"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may."
-Buddha
Today's the day. The day I leave this room. The room I've been confined to for almost a week.
Hattie and Tyler came in and out of my room periodically to check up on me while they waited for my health confirmation from Bruce. Three days after my conversation with Hattie, Bruce said I was good to go.
Bruce is a burly man, who stands about 6 foot 5. At first glance he's extremely intimidating, but he really isn't once your around him for a bit. He's a gentle giant. His head is shaved, along with his face. I can guess he is in his late thirties or early forties, but I may never know. He is wearing a black, oversized shirt and a pair of blue jeans. His hands are massive and scarred, but they redress my wounds softly. A sweet smile is perched on his lips as I thank him, but no words escape. He has a gun in his waistband and two knifes in his belt loop. Even though he's a kind man, something tells me he uses those often.
I gingerly rise from the bed, preparing to meet the group. Tyler has assured me they are good people, but you can never be too sure. I don't have any weapons on me, so my words are my only defense.
I stand in front of the window across from my bed. My reflection is barely visible in the glass, but I can still see it. My hazel eyes, flicked with pieces of amber. My auburn hair falling loosely at my shoulders. I stare uncomfortably at myself, a person I haven't seen in a long time. My reflection is not the same as it was a year ago. It's scary.
"You ready?" Tyler pokes his head into the room.
I turned to him. "You ever heard of knocking?"
"My common courtesy skills have diminished since the apocalypse," he jokes.
I smile faintly before joining him in the threshold.
He must see my nervousness, because he grabs my shoulders and stares at me with his stunning eyes that almost knock me off my feet.
"Hey," he says smoothly. "Don't be nervous. This is no big deal."
My head bobs shakily as he releases me and guides me down a hallway.
The hardwood is cold against my bare feet, and I'm shivering in my white tank top and light jeans. As I turn a corner, I can see snow on the ground outside a window. Hello winter, nice to see you again.
One more turn, and I'm facing the same group of faces as I was that day I met them in my room. Carter is standing at the center of it all, his hands on his hips. The group surrounds him, either sitting on the furniture, standing behind him, or leaning against a wall. The room is painted the same light blue as my room, and the antique furniture gives it a very serene vibe.
"Bruce says your feeling better," Carter states, shifting his weight to his left leg.
"I am."
"You ready to go out with us?"
He's very blunt, isn't he.
"Um.. uh... I don't have a weapon," I stammer, fidgeting my fingers in discomfort.
Carter walks toward me slowly, my machete resting in his rough palms.
My heart skips a beat as he places the machete in my hands, and I grip the leather handle tightly.
"Now are you ready?"
His eyes run over me, taking me all in. I don't take my eyes off of him, holding my ground.
