Chapter 7: Reminder
A light tapping at my window wakes me and I sit up. I rub my eyes, my arms seem to move slower than normal. I look over and a dark shadowy figure stands outside the window, patiently waiting for me to come over. I peer through the foggy glass, but I can't make out the face, it's dark and blurry. Hesitantly, I open the window, slightly. Stubby fingers of a man come through the small opening and he pushes it all the way open. I stumble backwards in surprise and panic. I reach to close the window but he's already started to climb through.
Before I can turn around and run, I'm pushed to the floor. He flips me over on my back, dripping with blood from his neck. He begins to scream in my ear. Slowly, hit lifts his hand up then drives it down, hitting me across the left temple. Disoriented, I kick him off and attempt to get to my feet when he pulls me down again. I scream as loud as my lungs will allow me.
"Remy!" The soothing voice echoes through my room, "Remy!"
I wake to Gabe holding me tightly, "I can't ignore it, anymore, Gabe. I can't ignore the fact that I killed someone."
"I know," He runs his fingers through my hair, "And I regret that you have to carry that burden, I really do… I'm so sorry!"
My stomach turns slowly. I push him away and jump off my bed, heading for the bathroom. I make it to the toilet just before I vomit. I sit there a moment before I flush and clean myself up. My Nana appears in the doorway behind her is Gabe.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" She asks.
I nod, violently brushing my teeth.
"You need a vacation," Nana begins to rub my back.
I spit, "No, I can't leave Max here to take care of you all by himself."
"I'll be fine Rem," He mutters, leaning against the doorframe, "I'm not a twelve year old baby anymore."
The boy I once knew who would throw a fit if his curly, sandy blonde hair was shorter than his ears now has it cut short and spiked with gel. His hazel eyes are bright now that the bangs, that would cast a small shadow across his face, are gone.
Shocked, I say, "I never called you a baby, Max…"
"I know," He stands up straight, "I can take care of Nana."
I look at Gabe and he shrugs.
As usual, my goodbyes are short, but I fill them with "I love you's" and "be careful" or "I'll miss you". In return, my Nana usually tries to keep me a little longer than my comfort will allow, but Max keeps it to a minimum of two sentences.
At last minute, Gabe arranges for us and his two brothers to go camping and after securing my bag to the back, we take off, "Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes!" I reassure him, again.
Of course, I let Joe know, and he didn't mind, but it makes me uneasy to miss work, even with how laid back he is, "Just make sure you come back," He says to me.
On our ride to Gabe's house, I think about my nightmare. I'm going to guess that maybe it's because we just hit the half-way mark yesterday. Six months from the last Purge and six to the next. I don't like thinking of having to go out to Purge. I don't like thinking of leaving Nana and Max alone for so long with lunatics out to wreak havoc just because they can. The Purge was an unsettling concept that the government approved, and here we are. The rich are protected by a high-tech protection system and us poor people are left to fend for ourselves.
The unemployment rate may be down to the 1%, and the government boasts as if they have figured out the secret of economics, but they don't tell you the Purge death rates and they certainly never connect the two. We have jobs… because the last guy who had it was killed in during The Annual Purge.
Before long, I notice we've entered into a wealthier neighborhood. Most homes here are gated. We pull into a driveway but we're stopped by a gate, "Hold a moment," He gets off the bike and goes over to a small black box. After pushing in a code, the gate opens and he gets back on the bike, "Remember when I told you my parents both died during a Purge?"
I nod.
"Well, we each inherited a part of their wealth," He creeps up the long windy and curvy driveway.
My face gets warm, "You guys are rich?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Even after three months of us, kind of, dating, I don't know almost anything about his home or family life. I had briefly met his brothers when they all had stopped by at the diner, but I had no idea that they were rich.
"I didn't want you to think differently of me," He gets even slower, almost pushing the bike with his legs.
"So you make me think that you're poor too?"
He finally stops and turns to me, "No, it wasn't like that at all. I just didn't want you to judge me for being rich."
I glare at him, "Why would you think I would judge you?" Before he has time to answer I cut him off, "Why, with being rich, would you risk your life to steal pills when you could safely just pay for them any other time of the year?"
"Because that's called drug dealing and I'm not into that crowd," He sighs, "I didn't want to chance you not talking to me anymore…"
"None of your reasons make any sense. I haven't given you a reason to think any of those things…" I catch myself digging my nails into the leather seat.
He resumes up the driveway, more quickly now, "Please, just imagine how that would look… or better yet why that would scare me."
I do, I try. I put myself in his position. Thinking back, I'm the person who asks for help and he comes to help me. I carry him back to this old house, that might as well be a boarded up shack, and his lovely family takes me in for the rest of the night. Is the first thing I would want him to know that I was rich…? Probably not. He's already admitted to me that he was addicted to pills, it probably would have changed my view of him, like it just now had, if I knew he was rich. What was it any of my business why he got addicted to pills? Why he was risking his life for it?
"I'm sorry…" I say, quietly, "Wealth status doesn't matter in the world of the Purge…"
He smiles.
Of course, that statement had a bit of truth to it. You wouldn't be able to tell a poor person from a rich person during the Purge. A dead body is a dead body, what they're leaving behind, whether it be family or friends, doesn't matter; they already have to fend for themselves.
A large house appears around a corner. Beautiful tall pillars covered in ivy vines frame the front of the house. A three bay garage is the first extension of the house. Even from a distance away, I can see that the windows are bared, but in an intricate design of swirls and curves. The front door is wooden, holding the same design. We enter into the garage where two other cars sit. I'm not a big car fanatic, but if I were, I'm sure I'd be more impressed than I already am. Not to mention the neatly sorted tools.
"I don't think I've seen an organized garage before, ever," I say, getting off of the bike.
Gabe chuckles, "Yeah, I can't work in a hectic space. Not here, not at work."
I bite my lip for a moment, but can't help but ask, "Why do you work as a mechanic anyways?"
He shrugs, "I'm good at it and I don't like being lazy."
I nod, "That's a good reason."
I start to get my bag when he stops me, "Leave it, I'll get it."
He leads me up four steps and in through a door that opens into a small mud room. This room is even neat with coat and shoe racks, "Are you sure three guys live here?"
He bursts out in laughter, "Don't give us any credit, a maid comes once a day to clean the place."
"That makes sense."
The mud room leads into a beautiful stainless steel kitchen with black marble covering the floors and countertops. In the middle of the kitchen is an island long enough to seat four chairs. Across the kitchen is the dining room with cherry wood and a chandelier above the table.
"The living room is down here," He points at an opening where steps lead down into a tan-white carpet, "Here the bathroom," The bathroom sits between the kitchen and dining room, "Down that hallway is my room and that door in the hallway leads down into the basement and up the stairs. It's an odd house, but it works."
"If I could choose to live anywhere, it would be here," I say, mesmerized by the design.
Gabe laughs, "I'm glad you like it."
I nod, "I do, I like it."
"Is that Remy?" A voice comes from the living room.
"Yeah," Gabe calls back, "She's going to stay here for a bit."
I look at him, "We're not going camping?"
"Nope, I thought it would be nice for you to live in a nice house for a while," He grins.
"Why do you always surprise me like this?" I sigh.
I didn't want to show him that I was actually excited. The house is beautiful and while I'm here, they won't have to worry about paying a maid. I cook and clean, no big deal, it's the least I can do for them letting me stay.
I follow Gabe back through the hallway he said his room in. Wooden doors, similar to the front door, are scattered about. He stops at the one at the end of the hallways and opens it. The room is about the size of my house, but it is separated with two levels connected with stairs. On the top level is his bed covered with blue sheets and at the bottom is a long black couch facing a large TV with multiple gaming systems placed inside a cabinet. Tool boxes are stacked on each side of the couch to be used for end tables.
"This is so… you," I say.
He chuckles, "Thank you."
"The couch is comfortable, right?" I ask, starting down to try it out.
"Yeah, I watch movies all the time and my ass never gets sore."
I laugh, "Good because I need a break from my mattress. That thing is about as old as I am."
"Oh, no. You're not sleeping on the couch, you're sleeping in my bed," He turns me around to direct me towards the large bed.
"Wait, so where are you going to sleep?"
"The couch," He sighs, pushing me towards the bed.
First I test it with my hand and then I sit. I've never experienced anything more comfortable. Hesitantly I lay down, sinking into the comforters, "I'm not sure it's a good idea I stay here."
"Why is that?"
"I don't know if I'll want to leave," I joke.
He laughs, "That's okay, you can come over anytime you want."
(Let me know what ya'll think so far. :)
