"The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."
-Carl Jung
After my brief introduction to the group, I start to get hope that these people will welcome me in. And I'll finally have people again. I won't be alone.
But every time I think about having people, my mind drifts to the last time I had people. The death, horror, and destruction of that day is something I don't want to relive. Even in my nightmares.
Carter seems nice enough. So does Tyler. But I really know nothing about them, they could be dangerous. Or psychopaths. But then again, everyone in this world is. And if you're not, it's considered a bad thing.
I am surprised to see a new face beside my bed that afternoon when I awake from my nap. I wipe away the sleep from my eyes to get a better look at the figure next to me.
It is a women, in her mid to late twenties. She has fiery red hair tied back in two braids. Her eyes are a light green shade that reminds me of an old forest trail I used to walk with my parents. They passionately twinkle with courage and strength. Freckles are littered across her high cheek bones and decorate the bridge of her nose. She has skinny lips and a beautiful smile underneath them.
She must have had braces.
Her dainty fingers trace the cross dangling from a silver chain around her neck. Her shirt is army camouflage and has been cut off just above the waistband on her light blue jeans. A black bandana is tied around her wrist, for reasons I can not understand. I can barely see the six throwing knifes hanging from a holster on the right side of her black, leather belt. Her arm rests near them, but other than that, she is completely relaxed.
"You haven't eaten in a while," her voice is soft, like summer rain. "I brought you some leftover squirrel my brother found."
I nod a thanks to her and take the plate she was holding out to me. The meat is a bit charred and difficult to cut into, but again, it feels nice to have food in my stomach.
We sit in awkward silence as I eat. What's even more awkward is that she watches me eat.
So, I decide conversation wouldn't be a bad idea.
"What's your name?" I ask politely, looking up from the plastic plate in my lap.
"Hattie Wells."
I smile slightly, acknowledging that I heard her.
"I like that name," I reply. "My names Ryan--"
"I know," she interrupts, laughing smugly.
The silence returns, and I try to think of ways to lighten the tense mood. But only questions about the group flood my thoughts, so I ask them.
"That Carter guy," I start, chewing on the last piece of tender squirrel. "He's the leader isn't he?"
She nods slowly, dodging my eyes. She's holding something back.
"What makes him the boss?" I ask, trying to ease into her uncomfortableness with him.
Hattie still doesn't look at me, but she says, "He got us together. And he's not afraid to.... do things."
"What kind of things?" I furrow my brow.
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she answers.
"Terrible things."
She begins to rub the pendant on her necklace shakily, a growing fear in her eyes. I figure the subject of Carter is a subject to tuck away for another time.
