondered if maybe she was going to pass out.

But Carlos didn’t need to know that.

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Three

A regressor has a fight with their caregiver.

Heads up: this ficlet contains an argument and mutual disrespect. (This one’s not very good; I have a hard time writing arguments apparently. 😂)

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It wasn’t the first time Hector said it; “I’m not a baby right now.”

It wasn’t the first time Sue said it; “You’ll always be my baby.”

But it was the first time Hector swatted her hand away when she tried to ruffle his hair. The first time he glared. The first time he said through gritted teeth, “Cut it out!”

Sue blinked. “What’s-”

“I told you, I’m not regressed!”

“I know, I heard you.”

“So quit acting like I’m a child!”

At this, Sue actually laughed. “Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

“Not now!” Hector snapped. “I’m thirty-eight, I own a house, I work full-time, I’m an adult!”

“You asked me to be your caregiver,” Sue said, her voice revealing her annoyance. “That’s what I’m doing!”

“And that’s great, when I’m regressed! Right now it’s just obnoxious!”

Sue frowned. “Well, why didn’t you just say that? Why did you just start out shouting?”

Hector threw his arms into the air in frustration. “Because it should be obvious! Do you treat other adults like this?! How dumb are you?”

Sue scoffed and grabbed her purse. “Are you sure you’re not regressed?” she muttered as she stormed out of the house. “Because right now you’re sure acting like a child.”

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-Two

A caregiver loses their regressor in a very busy place.

Heads up: this ficlet contains an implied panic attack.

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Fawn had wanted to see the parade. Terrance had never been a big fan of things like that, but for Sue, he could tolerate it.

“Lookit!” Fawn cried, pointing enthusiastically at the marching band.

“That’s amazing,” Terrance said, though his attention was more on the people surrounding him. Jeez, it was crowded. It seemed like everyone in the city had shown up.

“Wow!” Fawn squealed as a float shaped like a huge fish passed by. “Look, look!”

“I see it, sweetie,” Terrance said absently. Hey, is that Frank? No, can’t be. Looks like him, though, wonder if…

It took a minute for Terrance to notice; the world around him was so loud, the absence of one voice was easy to miss. But eventually it hit him, and when he turned, Fawn was nowhere to be seen.

“Fawn? Fawn!”

This had never happened before; what was he supposed to do? Should he look for her, or stay where she had last seen him? Would she even be able to find him again? And what if he started searching, but went the wrong way, getting further and further from her?

Under the panic, he was trying to reason with himself. Fawn was smart, she was capable, she would snap out of headspace and be fine-

But what if she isn’t?

Terrance was a nervous caregiver at the best of times, but the thought of Fawn regressed and lost and unable to find him made him frantic. His breathing quickened. His eyes desperately scanned the faces around him, this crowd of strangers who might be capable of anything, who might… He was shoving past them now, forcing his way through the masses, screaming Fawn’s name at the top of his lungs.

But so many other people were shouting, too. He could barely hear himself, so how could she possibly…

For a minute, Terrance truly thought he was having a heart attack; he could feel his chest buzzing. Then he realized it was his phone in his t-shirt pocket.

Phone! Of course!

“Fawn, where are you?!”

She was crying on the other end, and shouting (though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or just to make sure she was heard). “Where did you go?! You left!”

“I was looking for you! What happened? Are you okay?”

“There were necklaces! I just wanted to get one, I thought you saw!”

Terrance started to snap - You should have asked me, you shouldn’t run off without me, do you have any idea how scared I was - but he caught himself. “Where are you now? Are you back where we were?”

Fawn sniffled. “I… think so? It’s hard to tell… There’s a stop sign.”

Terrance winced. They hadn’t been near any kind of street signs before. “That’s… that’s good, that gives me something to look for.”

“I’m sorry.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear her.

“I’m sorry, too. Just stay on the phone, and stay by the sign, okay? I’m coming.”

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty-One

A regressor’s caregiver becomes seriously ill.

Heads up: this ficlet contains someone experiencing an extreme fever.

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“Sorry, sweet pea, I’m not feeling very good.”

Martin had nodded and tried to shake off his regression. He had spent the day watching TV, periodically peeking in on Denise and offering her water and soup and ibuprofen, before finally dozing off on the couch.

When Martin woke up, he was deeply regressed and feeling lonely. It was dark outside, but maybe Denise was awake? There was no harm in checking, right?

At first, it seemed like Denise was talking on the phone. She was mumbling softly in the darkness, and occasionally waving one of her hands.

“Auntie?” Martin whispered.

“-not the snow,” Denise muttered. “It won’t fix it, stop it.”

Martin frowned and crept closer, almost tripping over the blanket that had been thrown onto the floor. “Auntie?”

A bit of light fell through the cracked door and illuminated Denise’s face. She was gleaming with sweat, and her eyes were unfocused. “-without them, they shouldn’t, they-”

Martin reached out, but almost immediately pulled back. Denise’s skin was burning to touch, and she flinched away from him. “Martin,” she mumbled, “can’t… I’m in the snow, Martin…”

He grabbed the phone from the bedside table, his fingers shaking so hard he could barely punch the right numbers. Denise kept muttering nonsense as he clutched the phone to his ear. It felt like an eternity before someone answered. “911, what is your-”

Martin started chanting the address like a prayer, all the while staring at Denise’s flushed face. “Please hurry, please, 1468 Dartmouth Street, please, she’s burning up, hurry, please-”

The man on the other end of the phone was saying something, but Martin couldn’t focus on his words. He couldn’t focus on anything. He could only repeat himself and wait for sirens.

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Agere Angstuary Day Twenty

A regressor’s only playmate is a bully.

Heads up: this ficlet contains emotional bullying and mentions of a lost/sickly childhood.

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Nancy had always been shy about her regression. Only one person knew about it; the friend who had introduced her to regression in the first place.

Brianna.

Brianna was sweet and kind and thoughtful, always careful not to offend or upset, always considerate of others - when she wasn’t regressed.

When she was regressed, it was a different story. Brianna snatched and shoved and called Nancy names. She made demands, and burst into tears if she didn’t get her way. She insisted that every game meet with her approval, every TV show be her choice, every toy be available to her.

It made regressing around her hard; because Nancy had to always remember to be careful, to not take it personally, to be the bigger person. Sometimes she couldn’t regress at all; and that upset little Brianna too. “I wanted to play with you! It’s not fair! You’re doing this on purpose!”

Brianna never seemed to remember after the fact; she always said she’d had fun, and thanked Nancy for having her over, and asked when they could do it again. And Nancy forced a smile and named a time.

She regressed on her own, sometimes, but it was always a lonely experience. A reminder of childhood, spent mostly in hospitals and sterile rooms, isolated for her own good.

Brianna shoved, but she didn’t hit. She could be whiny, could be selfish… but she was there.

So it was fine. Everything was fine.

[eflen-n-reegee]

Agere Angstuary Day Nineteen

A caregiver leaves and doesn’t come back.

Heads up: this ficlet contains feelings of abandonment, fear, paranoia, and mentions of car accidents and kidnappings.

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It was only supposed to be a quick grocery run. Goldfish crackers and pasta for dinner; half an hour, tops.

But the sun had set, dinner time had come and gone, and Charlie was still waiting for Violet to come back.

He’d tried to call her, but her cell phone was on the counter. Okay, that was nothing new, she forgot her phone all the time.

But on the other hand, if she didn’t want to be tracked…

That was silly. Why would Violet actually leave?

Maybe she got tired of taking care of you…

For an hour or so, Charlie had been able to ignore the thoughts. He’d played on his Switch and made himself a snack and tried not to worry. And it had worked, for that first hour.

But now it was hour two, and he couldn’t focus on anything but the thoughts.

Maybe she had an accident…

Maybe she was kidnapped…

Maybe she hates you and decided to leave…

Every passing second in the darkness brought new scenarios, but the outcome was always the same: Charlie, here, alone.

The theme from “Bluey” filled the air and Charlie glanced at his cell. He didn’t know the number. He wasn’t supposed to answer if he didn’t know the number - but what if it was a ransom demand? What if Violet had been kidnapped?

“H’lo?”

The voice on the other end was bright and laughing. “Hi, Charlie! I’m sorry I’m so late, bud, my bike broke down and I don’t have my cell so I couldn’t call a tow truck. I had to walk it to the mechanic’s - got some pretty weird looks, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home! I should be there in, like, half an hour. You doing okay?”

No. He wasn’t. He was sitting on the floor, head full of awful ideas of what still might happen.

What if this is a trick so she can get even farther away…

What if this isn’t even the real Violet…

What if she tried to leave but chickened out, and now you’ll never know for sure if she wants to be here…

“ ‘M fine,” Charlie mumbled.

“That’s my guy. I’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

And just like that, she was gone.

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Agere Angstuary Day Eighteen

A caregiver lives far away and is struggling to take care of their regressor.

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Willow tapped her fingers against her leg, staring intently at the computer screen. It buzzed softly, calling out across the state, calling for…

When Tristan answered, he looked tired; but his eyes were glowing. “Willow!”

“Hello, precious,” Willow cooed. “How’s my sweet little guy?”

“I got your package!” Tristan said excitedly, disappearing off camera and reappearing with the stuffed llama Willow had sent him. “I named her ‘Carmel’!”

“Oh, that’s such a good name for her! Now tell me about you, okay?”

For twenty minutes, they went through the routine. They asked each other questions; they showed each other pictures; they told each other stories. But all the while, Tristan’s eyes were dimming.

Finally, Willow had to say it. “You seem pretty sleepy, bug. Do you need to get some rest?”

“No!” Tristan said, his protest broken up by a yawn. “I wanna talk to you.”

“And I want to talk to you, but… little guys need their sleep.”

Tristan pouted slightly. “I wish you were here.”

Willow shut her eyes to hide the hurt. “I wish I was there too, precious. Maybe someday.”

Tristan nodded slightly. “Okay,” he mumbled. “G’night.”

And just that quickly, the call was over; and Willow was left staring at a dark screen, reflecting her glassy eyes back at her.

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Agere Angstuary Day Seventeen

A regressor experiences verbal shutdown and their caregiver becomes angry.

Heads up: this ficlet contains swearing.

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Grace jumped when the timer went off, blinking up at Xavi from her place on the floor. Xavi pulled the pizza out of the oven and whistled as he cut it. “Ready for dinner, Gracie-bear?”

Grace nodded and hummed. She dropped her dinosaur and hurried to the table, grinning as she hopped into her seat.

Xavi set the plate down in front of her, and Grace frowned slightly. The slice was big. She wanted it cut. But when she opened her mouth to make the request, nothing happened.

Xavi motioned to the plate. “Go ahead, Grace. Don’t want it to get cold.”

Grace tried to ask for help, but once again, she found she couldn’t speak; and now she was starting to panic. She was always quieter while she was regressed, but it had never been like this.

“Grace, come on. You asked for pizza.”

She had, earlier, when there were words in her mouth. But now there was nothing…

Grace couldn’t help it. She burst into tears.

“Wh- Gracie, what’s wrong? Grace?”

Xavi was kneeling beside her, trying to meet her eyes, but Grace couldn’t handle it. She didn’t know what she needed. She didn’t know what would fix this.

“Grace, Grace, talk to me, okay? Use your words, honey, what’s wrong?”

But she couldn’t, that was the problem; and she whined loudly in frustration.

“Grace. You need to calm down and talk to me, okay? I can’t help if-”

Grace let out a wordless screech, and Xavi jumped back, clutching his ear.

“Damn it, Grace, what’s wrong with you?!”

Silence immediately fell over the kitchen, and they stared at each other in shock. Grace’s mouth hung open; Xavi turned pale. But neither made a sound. Not for a long, long moment.

[eflen-n-reegee]

Agere Angstuary Day Sixteen

A regressor experiences verbal shutdown at the worst possible time.

Heads up: this ficlet contains a fire.

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Val woke to heat on her skin and light behind her eyelids. Her lungs felt like they’d been stuffed with cotton.

“Ma’am, is anyone else inside the house?”

What?

Val struggled into a sitting position, and her mouth fell open.

Her house was burning.

Keiko.

She almost threw herself off the gurney, but the firefighter held her in place. “Ma’am, you can’t go back in there!”

 My daughter’s in there!

But the words wouldn’t come. Val couldn’t even scream, could only flail wildly.

“Is someone else inside?” the firefighter asked again.

Val jerked her head up and down, pointing desperately to Keiko’s window.

“Where are they? No, ma’am, you need to tell me-”

I’m trying!

But the words wouldn’t come, they wouldn’t, and every second that passed was-

“I’ve got a kid!”

This time, the firefighter wasn’t fast enough to hold Val. She hit the grass and scrambled across the lawn, snatching Keiko from the stranger’s grip.

“Mommy,” the little girl sobbed, her voice rough with smoke.

I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve got you.

Val still couldn’t say it; the best she could do was hold on tighter.