La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

27. La Culpabilité de Caïn

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 27: La Culpabilité de Caïn

Bradley's presence had always disturbed me, ever since we first met. There was just something rotten, perverse and off-putting about him. Sure, I was grateful that he helped bring Leslie back in one piece, but then I remembered the gunshots and screams, and it took me back to the reality of who he was.

I still thought about the man I shot. Alan, or Allan, whatever it was. It was a secret I didn't tell anyone. Only the girl and I knew what went down in that room.

The gulit still lingered in my heart, coming in bouts. I'd never forget how his skull split open, how its contents sprayed all over the floor. To kill a zombie is one thing, but to take an actual, breathing human was another.

Leslie took the time he needed to recover. Surprisingly, he actually listened to Clara's orders, staying confined to the bed for the first couple of weeks. Then Clara let him go back to his room, which was a relief somewhat. It gave us a sense of privacy at least.

I stayed with him for the most part, which was how I managed to stay out of Bradley's way. Isabella would come to visit him from time to time. She'd sit by the bed and talk to him, and once I even walked in on her reading him a book.

"She insisted that she read me something," the young man chuckled as she left the room, when I told her that Clara was looking for her. "I haven't read anything in months."

"Hey," I said, laughing. "She does that to me too, sometimes. I'd be doing my algebra homework and she'd try to tell me about something interesting she read. It's cute, but kinda annoying sometimes."

"You make me wish I had a little sister," he said, as he tilted his head back. "But now I have her."

I only rolled my eyes as I handed his bowl of soup. Recently we've been having squash from the garden, the harvests of fall beginning to come in. Leslie didn't know since Clara didn't want him out in the garden helping out, but the frost was coming in, and some of the plants died on one of the chilly nights. It's been roughly a month since Bradley shot up the school. Leslie was recovering quite well.

"It'd be nice if you fed me," he said, handing the bowl back. "You know, just like how you did for the last two weeks."

"Oh god," I muttered. "That was different."

"Yeah," the young man said, looking at me with his bright blue eyes. "But I liked it when you did that."

I let out a deep sigh, giving in to him. There was a smirk on the young man's lips. He knew he got his way.

Gosh, he was such a boy.

He opened wide as I brought a spoonful of soup to his lips. I continued to feed him, until he drained the entire bowl.

"How are you feeling?" I asked as I placed the empty bowl aside. "You look much better."

"My side still hurts sometimes, but I should be fine," the young man told me. "I want to get to work, but Clara wouldn't let me, you know?"

"She's worried for you, alright?" I reassured him. "You took a pretty rough shot. You remember how much it hurt, right?"

"Don't remind me," Leslie said. "But you know, I was thinking we could do something fun."