"I want ... " I stopped, and got to my feet, wiping away the tears that were beginning to spill and roll down my cheeks. "Never mind what I want," I mumbled.
Rasmus grabbed my arm. "No. What do you want?"
I looked right into his eyes. "You." Always...
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{ Ida } 2 9 t h o f A p r i l, 2 0 2 4
I thought I would be safer travelling away from the roads. Now being completely and utterly lost, I don't think I could have been more wrong. Standing in a ring of dense green trees towering above me into the foggy sky, about a foot of amber-coloured leaves coating the ground, I sifted through all my issues, knuckles whitening from clutching my large, stained hunting knife so tightly.
First of all, I was running dangerously low on food and had been living on one meagre meal a day: most of the time beef jerky strips and a few cashew nuts. I needed to get to the next town and fast, but for all I knew, I had been wandering around aimlessly in circles for the past however many hours.
Secondly, a group of Strangers had been trying to hunt me down just a day ago, and I was worried they might be still out there, all in black, guns cocked. With the sun hanging on the horizon, they would soon be able to blend in like crows on a chalkboard.
Thirdly, the rain was going to streak down any second. It had been a good dry few days, but I could sense a spring shower was well overdue, unfortunately.
Oh, and there was the fact that I had had to kill my best friend and accomplice of five months a week ago. It wasn't the first time I'd been lucky to have good aim when throwing knives. Her name was Mathilde, only a few years older than me. All she did was trip when we were crossing a small stream. That was just how brutal the world was now; how easily someone you loved could simply become another diseased monster to kill.
I hated this disgusting, disaster of a world. And even though I hated it so much I couldn't bear to die because I had to avenge all the people it had ripped from me. Friends, family ...
A rustle and the thump of running feet interrupted my thoughts and I whirled around, ready to sprint even though I was so fatigued and only wanted to curl up into a ball, bury myself in these leaves and sleep for the rest of my lifetime. But out of the corner of my eye, as they skidded to a stop a safe distance away, I let a little relief flood my body. These weren't strangers; they were survivors, like me.
Slowly, cautiously, I turned to face them. Then I heard the click of a rifle, and noticed one of the guys clutching a gun that was steadily pointed straight at my head. I had no choice but to bend down, raincoat crackling, and place my knife in the leaves and hold up my hands. Sure, they probably couldn't be trusted but five people and gun wasn't quite a match for a loner girl and a couple of household knifes. Plus, I'd rather die fast than gradually of starvation if it came down to it.
"Who are you?" the man with the rifle said. He appeared to be in his early twenties or late teens, but his face was so worn from battle scars it was hard to tell. In all honesty, I was almost definitely the same.
I tried to speak, but my voice came out as a croak. After all, I hadn't spoken to anyone since Mathilde's death. I tried again. "I'm Ida Holst."
The man pressed his cracked lips together in a thin line and held his finger to the trigger. "Got any friends with you?"
Panic rose in my throat. I didn't show it. "No. I'm alone. What're you doing out here?"
A girl with dark hair scooped back messily touched his shoulder and whispered something to him. He lowered his gun slightly. "Could ask the same about you," he replied.
Another girl with a ponytail of blonde hair and braces shoved to the front of the group. "Seriously, Martin?" she said, looking at the man, who continued glaring in my direction. "She's obviously not a threat. She can't be older than twelve."
"I'm fifteen," I said, cheeks flushing pink.
"Little young to be by yourself," Martin said, training the gun back on me.
The braces girl sighed loudly in annoyance. "Martin!" She pointed to me, standing awkwardly. My arms were beginning to hurt from holding them up for so long. "We should help her, then, if you really think that."
After a few more seconds, Martin, extremely reluctantly, slung his gun back onto his back and gestured to me to come over to them.
I felt overcome with happiness and relief. I had always strayed away from groups, either travelling alone or with at most one other. I hadn't realised how much I needed one until now.
"But," Martin said as I took a single step forward, picking my knife up and tucking it into my belt. "Watch your back, whatever you said your name was. One wrong move ... " He tapped his gun, making intense eye contact with me so long I was forced to advert my eyes. Then he turned and began walking, meaning for the group to follow him. "Lea, she's your responsibility," he huffed over his shoulder.
The braces girl smiled warmly as I joined the group, a significant contrast to Martin's welcome. "I'm Lea," she said, rubbing my arm. "Sorry about Martin. He's a nice guy once you get to know him, trust me."
Suddenly, I felt really tired; as if the world had drained me for everything that I had. But my heart was so swelled with joy I didn't even care.
No, there was no intense, incredible story about how I came across Martin's group. It was as simple as that. They found me. Little did I know it was the beginning of something beautiful. Until I walked over to them in that forest that I hadn't even meant to be in, I'd forgotten what true love and friendship really were. I'd had Mathilde and others, sure, but they were merely a page in my book, gone before I even knew their middle name. I would discover that this group of misfits would write my whole book. And they were my true family. After all, family isn't who you're born with. It's who you'd die for.
