T W O
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The sound of birds outside the window lulled me out of my slumber that morning, light streaming through the window into the room, illuminating it in a warm glow. I peeled my eyes open, raising my hands to my eyes, rubbing them gently. I clumsily moved a hand to my side, feeling for my revolver, to find it not there.
I shot up, looking round the room, before relaxing. I was in that place I'd fallen into yesterday. I peeled the blanket off of my thin body gently, brushing the strands of hair out of the way as I moved my feet onto the cold ground. I blinked, letting my eyes slowly adjust to the bright light. The cold surface underneath my feet cooled my warm body, although I couldn't exactly remember when I had taken my shoes- or shoe- off.
I lifted myself off the bed slowly, making sure to take my time, as I felt if I moved quickly, I'd just completely topple over. I leaned my hand against the cold, white wall, making my way towards the window. I rubbed my eyes again, before glancing outside, my jaw dropping.
People, just, walking down the street. As if it was nothing. One woman was walking a dog. A dog. One that didn't want to eat her alive. A family pet, one that wanted to stay by your side and serve you loyally forever. I hadn't seen that ever since the end started. I saw a woman with blonde hair holding hands with a younger boy, who looked around 7 or 8, smiling. A young boy. There's no way he knew how to defend himself, right?
I saw an older boy with blonde hair walking beside them, a beanie placed upon his unruly strands. He was tall, with a lanky posture, wearing skinny jeans and a green flannel. He looked so, so, normal. Clean. They all looked clean, everyone that I saw walking down the street.
I glanced down at myself. Dirt riddled every open area of skin, scratches and small
bruises littering up my arms. The hair that I could see reaching to my waist was tangly, greasy. I assumed that I smelled as bad as I looked too. My clothes were hanging off of my body basically, ripped in so many places that it seemed completely impossible to think they had been normal clothes beforehand. How did they look so clean?
The door to the room opened, and I immediately spun round, hands curling into fists. A lady with short grey hair walked in, holding a plate. Of food. Of stale food? No, of cooked food. The scent of baked beans floated into my nostrils as my mouth watered, my stomach growling in hunger. Still, I kept my ground, giving the woman a brief lookover.
She was fragile, thinly built, with kind blue eyes and a big smile. I could see how fake it was, though. She didn't care about me, she was probably just doing as she was told. She probably wasn't as fragile as she seemed- it was an act, so people wouldn't see her for what she actually was.
"Hello. Elliot, right? I brought you some food." She said, moving into the room. I stepped back slightly.
"Don't be worried, I'm not gonna do anything to you." The woman said, closing the door, smiling brightly at me. She held the plate out towards me, a cup of water in the other hand. Cautiously, I walked over to her, taking the cup and plate from her hands gently.
"Thank you." I said. She nodded.
"My name's Carol, by the way."
"Thank you, Carol." I replied, moving towards the bed, settling myself back onto it, before picking up a fork. God, how long it had been since I'd used a fork to eat food. Usually I just shoveled whatever I could get my hands on into my mouth, but in this new place, I felt like I had to use manners, be polite. Really, I was entitled to, considering they kinda saved my life, if I liked it or not.
