𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

24. Cooties.

T W E N T Y - F O U R
Cooties.

My nose begins to burn, sniffing back my emotion and in the cold air is not a good combination.

The night is dark, I'll have to go down to the stream and find one of the caves carved out the side. I'll stay there until tomorrow, then I can go from there. I can figure it out, I've done it before, I did it while recovering from being shot, I can figure it out now.

My feet crunch through the snow that begun falling again, eventually, I arrive at the formidable gates. Large logs of wood, the ends sharpened to spikes that scream don't fuck with us.

"Let me out," I demand to the man standing guard, he doesn't even look at me. I know he's heard me, the night is quiet and he isn't all that far away. Feeling rather juvenile, I don't shout again, rather, I grab a stone and lob it at his head. Shockingly, it meets its target.

He grunts, clearly shocked by my petty reaction to him blanking him. I'm in a bad mood, sue me. "The fuck was that!" He shouts, rubbing his head and looking back at me.

I adjust my backpack, it having been thrown off kilter when I leant down. "Let me out, open the gates, and let me frolic off away from this cursed place." I gesture to the gates as he seems to be stupid. "It's clear you don't like me, you were the one who yanked a kid off the road so I didn't do God knows what, so let me through and I can be on my merry fucking way."

His glare hardens, his hands dance over the gun as if weighing the merit of shooting me where I stand. That sure would be a statement, I wonder about the ripple effect of that. Surely that would change something, someone oh-so innocent like me getting gunned down? Only a sick fuck would do that. That's too dark for this idyllic town.

"Why are you leaving?" His voice is gruff.

"I set a bomb, the timer is ticking, I don't want to blow up." I can't help but snap. Why does he want my reasoning? Can I not just leave; since when did this become a hostage situation? "You gonna let me out or do I have to climb the fence, because where there is a will, there is a motherfucking way, and boy do I have a will."

The man's chin jerks toward the man manning the other guard tower, perhaps I should've targeted him, he seems new to the job. Tall and wiry, clearly a teenager who hasn't gotten over the awkward stage yet. That or he doesn't know how a gun works, he's holding it like it's an actual bomb that's actually about to go off. "Get Maria, tell her someone's got the bright idea of leaving and we don't know why." He orders, the teen is all too happy to oblige, scurrying down the tower and past me, not even looking in my general direction.

"Skittish little thing, isn't he," I comment mostly to myself. The snow doesn't soak up enough noise to muffle the comment.

"He's twenty-one, still nervous around girls," the man speaks back lowly, not happy with my judgement. Older than I thought, and rather tragic.

"You say that like it's an appropriate age to not be over the cooties stage. He's a grown-ass adult. The dude's probably got a shitty excuse for a beard-"

"Bobbie. I had a feeling it would be you," I can hear the smile in Mandy's voice. One of those thinly veiled annoyed smiles adults do to younger people. It's condescending as shit. Talk to me straight, call me a bitch.

I turn to face her, the smile drops off her face when she sees my expression. "I'm going. Adios. Bonne nuit. Adieu."

The woman raises an eyebrow. "At night?" She states the obvious, as if I missed the fact it's pitch black. I'm being stupid, but I'm not an idiot. There's a clear difference.

"Obviously."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she once again uses the gentle voice. Generally, people who use that voice are the least gentle people. It's a front for cunts.