MARKED

01

It was a hard sensation against my chest, cold and painful. Memories of lost loved ones resurfaced like oily paint on a canvas. It was smeared with darkness and blood. Depression the artist and I, the watcher. I stood by and watched as the painting was completed and wondered just why it didn't want to paint me also. It was hard and difficult and I had no idea that the world I once knew would deteriorate right before my eyes in a matter of seconds. Slip between my fingers like butter. Dead bodies. Bodies I recognized. Trampled. Strewn across. I put my pack on, wiped away the last tear I would allow myself to shed. The world was different. Changed.

And so was I.

----

It had been months since I had eaten freshly cooked meat. I ripped away at it like a starving cannibal and relished in the satisfaction I hadn't felt in so long. Warm food. The stolen bottle of wine. The fruits we found in that field. A warm campfire. No noise. No destruction around us for at least 300 feet. Stillness. The crackling of the fire. Heaven. It was heaven.

Aaron sat across from the fire, on the other side. Sharpening his knives. The orange flames illuminated his hard face and his creased eyebrows. He looked like something was bothering him. I did not ask what it was. I knew something had to have been bothering him. There's been something bothering all of us since the Turn. There was no use in asking a question I already knew the answer to.

Around us was the cave walls. And outside the cave walls was a dark sky. Indigo colored. A million brilliant stars shining, twinkling in oblivion. I chuckled to myself. It was as if the whole world was given the benefit of ignorance. Humans killing themselves and the planet and all the stars had to do was watch. Maybe even laugh. Comical. Suddenly, I was envious of the damned stars and fixed my eyes back onto the fire.

Aaron looked up at me and then at my greasy hands. And then his eyes landed on the pile of bones I left beside my leg. "For a small person, you sure do eat a lot," he joked. His face was still serious and his attention went back to his knives but his eyebrows weren't bunched up together anymore and that was how I knew whatever was bothering him was temporarily put to rest in the back of his mind.

I shrugged and leaned back on the rock wall behind me. "Remember when we would throw the food we didn't like into the napkin and hide it under the table when mom wasn't looking? I hate myself for taking that food for granted."

The corner of his mouth went into a slight grin and he stopped what he was doing and looked up at me through the fire. "Maybe that was what all of this was for. To change human indifference."

I scoffed. "Or maybe it was bad karma. You're such an optimist."

"You should try it. It makes life a little easier to live."

I stayed quiet and glanced down at my hands. Nothing could make this life easier to live. Easy should not even be in our vocabulary anymore. Moments of silence followed until the fire we had going began to die down. I shuddered as the cold air resurfaced again. I pulled up the hood of my sweater. I helped Aaron clean up the food we had left behind and he took a final swig of the wine before screwing the cap back on and shoving it gently into his pack. It was our only remedy. Alcohol. Some things never change.

---

After cleaning, and making sure all food was hidden away deep into our packs, we fixed our sleeping space-- which really only consisted of our packs as pillows and our spare jackets as blankets. Aaron always slept on the side facing the entrance of wherever we settled into for the night, his back the shield between me, his little sister, and whatever it was that lurked out there. I tried to take his spot, just to make him feel protected, but he wouldn't allow it. After claiming that I did not stand a chance in a fight, he'd soften and tell me, "I don't want to lose you, too."