The Ruins Of Tomorrow

10. Guilty

Dean wasn't kidding. The water was warm.

It smoothed my body, easing my sore muscles and lower back. My hair was in a terrible state with hard tangles, so I had to trim some of it and then use my fingers to gently comb through the remaining strands until they finally loosened. I had scrubbed off the dirt and dry blood on my skin until it reddened. The purple bruise on my arm looked cleaner, as I had forgotten all about it. Gradually, the cut was closing in, and while it left a red mark, it didn't hurt as much anymore.

I had set a timer in my head, counting the tiles in the shower stall twice so I wouldn't exceed more than five minutes. I wanted Thomas to enjoy a warm bath as well. I couldn't be greedy. After counting the last three tiles, I turned off the water and stepped out into the foggy atmosphere.

The mirror was coated in vapor; I wiped a hand across the glass and caught the dark circles and bruises on me. I lifted my arms to scan the scars on my wrists and sighed. I quickly dried myself and got dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jeans. They were some of the extra clothes that were on the bed, just as Dean said. Although they were a size too big, they were still comfortable to wear.

After I finished using the bathroom, I walked over to the kitchen and grabbed my jacket from the chair. I paused when I heard the gates open from outside and took a glance out the window. A group of folks were sweeping out the dead bodies blocking the entrance of the gates. The guards covered above the walls and aimed their bows at the roamers passing by, as I heard thuds hit the ground.

When I turned around, I noticed Thomas was still sleeping soundly on the left side of the bed. He had his book next to him as he was reading all night long until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He was flipping through the pages every minute, as I sometimes heard him mutter to himself. There was a grin on my face as his smile was all I could remember before falling asleep.

The books he had put on the shelves were a little above his grade level. He didn't mind reading them, as he also had a variety of genres. Some seemed rather complex, as the words in the books were tiny and I had to squint my eyes to read a sentence. I had asked him one time if he found it boring to read something he would have a hard time understanding. "Sometimes," he groaned and sat up. "But it usually gets better."

He was nine, but he already knew more than children his age. He would talk to me about school sometimes and never wanted to miss a day. Thomas enjoyed talking about the things he used to do, and most of it was reading before and after school. He stayed late because he had tutoring lessons and volunteered to help students. Anytime he would talk about the past, he would smile brightly.

But anytime I would think about the things from before, I let them crush me.

I let Thomas sleep and locked the front door behind me, shoving the gold key in my back pocket. I heard shuffling next to me as I spun around to see the old elderly couple locking their door as well. The man's creased eyes appeared tired, but kind. He met my gaze and smiled as he gently waved at me.

I lifted my hand and waved back. He clutched a long cane in one hand while holding his wife's palm. "Good morning, young lady," he spoke first as his wife turned to meet my eyes. "I've heard about a few new faces in Terrenceville. I reckon you're one of them?"

"Yes," I said, stepping forward. "It looks like we're neighbors now."

His wife smiled, slowly moving her hand to reach her purse. "Oh! You're the one with a brother, right?"

I nodded. "His name is Thomas."

She pressed her hands together and lifted her chin. "Oh! He was the young man we watched over for a bit! He told us his sister Scarlet got into a bit of trouble, and Dean had told us to watch over him for a while. Separation anxiety is a serious thing, and we didn't want the young man to stress himself out because his sister wasn't there with him!"