𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

13. Don't Be Afraid to Double Up.

T H I R T E E N
Don't Be Afraid to Double Up.

Joel and Henry plan, standing next to floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook this hellhole. Sam, Ellie and I are sitting at an obnoxiously long table, I've decided to sit at the end, leaning back I chuck my boots on the table, looking at Sam and Ellie having fun, communicating through gestures and writing.

Am I choosing to sit with the children as a twenty-year-old? No, I'm babysitting.

The world already is so isolating, people are few and far between, and most of those people will stab you in the back at the first opportunity. Having one of your major senses stripped away makes the situation exponentially harder. It's all Sam has ever known, and he's so young so I doubt he's even thought long and hard about it; but, I know Henry has, he's thought about what it means, every issue it's going to pose. No one's out here curing deafness, and the number of people who know sign language has dwindled, you can imagine why. Most people shoot first and ask questions later, but even if someone asks questions first they may not have the patience to communicate through writing. People are shitty. More so now than ever.

I don't know how old Henry is but he seems to be a decent chunk older than Sam, that means if things go well he'll die before Henry which means Sam will be left to figure it out.

The little boy stares at my face, looking incredulous, I smile at him, I've not been as unflinchingly friendly to him, but he doesn't seem to be scared of me. He points to his nose and them to mine, asking what happened without the need for words. Taking my feet off the table I lean to get the paper, Ellie slides it to me and I begin writing.

'Fel over and brock it'

I push it over to him, he reads it with a nod, beginning to write something back to me.

"You can't spell for shit," Ellie smirks at me, I roll my eyes. The little bitch.

"Unlike you, I didn't go to school, no one sat down and taught me to spell. I didn't know how to read until I was about thirteen." I tell her.

"At least you have nice handwriting," she tries to make up for the dig.

Sam slides the paper back over, I assume even his spelling is better than mine. The letters just don't make sense half the time, so I have to do everything phonetically.

'Did it hurt?'

I pick the pen up, taking a second to think before writing, mainly about how to spell things so Little Miss Judgemental shuts up.

'Yes, but its beter now'

I slide it back over to him. It is better, the bruising is beginning to fade, so I don't look like I just lost a boxing match as much.

"Just for future reference, better has two t's." She clears her throat.

"I'm trying my best, I can read well and I think that matters more," I glare at her. Reading is where I learnt how to write, I just copied words down until I figured it out. Or mostly figured it out.

"You're not half bad, it's just funny," she grins.

"I've probably got a lot of brain damage, so I'm gonna blame it on that," I reference the countless concussions I have sustained.

"Okey dokey, live in denial all you want." She widens her eyes, obviously trying to wind me up. It's worked. But she doesn't have to know that.

Sam slides it back across to me.

'Were you scared?'

I give him a soft smile, he seems like a really nice kid, he doesn't deserve the shitty world he was born into. I know it's a dumb hope, but I hope he gets to live a happy life.