The Ruins Of Tomorrow

09. Worst Situations

I don't think there are many good people left in this world.

It reminded me of how things were long ago. There was the good and then the bad. Bland and sweet. Then there was bitterness. Those who couldn't move away from the hatred.

Now there are only survivors and those who want nothing but complete control.

Dean made me curious. He didn't ask the most important things that others would consider asking, especially if you were letting a stranger into your house. There was no, where did you come from? Is it just you and your brother traveling together? What are you doing far up North?

He only listened, like a normal human being who didn't seem ruined.

Dean opened the door to a room. It wasn't huge or small; it looked comfortable. The kitchen was cute and there was one other door that led to a bathroom. It was a one-room apartment. The kitchen was connected to the living room, and white desks and shelves furnished the space. All of it was left empty except for a vase that sat in the middle of the dining table. It was also small, but big enough to fit a few other people.

I saw Thomas's back facing me as he sat on the bed, staring out the window until he heard us. He got up quickly and ran towards me with relief and a big smile plastered over him. "Scarlet," he said. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

Dean rubbed the back of his head and gestured his thumb to the bed. I saw my bags next to a nightstand and a set of clean clothes folded neatly sitting on the sheets. "There are spare blankets in the drawers," he said. "Everything works, but try not to take long showers. The water will get cold. Ten minutes at the most. Oh, and make sure to always lock your door."

He placed a gold key in my palm and turned to the door as he stepped on the threshold, when I lifted my hand to stop him. I pulled back and rubbed the back of my neck. "Thank you again. Seriously," I said.

Dean gave me a nod, smiling softly. "No problem, kid."

He turned left as he walked out of our room. His footsteps were faint by the time he reached the end of the hallway, as he vanished down the stairs. I took in the view again, counting the doors on the left and right side of the hall and the small paintings hanging on the beige walls. The apartment was certainly bright and warm. The people in Terrenceville took care of this place and wanted to make it livable just as before.

There was an elderly couple a door down from us trying to prop open their door as the husband held his wife's arm with a cane in his other hand. I was ready to wave at them, but they must not have noticed me as they entered their apartment and closed it softly.

I went back inside as Thomas dropped his notebook on the dining table and stood up from his chair. "Have you seen out the window yet?" he smiled. "The view looks pretty cool."

I shook my head and walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Light flickered over his brown eyes as he lifted his chin. His smile wavered for a split second, almost like he knew something. "What's the matter?"

"Thomas," I said, sucking in a deep breath. "Oak Ridge is—"

"Dead," he finished my thought.

Thomas walked up to the window, placing his palm on the glass panes. "You make things obvious sometimes," he told me. "Like very obvious."

I jerked my head back, and leaned against the wall next to him. "I'm sure there would have been nothing for us," I said. "I tried so hard to find it, but I think we found something better here."

Thomas moved his head to look at me. "Do you promise that?" he asked. "Do you think we can stop running now?"

There was a thought in the back of my head that made me feel hesitant. His eyes glistened in the evening sky as light reflected through the window. The words forming in my tongue were not slipping out, like it was hard to push them out without it hurting. Why couldn't I promise that?