Whitewashed

I Know You

Chapter 17: I Know You

I had been wearing Tommo’s shirt when I woke up that day. Two questions: How? And: Why? Haz had told me that there was blood on mine. Had it really been so bad that they had to change it? Where had it gone anyway?

Honestly, I don’t really care about the piece of clothing.

The thought is just to distract me from the irritating truth.

Either someone stole one of Tommo’s shirts and put it on me, or he actually cares. I’m not sure which one is more revolting or if there is any preference difference at all.

Throwing the map to the other end of the room, I turn onto my side to face away from it. I’m far too tired to care about something so trivial right now. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow and all I really want to do is go home.

Liam might be worried about me.

Maybe I’ll drop in tomorrow night and spend some time with him.

My bruises will be a little more faded and I don’t think there are any NEW marks on my body. There should be no reason for more suspicion. Maybe we can be normal again. Maybe I can finally find that equilibrium between these two worlds I seem to be living in.

This thought is comforting enough to fall asleep with, but again, true to the nature of this place, that comfort doesn’t last long.

All I see in my dreams that night is the fluttering of black wings, the clicking of large beaks, and the beady eyes of the one type of bird I hate most.

It’s an irrational fear really, but I hate them. Always have and likely always will.

I wake with a start, feeling like I should get to my feet. I don’t understand why until I hear the knock. Oh. Right. Haz’s “bright and early” training session. Groaning, I push my hair back by running my fingers through it and go to the door.

Little Man’s large smile greets me, “Haz told me to come and get you.”

“We’ll I’ve been come and gotten so you can tell Haz mission accomplished,” I reply almost grumpily and close the door between us. Already? What time is it? Can’t be long after maybe… seven?

Letting out a long sigh, I tie my hair back in a ponytail and splash some water on my face. Just gotta jump through a few more hoops, Brooke. Then everything will be okay. If Haz teaches me how to fight, maybe I can get out of this mess.

I won’t need protection from him or Tommo or anyone else.

I can leave and never be afraid of coming back because I’ll be able to defend myself.

I can be normal again.

With this in mind, I manage to jog over to the warehouse after changing clothes and taking my meds, perpetual soreness forgotten. My stamina and drive have been increased greatly with this endgame. I can do this. I CAN do this. I can do this because this is what will help me get back to Liam.

“Well, good t’ see YER happy and ready to go,” POGs grumbles as I let the door close behind me, a smile lighting my face. He looks like he’s in pain. “I didn’ even get t’ eat breakfas’.”

All but skipping over to the guy, I nod enthusiastically, “New outlook on life certainly does make a difference.”

Haz enters next, carrying three platefuls of breakfast, “I figured we could eat while we talk.”

“Ya mean while YOU talk,” POGs snorts, rolling his eyes but taking the food giddily.

We all sit on the concrete floor as the curly haired guy explains, “Alright, so now that Ozzie has a few basic punches down, I’m going to teach her how to block. Sound good? Since both of you clearly think you have a say in the situation.”