A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xvi
(By NeuroFabulous)
ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ/ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ⚠︎︎
Karen's eyes filled with a mix of
concern and determination as
she held onto Plankton. She knew
his meltdowns could be intense, but
this was uncharted territory. His
body was rigid with anger, his
antennas flailing as he tried to
free himself.
"Plankton, you need to calm down,"
she said firmly, her voice steady
despite the fear. "You're okay."
But Plankton's antennas only
twitched more erratically, his
body thrashing as he tried
to break free. "Let me go!" he
screamed, his voice hoarse as
Karen's grip tightens.
Karen only holds on tighter,
her love and concern a silent
plea as she tries to soothe her
husband's erratic movements.
"Plankton," she repeats, her voice
calm but firm as he flails. "Please
ju—"
Her words are lost in his
growling as he tries to push
her away. But Karen is
determined, her arms
restraining him.
"Plankton, love, Chip's
gone, and I need you to
li—"
But Karen's words were lost
as Plankton's struggle grew
more intense. His antennas
whipped back and forth, a visual
manifestation of the tempest
inside him. Despite her
soothing tone, his body thrashed
wildly in her embrace.
Karen felt her own heart race,
worry etched deep in her
features as she held on.
This was not the gentle, loving
Plankton she knew, but a
version of him overtaken by
his condition—his autism
turning the man she loved
into a creature of chaos.
Plankton fought
against her, his body
contorting as he tried to
escape her arms. His eye
was wild.
Karen's heart pounded in
her chest, her mind racing
with fear and love. She
knew this was the autism
speaking, not the man she
knew. She tightened her
grip as he began to throw
his weight around.
Plankton's antennas slapped
against her, his movements
unpredictable. "Chip's gone,"
she said calmly, her eyes
locked onto Plankton's, trying
to reach the person beneath
the rage. "You're safe and so—"
But Plankton's struggle
intensified, his antennas a
whirlwind of agitation. He threw
his head back, hitting Karen's
chest with a thud that
reverberated through the
tiny room. Karen winced,
her grip never wavering.
"Plankton," she said, her voice
even, "I'm here for you. Chip's
not in here anymo-"
Her words were cut off as Plankton's
body spasmed, his antennas
lashing out and hitting her
face. but she didn't release her hold.
"I know it's hard," she murmured,
"but I need you to be still. Hold still..."
Plankton's eye was wild with
fear, his antennas a blur as
his body thrashed. "Let go!"
he roared, his voice cracking
with emotion.
That's when Karen realizes
Plankton's no longer fueled by
anger, his movements no longer
intentional but rather was involuntary
jerks and twitches, as she saw in
his eye the fear and panic. She
now realized he knew Chip's gone
and that since then, he's only been
fighting out of terror. Karen realizes
in horror that she only made it
worse. Her heart clenched tightly in
her chest as she recognized
the traumatizing impact her
restraint might have had on
his overwhelmed autistic mind.
She then immediately loosens
her grip.
"Plankton," she whispers, her voice
shaking with her own fear and
concern, "I'm sorry, I'm so so—"
But her apology is lost
as Plankton's antennas quiver,
his body convulsing in
fear. The realization hits her
like a ton of bricks—she's not
his protector right now, she's his
tormentor. Karen's heart breaks
as she watches the man she loves
recoil from her own touch. She
quickly releases him, stepping back
to give him space.
Plankton's antennas slap
against his body as he stumbles
backward, his legs giving out.
He hits the floor, his antennas
spasming as he curls into a ball,
his whole body shaking with
sobs.
Karen's eyes fill with
tears as she watches him, her
heart breaking into a million
pieces. She had only wanted to
help, to be there for him, but
instead, she had become his enemy.
The fear in his eye was a
knife to her soul. She knew
the trauma her restraint had
caused him, and she wished she
could take it all back.
"Plankton," she says, her voice
barely above a whisper, "I'm
so sorry." She holds out a tentative
hand, hoping he'll understand
that she's not a threat.
But Plankton's antennas
don't still, they pulse with fear
as he scrambles away from her,
his eye wide with terror. "No,"
he whispers, his voice hoarse.
"Don't.."
The word hangs in the air, a
testament to the chasm that's
suddenly opened between them.
Karen's hand falls to her side,
her heart racing. "Plankton,
I won't touch you," she says,
her voice shaking. "I'm just
going to give you some space."
Plankton's antennas slowly
unfurled from their defensive
cringe, his body uncurling from
the fetal position. His chest
heaved with heavy breaths,
his eye darting around the
room. The chaos from the
meltdown had subsided into
stillness, but the fear remained.
Karen's eyes were red
and puffy, her own pain mirroring
his. She took a tentative
step towards him, her hand
outstretched. "It's okay," she
whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm
not going to touch you, I just
want to make sure you're okay."
Plankton's antennas quivered,
his eye darting to her hand
and then back to her screen.
He knew her, knew she loved
him, but fear had taken hold,
twisting his reality into
something unrecognizable.
With each step she took,
his heart hammered in his chest,
his body taut with tension.
He scooted away, his breaths
coming in shallow gasps.
Karen's eyes searched
his, a silent plea for
understanding. "Plankton," she
whispered, her voice barely
audible over the echo of his
sobs, "please, let me help."
Karen's hand hovered in
the space between them,
desperate to offer comfort but
respecting the invisible
boundaries Plankton had drawn.
Tears of regret were shed. She
wanted to take back her
fear-induced restraint, to
erase the terror from his
face. But she knew it wasn't
that simple. So she picked up
the books and organized them
the way Plankton had them, then
cleaning up the remnants of the
mess he made.
Plankton watched her from
his spot on the floor, his
antennas still quivering with
fear. He knew she was his
safety, but the trauma was
fresh, the trust fractured. Each
movement she made was a
potential threat to his
sensitive state. His breaths
came in shallow gasps, his
body still poised to flee.
Karen worked quickly
and quietly, her movements
calculated to cause the
least amount of disturbance.
The room slowly regained
its order, the books back
in their proper place, the
broken vase cleared away.
With each item she picked
up, she felt a piece of
their relationship mend.
Finally, she turned to
Plankton, who remained
huddled on the floor.
Her heart ached at the sight
of him—his body still tense,
his antennas drooping with
exhaustion. "Can I help you
up?" she asked gently, her hand
extended tentatively.
Plankton's antennas twitched
slightly, but he didn't move.
The fear had not fully
abated, but the chaos had
dulled to a murmur. He knew
his wife was there, a beacon
of safety in a world that
was still spinning out of control.
Karen knelt beside him, her
hands hovering just above
his shaking body. "You're okay,"
she whispered. "You're safe, and
I'm sorry," Karen said,
her voice thick with emotion.
"I didn't mean to scare
yo-"
But Plankton's response was
unexpected. A sudden
gagging sound erupted from
his throat, his antennas
twitching erratically.
Karen's eyes widened as
she saw his face contort in
fear and anxiety. "Plankton?"
she asked, her voice laced
with concern. "What's wrong?"
Plankton's antennas shot
straight up, his body convulsing
as he tried to swallow down
the panic that was rising in his
throat. He was gagging, his eye
squeezed shut as if to block
out the world around him.
Karen's heart skipped a beat
as she realized the severity
of his distress. "Plankton," she
said, her voice urgent. "Look
at me."
Plankton's antennas
quivered as he opened his eye,
his gaze locking onto Karen's.
Her eyes searched his, looking
for any sign of understanding,
any glimmer of the man
she knew and loved beneath
the fear. The gagging subsided,
his body still trembling with
adrenaline.
"I know you're scared," Karen
continued, her voice soothing
and gentle. "And it's my fault.
But I'm here to help."
Slowly, Plankton's
antennas lowered, his body
beginning to relax. He
swallowed hard, his gaze
never leaving hers. Karen
moved closer, her hand
still outstretched. "Can I?"
With a nod, Plankton
allowed her to touch him,
his antennas still quivering
with residual fear. Karen
lifted him up gently, her
touch feather-light as she
guided him to the bed. He
collapsed onto the mattress,
his body finally giving in
to the exhaustion that had
been building all night.
The room was eerily
silent. Karen sat beside
Plankton, her hand on his
shoulder, her eyes never
leaving his. "I'm so sorry,"
she whispered again, her
throat tight with emotion. "I
should have known better. I just
wanted us all to be safe.."
Plankton took her hand, putting
it on himself in the way he felt
like was comfortable. "I'm sorry
Karen, but I love you so much. I
understand. Thank you, it's the
thought that counts.."