Of June

5- Real Bizarre

Getting out of the shower, I realise how much I actually needed the refreshment. It feels good to finally wash off all the dirt from my body; up until an hour ago I was almost convinced that I smelled like rotten meat, and it's a mystery how both Mrs. Young and Adam have managed to stand beside me so far even for two seconds. Avoiding soap on the scraped areas of my skin was a painful challenge, though, but definitely worth it. Drying off my wet hairs with a towel, I notice Mrs. Young standing at the doorstep with a box in her hands. A casual smile stretches her lips.

"Time to dress your wounds."

"Mom! When's dinner?!" A muffled voice comes from a distance just as Mrs. Young is done cutting off the thin piece of extra gauze wrapped around my knee. Hearing his voice, she turns around before shouting back with a reply.

"Coming in a minute!"

Before we could bundle up the first aid kit, a head pokes itself inside through the door opened slightly ajar.

"What are you guys-" Adam's eyes land on the pair of scissors as it points upright in Mrs. Young's hand. Right through its razor sharp blades, I can see his face frozen aghast. He looks over at me with puzzlement before staring at the wide mess of bandages, gauze and ointments lying beside where I sit, finally comprehending everything before breaking the awkward silence. "-oh. . ."

Mrs. Young seems slightly offended as she lowers down the pair of scissors. "Seriously?"

"Sorry to interrupt," he gives a meek grin. "I was just wondering if. . ."

"We're coming in a few."

"Okay. . ." He says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder just as our eyes make a momentary contact. For a second I could swear I saw a tint of pink surfacing up his cheeks. "I'll be waiting there."

This guy needs to stop being flustered about every situation.

-

I stare intently at the meal placed before me, mouth watering enough to fill up a bucket. The round dining table presents bowls filled up to the brim with delicious looking food as boiling steam continuously emerges from its surface. The mild haze caused by evaporation offers both of their faces a blurred visibility. Mrs. Young happily crams up a dish with food while Adam looks down at his lap, glancing up every so often to check if she was done so that he may begin with his attack on the grilled steak placed right across the table.

"So, Madison?" Mrs. Young asks as I finish slurping a spoonful of thick warm soup- so delicious that I feel this urge to drop the spoon and guzzle it down all in one go. I don't care if it was my last dish, although she must've probably assumed I'm done with fulfilling my appetite.

"Yes?" I respond, trying not to sound too uninterested. I place the ceramic spoon back in the bowl and draw up myself for a possible explanation.

"Adam told me you got kidnapped."

Adam starts coughing.

I immediately offer him my glass of water, which he accepts with a feverish 'thank you' before drinking a sip until his coughing slowly dies down.

"Mom!"

She raises up her hands in defense, shrugging nonchalantly. "You were the one who thought I was using scissors on our new guest."

I start coughing.

Where's my glass of water? Ah. . .

Mrs. Young points a thumb at her son, her expression totally unbothered. "He also said he brought you home because he thinks you're beautiful."