The Devil's Gift/The Bloody Handed

2

With luck, we found a few dry twigs and small logs to keep a fire company, along with a bucket full of water we got from the lake. We brought it inside and dug a hole where dirt was exposed in the floor boards. With that, we stacked the logs and sticks together to create a small tent like structure. Below the old we stuck a few pine needles to boost it but not too much. I was hungry as well but there wasn't much here.

"Is there anything to eat here?" I hold my stomach. I didn't eat at Barb's- well, refused. I was too sick to my stomach.

"Yeah, there's probably a little something in these rusty cupboards." He stands up and I follow behind. He walks into the kitchen. Empty counters, dusty cabinets, chipped paint, outdated microwave. He swings open a cupboard and grabs out a can. He tilts it and hands it to me extending out his arm while his head was still inside of the cupboard. I take it and look at the can. Ravioli? Really?

"So, you enjoying your stay at Motel 420?" He asks cockily.

"If you consider cold Ravioli a gourmet, then great." I hold up the can. "Is there even power in here?" Probably not.

He shakes his head. "Nope! Just eat it cold you should be fine."

I walk back to the fire and plop down, Eddie sitting across the room from me.

"You have a match or anything?" I suggest.

He closes the cabinet and looks at me. "This is a stoner's hideout. What do you expect?" He grins and throws down a match box across the room. Smart remarks, smart remarks. I grab the box and hit the match against the gradient. Sparks fly around the box. I tilt it at different angles and eventually I hit the sweet spot. A singular and long flame erodes from the small stick. I look at it in between my finger tips and throw it into the pit. Just like that, our fire is now alive.

"Wow, what a little arsonist you are! I mean, it all makes sense." He gestures to my hair. "The flaming locks, personality, whatever fits the suit- Mind if I call you Sparky?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Typical red head stereotypes. That is a dog's name, is it not?" He puts a finger on his chin and leans back.

"Hey, take the compliment or leave it." He leans back against the wall and crosses his legs. I roll my eyes and get up. I tear the tarp off of the pile of junk it was on and place it on the ground. I reach into my bag and pull out my handy pocket knife I always carried with me, cutting the tarp down the middle to make it even. Dad gave me it when I was a little girl. He said he had made it himself through this guy he knew who owned his own business.

I pick up one side of the tarp and in between the layers to attempt to make a kind of sleeping bag, and then do it to the other side. The woods had a tendency to get cold and this was probably the best way to do it. The tarp was thick enough to provide enough insulation for the night.

"Wow, Sparky. You're quite the smart cookie huh?"

"I can be. My dad taught me a lot growing up. Might as well utilize it now." The fire crackles and spits sparks up. I look at Eddie who is intently staring into the flames, his face illuminated. I grab the can of Ravioli and stab my pocket knife into it, tugging at the metal around the circular edge.

"Yeah. I wish I had that kind of guidance." I stop and look up while he looks at the fire. When his gaze returns back to me I go back to my business cutting the can and he continues. "My dad and mom are just.. nonexistent. My uncle is a Houdini drunk. Comes and goes in waves. I guess you can't really meet in the middle with that, huh? But look at you, you really turned out. I'm happy for you." I could sense a genuine but jealous tone in his voice a little.

"I'm sorry." I say quite monotone."but look at you. You've done a lot for yourself as well." I wasn't sure how to express sorrow to a boy I barely knew, but boy was I trying. This was just far too awkward. I wasn't very sentimental, and I could tell Eddie was the type of guy to be super empathizing towards total strangers.