Gory Glory // l.t au

6 - Louis

Louis

We sat together in peaceful quiet, the occasional small talk slipping in. Leila had found a lot of canned food that had preserved well, so I was onto my fourth tin of peaches, whilst she was preoccupied with washing some clothes in the river beside us. We had set up a little two-man camp and it was really...nice. Poor choice of words, I know, but there was no other way to really describe it. It was just so comfortable and, yeah, nice.

I glanced over at Leila to see her furiously scrubbing at some camouflage print skinny jeans with intentional rips in them. She stopped and, sighing, hastily pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail, probably to get it out the way. A few rebel locks broke lose from the hair tie, falling into tendrils to frame her face.

She continued to scrub angrily at the clothing and her locket round her neck jingled, bouncing on her chest. It was only then I noticed she had never taken it off. I decided to spark up a conversation, question her about it. “What's...um...what's with the necklace?” I asked nervously.

She froze, her hand remaining in the water. Her gaze was still fixed on the jeans when she spoke, a soft low murmur. “It was given to me”.

“Oh. Who by?”

She paused for a moment, before looking down and continuing to wash the clothes, completely ignoring the question.

“Leila?”

She still ignored me.

I decided to let it go, taking the hint it was a subject she didn't wish to discuss. I finished my peaches and approached the river, cleaning out the tin to recycle it. I didn't turn to look at Leila, and she never moved her gaze from the river. I got up and headed to the Jeep for a towel to dry it, when I heard a voice behind me, making me jump slightly. “My dad gave it to me”.

I spun around to see her sitting on the rock facing me, her elbows in her lap. Her fingers were twisting the locket round.

I slowly moved towards her and sat on the rock in front, so I was opposite her.

“He gave it to me when I was six. I've changed the chain a couple of times 'cos it got too short but all in all, I've never removed it. I guess you could call me sentimental, but that makes me sound like a soppy old sod”.

“It doesn't make you sound soppy at all. I think it's sweet”.

I could tell by Leila's hard glare I'd chosen the wrong word. “Sweet? No, no no no,” she stuck her hands out in a 'stop' gesture and waved them around, “I don't do sweet. Sweet is all cupcakes and rainbows and happy little unicorns. Sweet is believing all this optimistic crap is gonna happen to you in the future, when, in fact, it doesn't. Life just turns more and more shit each passing day. You think it's gonna get better, but it never does”.

Okay, she's kinda moving off the topic of 'sweet' now, but nevertheless, I let her continue. I wouldn't dare interrupt her when she's in this type of mood – one of which I have experienced from her too much, considering the length of time I've known her.

She sighed and wound a loose tendril round her finger. “All those exams I passed,” she muttered under her breath, and I couldn't comprehend whether it was to me or to herself, “All that stress at school. False hopes and dreams. And for what?”

“What did you want to do?” I asked curiously, “You know, like in the future”.

“What does it matter now?” she spat, “It's not like it's going to happen”.

“Yeah, but maybe you'll feel better talking about it”.

“Why would talking make me feel better? It's just words”.

“What, you mean you've never spoken to anyone about your problems, or feelings or anything? Ever?” I asked, astounded. She flicked her eyes up to me momentarily, and then back to the loose strand of hair she was now plaiting. “Wow,” I breathed, “Well, that does explain a lot I guess”.

Only after I said it did I regret it.

“What do you mean? What does it explain?” she asked with a demanding tone laced in her voice.

“Oh. Uh...nothing”.

She kept her glare firmly on me, blue fire burning into my skin. That stare alone made it clear she was not going to let the subject drop and I was going to tell her. “It's nothing really,” I began, attempting to seem casual,”You're just very...closed is all”. I awkwardly looked down and picked some imaginary lint off of my trousers.

“How so?” she questioned, pressing on for further answers and explanations.

“You're just...not really one to, you know, express emotions”.

She didn't respond for a while.

“A singer,” she finally muttered, her eyes on the ground.

“Huh?”

“I wanted to be a singer when I was older,” she looked up and met my surprised gaze, one of my eyebrows arched. She smiled weakly, laughing softly through her nose. “I know, not what you'd expect, huh?”

“No, it's just...well, yeah. I didn't know you sing”.

“There's a lot you don't know about me, Stripes”.

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I began a new topic, “I like to sing too. I was gonna audition for this big talent competition a few years ago, but I got nervous and never went. Doubt I would have gotten very far with it any way”.

“Hmm...never saw you as the singing type. Funny thing is, I was actually going to audition for a show on TV this year. You know, before humanity was destroyed and everything”.

“I'm sure you would have been great,” I smiled. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You want to...you want to sing now?” I asked her curiously.

She made a 'pff' sound with her lips and slowly shook her head. “Not on your life, Stripes,” she smirked, amused.

“Oh...um...okay”. Once again, a long silence settled over us.

“Right, sod this,” she sighed as she heaved herself up from the rock she was sitting on, “I'm gonna go wash,” she headed to the tent, “I nearly smell as bad as you,” she joked under her breath.

She emerged from the tent moments later in nothing but a black lace bikini and, of course, her locket dangling from her neck. I glanced up from twiddling my thumbs and couldn't help but perform a double take. She seemed to notice as one side of her lips tugged up in a devious manner. “Like what you see?”

“I...no – yes – of course I don't see you in that way...not that you're ugly or anything, I...”

She tipped her head back and let out a musical laugh at my struggle to form a single, coherent sentence. She proceeded to walk towards the river. What the hell is wrong with me? She sauntered passed me and waded into the river.

“It looks pretty dirty, Leila,” I pointed out.

“So? You think I have any other choice? And besides, you washed in it, so...” she cupped her hands as to catch the water and poured it over her head. Her lids fluttered shut and her long eyelashes pressed gently against her cheeks. Her lips were parted ever so slightly as she continued to run her hands over her body, cleaning herself.

I couldn't help but subtly glance at her through my lashes as I pretended to watch the ground ahead of me. She really was pretty, and looked so innocent without the many weapons attached to every inch of her body. Who would have thought that underneath the sweet exterior was a remorseless, unstoppable killing machine?

Starting to feel a little awkward, I stood up and made my way to the tent. But instead of going inside, I went round behind it and crouched on my knees. Finding nothing better to do, I brought my arms out in front of me and began doing press-ups. Today's going to be a long, unproductive day.

As usual.