Cree walks me back to my apartment and we don't so much as kiss, I don't mind because we're basically together now so there's plenty of time to kiss him again. And maybe again after that. Rylyn is still asleep on the sofa where I left her since she stayed the night so I make in my priority to wake her up from her not so peaceful slumber - sprawled out virtually upside down.
I dump my coat on the floor and start to shake her a bit, "Rylyn." I sing into her ear, "Rylyn, time to wake up." She groans a bit and grumbles something indecipherable to herself, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.
This time I shake her a bit harder, she pulls herself on to the sofa properly but still remains with her eyes closed. "Rylyn get up!" I hiss into her ear. She pulls away from my voice letting out a frustrated groan and tugging her blanket over her head.
Okay. There's only one way to wake the dead. I need to make this room as bright as possible and expose her to it. I quickly run around the room to switch all the lights on and open the curtains before running back to her and ripping her blankets off of her.
She screeches, clawing for the blankets but it's no use, she's exposed and has to face the light after hibernating in darkness for days. "Trula, you fucking shit!" She covers her eyes, "Give them back!"
"No, you need to go home or at least get off my sofa." I say sternly.
"Fine. God!" She huffs, sliding of the sofa and heading to the kitchen. Her eyeliner is now smudged and makes her look like she has two black eyes, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hijab, however, is still perfectly in place.
"Don't you have anything to eat in here?" She calls from the kitchen and I hear about five cupboards slam at once. I then hear her routing through the fridge.
I follow her and see that she's crouched down in front of the fridge, examining a large tub of margarine. "Well you can't exactly eat that."
She shoots me a glare, "I know that, shit face. I'm just wondering why you would need so much margarine."
"To bake with." I state, taking the tub out of her hands and sliding it back in its place.
"You bake?" She tries to mask the excitement in her voice but I still catch it.
"Yeah, why?"
"Nothing." She quips. She looks out of the window and speaks like she's thinking to herself, "I wish I could bake."
"I'll teach you." I offer.
She stares at me for a moment, probably realising that she just spoke out loud, "No, that's fine. I'm not that bothered about it."
"Well we're baking anyway. You can come with me to the store, I still need to buy some paint for the apartment anyway."
*****
"The fuck is this?" Rylyn gawks at the tin in her hands. After about ten minutes of shopping she's managed to find at least twenty things that she doesn't know the name of.
"That," I say, taking the tin out of her hands, "is a tin of corn beef, it is also something that we don't need and hopefully never will need."
She snatches the tin out of my hands, "I've never had this, can I try some?"
I tug it out of her hands and place it back on the shelf, "When you're ready to die, go ahead."
"Why, is it really bad?" She stares longingly after the corned beef as we walk further down the isle.
"Yes. Only old people eat it, and that's because they're dying anyway so it doesn't matter if they eat it." I pick up some more food and put it in the trolley. "Do you really have no idea what half of this food is?"
YOU ARE READING
Aberrant
ФэнтезиAsha (Trula) is being stalked, or at least she thinks she is. For the past few months her life has been full of paranoia and doubt of her sanity; when a good looking yet nervous wreck of a guy turns up at her school she discovers things she never kn...