Part 4
I awoke to the hammering sounds of some sort of weapon, and immediately froze in my tracks. It was coming from inside the walls, and I couldn't figure out where to hide...god forbid if the SP's would find me again. Suddenly, the blond from hours ago, Meat, popped her head into the room and briefly smiled at me.
"What was that?" I asked nervously.
"Bob and the rest of us were testing out some tools. For fixin' and stuff," she answered. Meat then entered the room and placed some articles of clothing on the mattress.
"They should be your size. We got some other stuff in the back if it doesn't suit you."
I shrugged and stared down at what was placed in front of me: a tan, tight-fitting blazer without the sleeves, ripped jeans with lace and patches down on each side, a sash, purple wrist bands and some shoes that laced up to the knee.
"Combat boots. It's a must have among us crazies," she replied.
"I don't think you're crazy," I said.
Meat laughed and said, "Only an expression. We found that phrase from text that was used in the early two thousands..."
"What's a text?"
She rolled her eyes and replied, "You gotta lot to learn, girlie. I'm not just sayin' it to be mean. I'm really dead serious 'bout it."
Meat explained to me that the texts were like the e-mails we read online, but you could read the words in ink and on paper. They were in temporary storage until the repairs were done, but I could look at them whenever I needed to.
Hours later, I checked my new Bohemian identity in a cracked mirror, and actually liked how I looked. Everything did fit, and I couldn't believe how great my hair looked when it wasn't pulled back tightly in a braid. One girl, I think it was Cheeky, wanted to dye my hair, but I only opted for these silver hair clip things called extensions, which looked like highlights but with a small clip. I was about to put on some make-up when the other girl, Scaramouche, came in with a stern look on her face.
"So you're Gaz's sister?" She asked.
"Um...yeah," I replied nervously.
"He never said anythin' 'bout you to any of us."
I shrugged and said, "Maybe he just forgot."
"Maybe. But I just hope you're not pullin' anything."
I looked back at her as she continued to glare at me. Before I could say anything else, she angrily got up to my face.
"If I hear that you are lyin' and you hurt my boyfriend's guts...I'll do the same. Except it'll be worse."
"Why're you threatening me?" I whispered nervously.
"Oh it's not a threat. Consider it a warnin'. That's all."
I glared back at Scaramouche and replied, "I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but I'm not a liar...or a fake. I'm just like everyone else here: misunderstood, confused, and wanting refuge. You, on the other hand, should adjust your snippy attitude before it gets worse."
Scaramouche stopped and nodded, letting my words sink into her skull. All I was doing was making a point, whether she understood that or not. Before she could walk out, she glanced back at me and replied, "I'm watching you. Remember that."
I nodded and looked down, listening to her footsteps as she walked out. I didn't know whether to cry or scream back at her, but I just couldn't believe that I might be hated and misjudged all over again.
(To be continued...)
