ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

69: I'm Shrieking

Leo 69

"You holdin' up?" Dawn places an arm around me, and every inch of my skin freezes.

She heard what happened to Ella. Clint, as far as I can tell, doesn't believe she remembers anymore. For a long time, that was the running theory, but she's just gone off the bend lately. From what I can tell, he thinks she really is hallucinating.

I nod, and I lie. "She's okay. Awake now."

"Probably a brain tumour," Jackson notes, chowing down on his meat.

Dawn simply glares at him, and as Michelle walks up, she shoves him off the log where he sits. While Dawn laughs aloud, I try to hide my smile. Jackson coughs, the chicken in his mouth spewing all over the ground, which only causes Dawn's laugh to grow louder.

"Sorry Jackson, want to repeat that?" Michelle asks, passing by him. She rubs his hair, in a way which I imagine is supposed to be compassionate, but instead is aggressive and condescending.

"Careful now," Dawn warns, a teasing tone. She's light and playful. "You might not want to mess with Michelle. I hear she carries a knife."

Jackson was the Bagger who accused her of stabbing him. I remember those days; when everyone was worried we were shacking it up with the boys in power and trying to take over. When it looked like Newt and Gally were teaming up to overthrow Alby.

Now some of us actually are shacking the leaders, and people have pretty much accepted we know nothing more than we claim.

"I haven't forgotten about that," she spits, literally, on him.

See, I was all for this until she spat on him. Is that a punishable offense? Does it only come back to her if he hits her?

I don't have the energy to care. I've been really tired lately. None of this matters anyway. She'll get thrown in the Slammer, and then we will continue this never-ending cycle of despair so strong it weighs my stomach down into my knees.

Apparently, for a Bagger, Jackson is relatively smart. He leaves his klunk on the ground, getting up and walking away from us.

"Getting all sentimental on us now?" Dawn continues to smile Michelle, who only gives her back the look I first had when I tried a lemon. "Since when do you care about the, and I quote, "Pipsqueak"?"

Her teasing is a bit rough.

"I don't," she brushes it off, taking a bite in the apple off Jackson's plate. Her mouth is full as she speaks. "I just really shucking hate him." She pauses, swallowing and turning to me. "You got a shipment for us?"

"You want clothes?" I'd be surprised if Michelle showers more than once a week. I don't know her well enough to decide if she does or doesn't smell bad, but she barely seems like the kind of person who cares about cleanliness. Maybe Dave is making a good impression on her.

She shakes her head, taking another bite into the apple. I'm surprised she has even managed to carry a conversation with us this long. I kind of like this, the part of us being all friends. It feels familiar.

"Blood," she tells me. When I don't know how to answer what she means, she gestures downwards. "Blood. Lots of blood."

"Oh," I remark. "I can go get you some? We all needed it weeks ago."