The World's Aftermath [ON MAJOR EDIT]

Chapter 16 [Cleo]

"Ya still hungry?" Eric questions, taking the last gulp of warm water.

The smell of a nice doughy and baked toasted bread crawls into my nose, it gives the sort of joy a morning should deserve. "I had a very cold sleep," I shrug, chewing and chewing it all at once. And occasionally tapping a rhythm with the fork when Aunt Rosie doesn't see.

The garden had to be tended with her care, luckily.

"And that, brings me to the next question, did they give you food?" I ask.

"For free? Yeah, of course," He says, seriousness setting in his eyes, "But it was a nightmare."

I scrape the bottom of my finger's nail on the table's edge, a temptation from an old habit. Chandeliers and wooden furnitures all around are somehow shaking within his words. 

Nightmares. What everybody's been seeing.

I shake that horrible stamina off, suddenly wishing for warmer weathers and sunnier skies. The unfinished plate of breakfast is the only part of joy on this very morning. And, Eric too, of course. "Oh, and do they still wear black clothing?" I ask again.

"What are you, serious?" He says, frowning. 

"Yes." Cold freezing air exhales from the tip of my toes to this head full of questions. "Yes, I am. I need to know. About...everything, really."

"Everything?"

I roll my eyes in response, "Yes, Eric. Yes, yes, yes... All the details."

"All the details?" He asks in repeat.

I sigh with the patience starting to slow down, "Mmhmm..." Giving three nods of affirmative certainty.

He snorts, the curl of his bouncing hair looks much funnier as he shakes his head with a smug, "Well I hope you don't kill me with that fork of yours."

The grip of my fork is barely noticeable, but indeed, it seems that I have lost a little bit of control. Not that I'm strong enough to break it, though. 

"Let's just talk, Eric. Before your mama bear tries to attack me again."

"Shush it, don't be a cunthead," He warns, splashing the water drops straight to my direction. Plates glimmer with them.

"Ugh-what is wrong with you?" I say, rather impatiently. "You come back full of energy, I had to cry for you, you didn't have to see that awful scene at school–never mind that, and the next day, you're just so full of surprises. Surprise, surprise, Eric's all gloomy."

"At least I'm not the one desperate for useless answers."

"Good for you, then," I remark.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You just... don't look as bad as it could've been, actually you look physically okay--oh and I heard something happened to Lisa's uncle, bizarre story, never heard of it. You must be lucky then, very lucky..."

"He was the missing fella, the dude with the beard plastered on those wanted signs."

"They took it off last year, didn't they?" I wonder.

He shrugs, clueless. "I'm not interested in joining him."

"But... Missing? That means he's still roaming around," I say, terrifying thoughts swimming through the back of my mind.

"Who knows? I'm betting he's either homeless... or dead," He says casually.

With Eric having to say those words so effortlessly--an easy slur coming right out of his mouth--I ponder over what Lisa might say if she is here. Whether her uncle had an image that awful or not, there must be some pieces of grieve left in her. I don't have the full remembrance of her remark about him, but there was still that drip of sadness in her tone.