Disclaimer: I don't own. The idea popped into my head when I was babysitting. I thought it would be a good idea. This time it is about Syl. Enjoy.
--
I am so excited to be leaving. Krit should be back at any minute with all the supply we will need to make it to New York City. Once there, we will find the next place to live. If we, excuse me, if I work my childish charm, even for a thirteen year old I am sure get us a home with an elderly lady who is practically blind anyways. We could earn some cash to buy food from selling her ceramic cat statues. Let's face it, she'll be old, and half blind so what will she do with them? They would just be sitting there collecting dust or in the dangerous line of being knocked down.
I want pizza. A few days ago we went to the pizza restaurant to try and cop a slice or two, but wound up getting nothing because of an accident. I saw a guy sitting down with a gun on his belt, and I wanted a little artillery with my dinner so I tried to cop the gun as well. Well, little girl and police agent don't mix. They suspected me as something along the lines of Manticore because I easily fought off the guy who tried to grab me. Krit, who managed to grab a box and sneak it slowly off the counter suddenly, had to drop it as we ran for our lives. Through the cold winter streets we tracked until we fitted under a fence that they could not. Trudging through the swamp we made it back home before old lady Lynn could question whether or not we were doing drugs again. So what if we did, it was none of her business anyways. Her glass vase covered the expense of our fun.
This is not the first time that we are going to a new home. We never stay in one place for quite that long. We have to be on the run all the time. One place to long and suspicions were raised. We best move to not risk anything. We have one rule though, which sucks to a major point; if there is a time set and one is not back, and then the next must move on with the plan and not wait. They may have been caught, and being together in the first place could jeopardize the other person.
Ripping the paper off a grocery notebook she folded the paper and put it in the pocket of her jeans and brought her knees to her chest. The winter air blew through the open window which was placed adjacent to the couch she was sitting on. The old lady long retired to her room, which was good to Syl. From days of not bathing, and out on late nights of fun her hair was filthy, which made it look a dirty, dirty blonde the lady wanted her to bath. If it was one thing it was that she didn't like baths. No shower head connected to the shower she felt that she didn't want to bathe in dirty water. She could get an infection, so she simply refused.
With a tangled mess of hair, a pretty white porcelain face and clothes that looked like they were picked out of a dumpster she gave the immediate impression of an orphan. Krit was the opposite. He loved to dress as if he was from the right side of the tracks. He was her polar opposite although they shared one thing in common, and that was the love of artillery. If it was a weapon then that was wrap. Right now in the coat of many holes she had a simple butter knife in one pocket, and a small gun in the other. The collection they collected of many "scavendered" items were tucked away in the backpack they bet a little boy was missing right about now.
The clock on the wall with a crack from a baseball accident read eleven o' clock on the dot. It was the time they were to move out. He was not back, and as much as it pained her, as much as the tears silently rain down her face, as much as she wished to stay on the smelly couch they made the promise of the rule, so she had to leave. Grabbing the items she was going to take she opened the window; habit, and was out into the night alone.
-
"Why are staring at her?" a girl with purple hair questioned the guy who sat atop the monkey bars on this dark, cold night. He passed the roach to her as he tilted his head to the side, and replied, "Look at her," he indicated to the blonde girl on the swing. She wasn't blinking, or moving for the matter.
"She's daydreaming," he said to the girl who almost fell off the small red painted bars.
"I just lost it," the girl shouts out of random.
"Hey, yo, miss," the girl on the monkey bars shouts to the girl on the swing.
Syl, the girl on the swing looked the woman.
"He stole it," she shouts pointing to the guy next to her.
Squinting her eyes she hoped off the swing and began walking away from the magnificent playground. If she was a child growing up in this neighborhood this place would be her second home. The park was a set scene of a castle. Walls around the slides, bridges and bars all gave the impression of a medieval castle. If she was playing with kids, once again, if growing up here she would be the princess.
The cold air blew the blonde mess of hair all around her face. Even after years, many bathtubs, and showers she still didn't enjoy taking showers. Maybe crawling in the dirt, or just having dirt cling to the skin never got old.
Her clothes did not get any better. They were still ragity and holey. An orange sweat shirt, a pair of jeans in a pre-pulse fashion, and combat boots completed her look. Her hair was long, but messy so it was never combed. Why get all fixed up when there was nobody to impress?
Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since that morning. The closest place, a small convient store was going to be her free meal ticket. Hiding behind the car on the corner of Dover and Wright she scanned the area to make sure there were no cops in the area. Perfect! Pulling the zipper down a quarter of the way she walked into the store as if she was an everyday customer. The inside was what made her mouth water every time. There were only eight aisles in the store, but they all displayed colorful assortments of junk food. Everything was not good for you, but very pleasing to the taste buds. She wasn't one for being a health food junky so she went to the last aisle from the door and sunk down to eye level with the aisle. She had to make sure the clerk at the register wasn't watching her, and he
wasn't. He was so wrapped up in a trash magazine she could have walked in butt naked and he would not have noticed.
Grabbing backs of chips she stuffed them into her coat. She fitted as much as she could put in and zipped it back up. Her bust may have looked better, but the clerk didn't see her walk in, so he probably wouldn't notice her walk out.
Swiping her hair a little out of her face the junky guy suddenly dropped his magazine.
"Hey you, you have to pay for that," he shouted bounding out a long nose gun from the counter.
She froze on spot and looked around. Police cruisers were arriving, so she thought of the one thing in the panic of her moment; her gun. Pulling it out of her jeans she aimed at the front glass window and it went shattering to many pieces giving her time. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Out onto the street past cars, people and garbage she kept to her speed. Everything just seemed to blur as she went past.
Surprisingly they were on her tail still. Looking over her shoulder she saw that they were not just any kind of people after her, but Lydecker people. Running from them was like a whole work out until she came upon a fence. A simple obstacle in her way she jumped through the air landing a little unbalanced, jacket spilling of her stolen goods. She was not in clear because she was greeted in a full on circle of his men.
Shit! She jumped into stance and took out two with a few punches to the first and a kick to the one behind her. It wasn't enough because two suddenly wiped out tasers and tased her. She was going down fast. This was it. They were going to capture her and return her to Lydecker.
The shocks through her system made her shake and fall upon the ground in a heap. More junk foods fell from her jacket. Some of the packages even busted open.
I can't go down like this. I am a soldier. She used are her will power to stand as best as her shaky legs would let her. Training will not be thrown down the DRAIN!!
She raised her leg and managed to take out another before someone jumped the fence and decided to help her out. She couldn't see who they were, matter fact, what they were. They were strong and quickly skilled. A turn in her direction he signed for her to head north. Whoever it was she felt an instant bond and took off as he continued to fight with a familiarity that she could not just put her finger on.
She took off heading north breaking the path with wasteful garbage cans in her wake to make them fall. She would've laughed if she was not to get out of there for her life. She ran, and ran until she could not take it anymore. Not the distance she would like to be from the situation, but quite the distance out of the way. Everything was quiet in the night, except for the night life which went on around her. The bugs buzzed, the cold winter winds swayed and the stars twinkled on this clear night.
She cannot return now. They knew she would be in the area. She was careful. How could this happen all the time? She must have been doing something wrong. The boarding house she resided in, she was a very quiet person and the only time she went out was at night. The people instantly thought she either had a very weird night job, like a gravedigger, or even a whore. The reason why they thought of this was because she returned early in the mornings completely dirty and tired. Sometimes she slept all day.
Running she managed to the outskirts miles away and trudged through the swampy waters of a swamp she hadn't seen before. The water was very dirty and mug sucked in her boots and she trudged causing her to catch her balance once or twice. And, every time she stepped the water and mud swooped up and caught in her hair and in her clothes as well. She would definitely have to take a nice long bath tonight, and find some clothes. Everything about it sucked. She smelled really bad and hoped she could find shelter. Not being able to return to temporary home just pissed her off, and she had nobody else to blame except herself.
Making it across the two feet of water she was glad to see a partial wooded area and took refuge under a tree. Plopping right into the dirt there was no use in staying clean. It was time to see what she would be eating for the night; what made it through her little, terrible, poorly planned get away. Unzipping her coat she was disappointed to see that only one bag of chips has made it through the whole ordeal. To top off that, it was smashed and every chip was in crumb form.
She sat there silently for a while just looking around at the swamp. The place hid beauty that must've once been before the pulse. Now it was just a wasteland; a wasteland that wasn't even be able to supple her with any food. She could eat out of a house or home, so this just bit the cake.
Damn it," she exclaimed aloud, "I'm going to end up eating spawn. I'm not even close enough to a fuckin garbage can."
"I better not hear you talking like that again," a voice spoke through the dark.
Alert! She stood and took a fighting stance. She may be hungry, but she could still kick ass. Arms up she looked to see the appearance of the person who had come to her rescue. They couldn't be all that too bad, but you should never let your guard down. Anyone can have the snap of a mood in one quick moment.
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.
"Zack," he pulls down his hood to reveal a scuffle of dirty blonde hair and the same familiar face he had when he was nine. He didn't change and at the exact moment he looked as mad as ever; hardly ever cracking a smile.
Shocked, she put it. He made it, which was a relief, but why was he here? Had he been watching her the whole time? No matter, she got up and went over to him and put her arms around him in an embrace. He lightly embraced back because she was so dirty. He on the other hand was fairly clean.
She pulled back and asked him why he was there.
"To get you out. Where you lived, you are not going back," he replied.
""You act like I don't know that," she sneered going back over to her spot and parking it. The bag with the crumbs in hand, she looked out to the murky waters and began to stuff the crumbs hungrily in her mouth.
He was acting like she was a child. She could handle herself. She did this a thousand times before, not that she wanted to brag about them. Here he was and now he wanted to take control of her situation. Whatever, she'd go along with it for now. He must have a better motive for this.
"Let's go," he said putting his hood back on, and stuffing his hands into his sleeves, then his pockets.
"You think I would've left already if I had my wheels. I'll get one and be out by morning," she watched as he looked around. This gave her a precaution as well, only when she looked around she didn't see anything. He must be really, really, really paranoid.
"You're going with me," he said casually once again looking around. Did he expect someone to be watching them with a giant microphone? Why would he think she could compile so easily? Did he think he was still CO? She had news for him buddy, he wasn't.
"You and what army," lamely she laughed at her own joke pun. He used to be CO, and his army was, well, them.
Zack went right over to her and knelt down. Even through the dark, and the dark of his hoody she could see his face, and how he was not very pleased with her at the moment.
"I don't like this attitude of yours," he spoke so like the old lady did when she was yelling at Krit and her when they made a complete mess of the kitchen. She was so angry her blood pressure rose. The worse thing about that was that they never got to eat the macaroni and cheese they so called made.
This situation wasn't funny though. He could not be easily persuaded, and she knew that by experience. She wasn't a child anymore. Seven years later she was still alive. He would have to realize this. She wondered if anyone else crossed paths with him, and if so how did they deal?
"I seem to handle just fine," she snapped back. Eyes fierce she did not blink, and it seemed that either breathed. If this was an act of the brave fool then this was it.
"You were almost caught, soldier," the last word alone made her shiver. Did he not realize that they weren't at Manticore anymore? Maybe he was? Maybe he was back at Manticore, and now he was here to turn her in.
"But I'm here in this swamp as you can see."
"Yes, I am obvious to where we are, but you know this is not the first time. Ever since Krit-"
"Don't," she interrupted. She knew that he had defeated her. He brought out the Krit card, and that was it. She blamed herself for him not coming back. She only held him up, and wasn't any good except when she wheeled a weapon, which a weapon sometimes made the situation worse.
Syl stood up defeated. He nodded the silent agreement. He began to walk. She put on her hood and followed through the swamp, and the long way to where his nice four wheel drive was parked.
Now she knew he was here way to long. He knew his way around perfectly, and didn't have to second guess himself.
Once in the car she made no point to take the care and prevent most of the elements from getting all over the seat and dashboard.
He pulled off his hood and she kept hers on. The wind picked up when they were walking, and she knew her cheeks were chapped, but that was not the reason. Who would care if she had pink cheeks? The true reason as because he got to her, and she knew that it was in her eyes and with the voidness of her face. He would just love to burn her with the third degree. Right now she just wanted to be in her own little world, and he wasn't invited.
-
A while later he asked, "Do you want to know where we are going?"
She shook her head no. Laying her head against the window and watched as the highway never ended, and she thought of Krit. They were supposed to be together. They were a team, but one day he opted and left. He never returned, and the troublesome question was 'Why'?
For the both of them Zack put the heat on. The warmth, the motion of the car and the dark beat out the way she felt, the smell, and the headache she was starting to have and she fell asleep.
-
Pulling up a while later he turned off the car and turned to her.
"Come on," he shoved her shoulder roughly and they made their way to the house that was just like the environment they were in before; in the middle of a swamp only there was no water and the mud was dry.
The house was not surprising to her that it was messy, but the edge made her question whether he was the only one that lived here. Two rooms, besides the bathroom made the place feel smaller than it was. The other room, besides the one they were standing it was the kitchen. It's rather decent. There actually appeared to be food and a stove.
The room they stood in must've been a cross between the bedroom and the living room. There was a bed, a king one at that, and it was not made that morning, or ever, because the sheets were ruffled. The pink and yellow knitted blankets lay in a heap at the end of the bed. The dresser was right
behind the bed; against the headboard. On there was two bottles of Tryptophan, and lamp, and whole bunch of broken junk such as broken jewelry, a broken game, and an assortment of sewing needles and screws. On the floor, a whole bunch of clothes were scattered, and a few newspapers. A television on a crate almost finished the picture. The best part of all had to be the beautiful fireplace which Zack lit.
"You can take a shower, and sleep. In a few hours we'll be ready to leave for Michigan. I have a place for you there."
From reading a small book she dropped it and headed toward the bathroom. On the way she mumbled, "Yeah, what am I supposed to walk around naked?" She didn't wait for his reply, but behind the closed door she could hear him say, "There are fresh clothes in the bathroom."
-
The shower was nice. Stepping out she wrapped herself in one of the two only towels in the room. Wiping half the mirror she was able to see herself. Fresh and clean was what she felt, but something more. She felt beautiful. She didn't need cosmetics and or fancy clothes and hair. It was just the way she was made. Manticore wouldn't've made anyone unless they were a looker. If they were to be sent on missions then they would need beauty and seduction, because no one wanted someone without sex appeal. Those kinds of shallow bastards would never see what they had coming to them.
The steam that she didn't wipe off soon became the equivalent of a wall waiting to be tagged. She wrote with her finger, X5-701, and underneath she drew a little heart.
-
He wasn't lying when he said there were clothes in there for her. He must've really known that she was coming here and had the clothes ready. Were these his girlfriends? Ha, if he ever had a girlfriend. The clothes are nice, though. A dark pair of jeans, with quite a few rips looked like they could pass off as an old style. A large t-shirt was in yellow, her favorite color, and a black jacket set in faux fur (winter jacket), was what finished the clothes. They were warm, but the jacket was a little tight.
Trying her best to get the picture out of her head about Zack and a girl she found a hairbrush under the sink and brushed her hair. Wet still from the shower it dripped down her back, but became tangle free. It was getting to long, and as best as she searched she could not find any scissors.
The towel on the ground she opened the door to the fairly lit rooms. The fireplace was almost making this place comfortable; almost. It was not hard to spot Zack. Zack stood at the counter drinking something from a large, plastic cup. When he spotted her he asked her if she wanted anything.
"No!" she snapped, but her stomach objected. How embarrassing.
Setting the cup on the counter he strolled right up to her. Right in front of her she shifted her weight on her feet.
Looking down at her he had the air of big brother. Strong, angry, and bitter, his eyebrows knitted together, and his mouth shaped into a disappointing frown. He folded his arms and looked at her looking for a straight answer.
"Is there a problem between us?"
"I have too many problems," she replied not at the serious level that he was on.
He nodded his head once, and said, "Yeah, you do. Do you actually want to get caught again? Do you actually want to go back to Manticore and live that life!?" He yelled at her loud as hell. Weren't they supposed to be quiet? He was very paranoid, but at this moment did he not care? If he didn't care then she didn't care.
"Yes Zack, that's all I want," she clenched her fists at her sides keeping herself in check as best she could.
He looked interested, but not acting as she continued.
"At least I had a bed, meals every day, and an environment. I didn't have to run, sleep in parks, eat of out a fuckin garbage can and be alone," she paused looked away a moment, then back to him. "I can't take this anymore. I can't talk to anyone, I can't work, and even if I wanted to go to school I can't. I make one mistake, and my ass is-"
He finished her little rant for her, "Hauled back. You just made yourself a hypocrite." Now it was his time to talk back. Roughly he grabbed her upper arms digging his fingers in. She didn't move, but was so tempted to kick his ass.
"On the night of the escape I took all your lives into my hands. I didn't want the freedom, but the freedom for all of us. I thought we would have a better life. You are the only one not appreciative of this, so here's the deal; if you don't want my help get your ass out of here. If you want to go back be my guest. If you don't, then don't say shit for the rest of the night." He walked away and a few minutes later the shower turned on.
"Asshole," she mumbled to herself going to the counter. Whatever he was drinking was left on the counter and hers for the taking. She picked it up, sniffed it, and then downed it. If there was one thing good about him it was that he had a great taste in drink.
The fridge was next. Damn, he ate everything. She had to settle on eating half a bar of cheese. Only at the end did she notice it was moldy. That went into the garbage, and she went to the other room because there was nothing else left in the fridge.
Plopping down onto the bed she dropped her arm so it hung off the bed, and the other arm went under the pillow. Bingo! Sitting up and moving the pillow aside she found a nice piece underneath.
Damn and all my shit is at my home. I'll never see any of it again. She put the gun back under the pillow and laid down again, this time on her back and closed her eyes.
Michigan; another new home. Maybe it will be different there. Maybe this time I'll stay out of trouble and be the quiet little church mouse that Zack wants me to be.
She was asleep by the time Zack exited the bathroom and walked into the living room. He took a seat on the floor where she laid asleep and ran a hand through it wet hair.
The spray from his hair flung right onto her and she woke up and turned her head to get the view of the back of his head. Quietly she watched as he got up and walked back and forth throughout the room, looking out the window occasionally. He was officially over-boarded paranoid. She laid there pretending sleep until he came over and lay to the side of her. He also laid on his back.
Hmmmm, the best time to ask him now, she thought as she sat up on her side facing him. She questioned, "Whose house is this?"
Zack opened his eyes and side looked in her direction, "Brin."
"You didn't tell me you knew where she lived," suddenly it was as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders. So this was Brin's house. Her instinct was right in saying that it had a woman's touch added to the picture. It was time she met another who escaped, and was actually female. It wasn't on the top of her list; on her list at all to talk to Zack about some problems she had to deal with.
"I plan to keep it that way," he turned away from her until he was on his stomach, and facing the wall.
What? How could he keep something like this from her? That was a member of her family that she could counter and he wanted to keep her away.
"Oh, so you don't want me to see my family?"
"Nobody is together," he said, "And don't think you are going to stay here and wait for her to return. I made her leave."
Damn it! What an asshole.
"I forgot," she replied with anguish grabbing a blanket to lay at the foot of the bed, "Everybody split up." She mumbled off a few more things before falling asleep about Krit, and guns and mumble-jumble.
He had to no idea what half the things were, but he sat up and put an extra blanket on her.
-
-
The morning arrived with a bright start. The early morning sun shined right through the edges of the shades where space met window frame casting the room in warm light. The sun was so bright Syl instantly woke up. Her internal alarm clock went off at five in the morning, every morning.
Sitting up she saw that she had taken her coat off in the middle of the night, and now it was on the floor. To the left of her Zack still laid asleep with a shocking aspect; he looked so calm. If she had a camera she would take a picture, but who was she to kid to ever have enough money to even properly feed her every day. So, she did the next best thing, and embedded the image into her head just watching him sleep because once he was awake it was back to angry, soldier mode. She returned the favor of his last night, and she put the extra, pink blanket on him and lightly stepped out of bed.
Bringing her arms over her head and standing on her toes she pulled until she felt a nice releasing stretch. Stretching her neck to the side she wondered for some random reason where she left her boots until her eyes spotted them by the front door next to sleeping CO's.
Stomach growling to full extent she hated to admit that she was starting to feel nauseas. The kitchen must have something besides the scarce items that were in the fridge.
The counter; she found a bag of pretzels. They were a little bit stale, but they were going to do while she sat down in front of the television set at the end of the bed. Might as well enjoy her peaceful time of the day, and what not better way than to watch the only channel that came in, a cartoon, and eat a stale bag of pretzels. She dare not look at the expiration date in the fear that they may be so far along.
Almost along with the show, and half a bag of pretzels she wished she was at her ex-current home. At least by now after a long night out she could play with her "toys" before she slept. All her "toys" would soon become government property.
A poke in the back she turned to see that Zack was awake, and with herself turned he took the bag of pretzels against her pleads.
"How long have you been awake?" she questioned turning back to the television not exactly paying attention to it.
"Since your feet touched the ground," he replied reaching his hand in and pulling some out to stuff in his mouth.
"But you-"
"Nah, but we are leaving at seven," he said sitting up.
"Whoo," he watched the cartoon for a few minutes with her before he got up officially and went outside.
-
At seven was ready to go. The clothes she wore through the swamp were left there lying on the bathroom floor; only the gun was taken and placed carefully. The clothes she wore currently having guessed they were Brin's were completed with the replacement of the jacket. The gun under the pillow was taken by Zack; which she really wanted.
Watching him walk around and break everything was a great show and a questionable one. Why was he doing it? Was he trying to make it look like a crime scene, or a getaway of a sort?
"Clean getaway," she questioned.
"Yeah," he picked up the lamp from the dresser behind the bed and slammed it hard into the ground. He stepped a few feet away from the broken lamp, and moved the wire with his foot.
"A hasty one at that unlike you who writes on mirrors. Do you actually think that's a smart move?" he questioned. Here we go CO mode again. Maybe if I didn't drink the rest of his drink yesterday he would be mellow today.
Sarcastically she replied, "I want to be remembered here."
"Well, that's a dumb move. You never leave a trail. No wonder Krit left-"
"What do you know that I don't?" Now that he said it he was caught. He knew the real reason why Krit left.
He turned away, "Let's go."
"Right, right," she nodded heading to the door to avoid confrontations. "Leave it the CO to cover things up."
Whatever he was bringing was stuffed into a duffle bag, and they soon found themselves on the road again. The drive stood quiet while she stayed in her thoughts.
Recalling the conversation she felt more down on herself than before.
Everybody knows something that I don't. Even Zack knows more about my situation than I do, and he's no help. Jerk face is a closed book. Damn, I know that we are at a run for our lives, the least we could do is hold onto the things that we hold dear. I want something I know'll never get, but I can at least hope, and try and hold on.
In her daze she cleared her nose causing the attention of him. He looked shock which changed her emotions to anger. She was mad because she was showing weakness, and in front of him at worst. The anger built up so much that she suddenly heard ringing in her head.
Wait! That's Zack's phone ringing.
Picking up the phone he didn't wait for any greeting. Instead he said, "This better be important."
Whoever was on the other line must've liked to talk. He listened half-heartedly.
"No," he said firmly. He looked at her from the corner of his eye.
"What!?" There goes that attitude again. She could not help it. She wasn't mad at him, she was really mad at herself. Her training wasn't being used to the best of her ability, and she was making
herself a very easy target. If he hadn't been there then she might've not even been here now. She wasn't very good. Even at the best of her abilities she was somewhat of a klutz, and a potential risk of exposure. She was placed in the back.
Maybe one day she'll find out that she wasn't alone. Maybe one of the others at this young age was suffering the very same fate that she was working through. Maybe one of them was leaving their home just as she was right now. Maybe they had something, or something's that they had to leave behind. For instance Zane could be collecting cars. He'd like to put them together, and fix things. Maybe he even built them up from scratch. She'd buy one of his cars, even if she didn't have a license. She drove a lot up in Maine where she lived.
Maine was beautiful. The air was so fresh and clean. The lady who took them in up in Maine had a nice array of ceramic cats that soon became a nice chunk of change in her pocket. The lady was old and mostly blind anyways. She would die soon, so what would be the point of having them there to collect dust. Some other unfortunate soul could have the ugly pieces held up in their living room.
"What are you thinking about," he suddenly questioned.
"Nothing Zack," she pulled up are the sarcasm she could muster up.
"It must've been something really good because I've been calling your name a few times, and you didn't even blink."
"I'm hungry," she said as a way to chase the curiosity away. She didn't want to tell him about her thoughts.
He nodded his head in agreement. Not long after they pulled up to a runned down diner and sat down at a two person table. The waitress came up and took their order. Money was no object because Zack was paying for it with eh simple money of a not hard day's work. It was stolen, and she couldn't complain because she did the same thing. It was a contest between the two of them when they wanted to get high.
Why did she have to always think about him?
The food came along with a very astonished waitress. She was probably shocked at the amount of food the two of them were going to eat. The two between them ordered pancakes, toast, sausage, bacon and a pitcher of milk. The milk was essential since she didn't have any Tryptophan. Two bottles were under her couch which would just probably get thrown out.
They ate in silence. Just the clamor of utensil and chewing emitted. No words needed to be said when they had empty stomachs that needed to be filled.
Putting her fork down a second she looked around noticing one person in particular. Around her age, a girl with dark hair sat by the window with a cup of milk in her hands. Her eyes didn't break even when Syl sneered at the girl. The girl only looked away to look down at her cup.
Whatever. She went back to her breakfast. Zack finished so he just sat there as she continued to eat.
Looking at the girl again she noticed that she was once again staring. Damn. Was there something on her face? She made a face then looked at Zack.
"What's wrong," he questioned.
"The girl behind you, to the back keeps looking at me, and not just looking, but staring," she whispered a loud.
Zack took a glance over his shoulder and the girl tilted her head toward the window, and then played off as if she was still drinking from an empty cup.
"Why don't you go use the bathroom before we go," he narrowed his expression silently telling her they had to leave fast.
"Alright, alright," she whined. She grabbed a piece of bacon and ate it along the way.
After actually using the bathroom she poured the soap on her hands and began washing. A small tremor emitted some shakes. Nobody was in the bathroom, which was a good thing. She didn't have any Tryptophan, and she didn't know if Zack had any. Plus, he was so far away, and the bottles that were back at the house.
"Shit," she cursed as they increased. She backed up against the wall and slid down holding herself as she tried to gain enough control to make it to Zack's stolen car.
Had this part down on my computer for a while now. Tell me if I should continue. Thanks.