The Apocalypse

10

They entered Johnny's home, where Sasha, one of the many women Johnny had enjoyed the company of, was seated next to him at the head of the table. Sasha was Johnny's favorite, a woman whose pleasant demeanor belied the fierce strength she possessed. Crossing paths with Sasha meant risking the potential devastation of having one's heart ripped out by her hands.
"Hi, baby," Sasha greeted Johnny with a warm kiss on the cheek, her voice laced with a thick British accent. Her attention then turned to the small figure beside Maurits, her eyes curious and welcoming.
"My name is Sasha, but you can call me Sash!" she introduced herself to Maeve, radiating confidence. Sasha possessed an air of self-assuredness that Maeve lacked, and the stark contrast between the two was evident.
Maeve looked up at Sasha with wide, round eyes, feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation.
"M-m" Her voice faltered as she attempted to speak her own name, her nerves causing her jaw to tremble and tears welling up in her eyes.
"Go on, darling," Maurits gently encouraged, sensing Maeve's struggle. Sasha's smile remained unwavering, her patience apparent as she waited for Maeve to find her voice.
"M-m-Maeve," she managed to stutter out, her relief palpable as she finally uttered her name. A small sigh of accomplishment escaped her lips, a mix of vulnerability and triumph mingling within her.
Sasha's eyes lit up, her clapping hands expressing genuine delight. "Oh, what a lovely name!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious.
Johnny sat down with a bright smile on his face, and Maurits and Maeve followed suit, taking their seats. As they settled, two plates were placed in front of each of them. Maeve's eyes immediately went to her plate, and her heart sank as she noticed the second allergy the girl seated had. She swallowed hard, not daring to utter a word, afraid of appearing rude or causing any discomfort.
Sensing her distress immediately, Maurits raised an eyebrow and directed his question to Maeve, "Are you allergic to anything else?" Her eyes darted to him, and then nervously glanced at the others at the table who were now looking at her expectantly. Memories of Misses Chumson's strict insistence on her eating everything, even when she was allergic and the subsequent near-suffocations that had occurred twice before she finally received an epipen, flooded her mind.
Maurits, observing the turmoil in her expression, issued a warning in a firm tone, "Do not lie." He could see her mind racing, searching for the right words to convey her condition without causing a scene.
She slowly nodded.
"To what?"
"Peanuts." She whispered almost not audible. Sasha and Johnny didn't hear.
He gave her a nod before Maurits's gaze then shifted to Johnny, and without hesitation, he calmly informed him, "She can't eat this." His statement was concise but carried the weight of concern for Maeve's well-being.
"Alright, we have pizza!" Sasha exclaimed, swiftly rising to her feet with excitement evident in her voice. Sensing Maeve's unease, she quickly reassured her, "It's okay. Anyone can be allergic to anything, so don't worry!"
Sasha looked directly at Maeve, her eyes filled with genuine concern, and asked, "Do you like pizza?" Maeve nodded slowly, her trust growing as Sasha's words resonated with her.
"Would you like to come and have a look at the different pizza options?" Sasha's gaze then shifted from Maeve to Maurits, seeking his approval and silently asking for permission. Maurits, noticing the unspoken question in her eyes, raised an eyebrow and slightly nodded, giving his consent. He saw the potential for her to become a trusted friend to Maeve. If Sasha continued to demonstrate this level of understanding, he was more than willing to support their growing connection. But as long he was the one deciding if Maeve could hang around Sasha.
Maurits observed the interaction, his eyebrows raised in approval, as Sasha included him in the decision-making process.
The offer to participate in choosing her own pizza was a small gesture, but it held great significance for Maeve. She tentatively nodded. Just as she was about to leave, Maurits gently grabbed her wrist, causing her to turn and meet his gaze. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. With a reassuring squeeze, he released her, silently conveying that he was there for her.
Sasha, presented the three pizza options. Maeve's throat tightened as she struggled to vocalize the name of the pizza she desired. Fearing she was taking too long, she hesitated and then decided to simply point at her preferred choice.
Noticing Maeve's discomfort, Sasha smiled warmly and encouraged her, "Can you say the name?" Maeve's gaze fell to the ground, avoiding eye contact. The weight of her struggle was palpable in the room.
Sasha's empathy shone through as she reassured Maeve, "It's alright. It's margherita. I'll put it in the oven for you. You can go back to your seat." Her soft smile provided a sense of comfort, allowing Maeve to feel accepted despite her difficulty in speaking up.
Maeve slowly made her way back to the dining area, settling beside Maurits. He instinctively reached out and clasped her hand.
When the pizza had finished cooking and everyone had settled comfortably into their seats, they eagerly began to devour their delicious meal. Amid the satisfying crunch and savory flavors, Sasha suggested, "Shall we each share a bit about ourselves so that Maeve can get to know us better?" She looked over to Johnny, who gave an affirming nod in response.
Clearing her throat, Sasha began her story. "Well, I'm Sasha. I used to live in Great Britain before I came to the USA. It was only a few months after my arrival that the apocalypse struck, leaving me without any friends or family to rely on. I had to learn how to survive on my own." Pausing for a moment, she took a deep breath, contemplating the memories of the hardships she had faced. "I managed to make it for about two months, enduring unimaginable challenges, until I met Maurits. He took me to the town where we now live, and I've been here ever since." A smile graced her face, though behind it lay the weight of the gruesome acts she had been forced to commit in order to survive during those initial two months.
Maurits had discovered Sasha in a pitiable state, her body covered in blood, multiple cuts, bruises, and healed scars. Sasha's proficiency with a dagger was remarkable, demonstrating remarkable speed in both throwing and stabbing. She always had five daggers on her person, ready to defend herself at a moment's notice. "I love my dagger," she declared, reaching into her pocket and revealing a vibrant pink one. "This is my favorite." Maeve tilted her head, gazing at the dagger with a mix of awe and curiosity. As an archer, her own weapon of choice had always been the bow.
Sensing Maeve's interest, Sasha turned to her and asked, "Would you like me to teach you how to use a dagger?" Before Maeve could respond, Maurits interjected, his possessiveness evident in his voice. "I will teach her." He was determined to be the sole instructor, wanting no one but himself to teach Maeve how to protect herself.
"Of course," Sasha replied, nodding in agreement. However, Maurits couldn't help but notice the slight eye roll from Sasha, a subtle indication that Maeve and her potential friendship had almost completely dissipated in that moment