“I always forget. That’s what I do best!” He threw his hands in the air. “Forget your birthday Will! Forget your name William!” Ingrid gripped his shoulders, halting his hysterical pacing.
“Stop it. Right now. It’s not your fault.” He stared anxiously into her sparkling hazel eyes. “I’m sorry I asked about it.” She glanced away. Loosening her grip, she plopped on the bed. She patted the spot next to her, inviting Will to sit. He fell backwards onto his back, his arms out.
Ingrid stared absentmindedly out the dirty window. The tall, thick trees crowded up to the glass. A low fog swirled in the overgrown grass.
“It just- I feel like I’m losing things. People say that’s what life's about; making memories. But if I can’t keep them, what then?” Still staring out the window, she said,
“Then make every moment great. If you can’t remember something from five years ago, who cares? A hundred other people know and you can ask them.” She tore her stare away from the window and gazed intensly at him.
“But I do care! Memories are who you are! Experience helps you learn!” He sat up now, wringing his chapped hands worriedly. “And even if I was to ask all of those hundred people, It’d be a hundred different answers, a hundred exaggerations. And sometimes there’s things that happen that only I was there to see.” Ingrid’s bronze face loosened in concern.
“Well, then tell me what you do know.” Will stopped his gaze at the window, out to the leafy trees. He looked down before saying,
“There’s a lot of things that could happen, but most of the time at least one of us-” He stopped short. “At least one of us ends up dead.” He sounded choked. He looked up at the window, and in the reflection Ingrid could see that his eyes were glossy. “I’ve seen you die, Ingrid.” He turned to look at her. “And the worst part is sometimes I live. Sometimes I have to live without you for years and years. I just-” She interrupted him by throwing her arms around him in a hug.
“It’ll be alright.” She said, but she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.
Later, they had all gathered into the dining room for dinner. They called it “the dining room”, but it was just a cramped box with an old, worn table surrounded by creaky chairs. Will sat close to Ingrid. Theo, whose untameable curly brown hair stuck out in a fritz, was rubbing his palm anxiously with his thumb and slouched forward in his chair. Chadwick was leaning against the wall, rubbing his orange-brown stubble. Melody’s almond brown hair didn’t seem to be brushed, and although it was frizzy, it suited her. She strolled over tiredly and plopped in a chair.
Of the group, Ingrid and Will were the youngest. Theo, who was fifteen, was only a few years older than them. Chadwick was the oldest, at twenty two, but Melody was only a year behind him. There were dark circles under Melody’s eyes, and Will knew he looked the same. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep until the moon had almost set. He was struggling not to fall asleep on the spot, his head bobbing every so often. Chadwick pushed away from the wall and took a seat at the head of the table.
“So.” He prompted. “Anything new?” He looked pointedly at Will. He snapped up, his head had bobbed almost all the way down to the table.
“ Wha-” He noticed Chadwick. “Oh,” He said tiredly. “No.” He rubbed his eyes as he continued,
“We have to have to head out soon. Everyone should pack, so we can leave as soon as possible. We can’t let them find us.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. He lingered in his chair for a moment, not looking forward to the sore feet he was sure he would have. He trudged off to the room he’d been sharing with Theo. When he opened the door, he saw Theo was almost already packed. Not that they had brought much with them.
