Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead
Among The Bodies: Interesting
The barrel of the gun was still pressed firmly against my head as I assessed the situation. Aaron was bleeding out in the corner, a stranger was holding a weapon to my forehead, speaking a language that only translated as nonsense to me, and I was a sitting duck. I've had better days.
I glared at the man from below, unable to see any facial expression due to his mask adorning his face. I gulped. Communication was key, and it was hard enough as it was with Aaron. But this was another human, with a working voice to speak with and functional mind, as far as I'm concerned.
So far, I was not making a good impression, and neither was he. It was still in the room before the man decided to speak. "Les civils ne sont pas autorisés ici." He muttered his voice monotone. My tongue throbbed slightly, I ignored it.
I stole a glimpse towards Aaron. The hunter was slumped against the wall, no longer clutching his wound. The hat shielded his eyes, and there was a disturbing lack of chest movements to indicate breathing. Blood dripped from his clothing, creating a small pool around him. I could see my reflection in its gloss. He wasn't dead, was he?
No, he couldn't be. He's suffered worse. Hell, he's taken five punctures to the abdomen and he turned out fine. If he could survive getting stabbed multiple times, what would a little bullet do? I took another glance, spotting a small, copper bullet lying on the carpeted floor. He had pulled it out.
The pressure on my skin and the glint of metal turned my attention back to my attacker. He glared at me behind the mask, making him unreadable. In an attempt to communicate, I chose to speak. "Listen, I have no idea what you just said." Ok, maybe not the best sentence to start off with, but it was the blunt truth.
I shifted, hoping he wouldn't see the guns peeking out of my pockets, or the knife hidden away. It was still in the room, each of us sharing glares. "Vous n'êtes pas un civil. Vous portez l'uniforme d'un officier." He muttered, slightly muffled behind his mask. I raised a brow in reflex, noticing the slight head movements he was making. Somewhere in the nonsense, I heard the word officer. He was talking about my uniform.
It's times like these where I wish I hadn't of flunked out of those foreign language classes.
The screen nearby lit up, and small speakers near it began beeping. I winced at the sudden sound, and for once I saw the stranger move, glancing towards the screen. Words flashed across the screen in blue and white, snatching his attention.
Suddenly, the gun was pulled away and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. A hand came into view and the man waited patiently for me to take it. I stared at his outstretched palm, shocked. I had no clue of his intentions, so offending him wouldn't do me any good. Slowly, I was pulled to my feet.
His weapon was shoved in a holster and he turned his back to me, turning switches and buttons on the table. It was like I had become invisible. I stood still, unsure of what to do. Copper caught my eye, the bullet lying a few feet away.
The man was busying himself with lit up buttons. I watched him for a few seconds, before running over and kneeling down beside Aaron. I nudged the hunter, searching for any sign of movement or life. He didn't respond, and I was beginning to panic. In a moment of terror, I touched his shoulder. The special infected jerked to the contact and hissed. A small part of me felt guilty, but relief overlapped this.
There was noise shuffling behind me and the beeping stopped, the familiar click of a gun was brought to my attention once more. Why didn't I run when I had the chance? "Vous devez lui laisser mourir." The stranger commented. It was then I noticed that the gun wasn't pointed at me, but Aaron instead. "N'avez-vous pas d'accord, Kilo?"
He wasn't watching me, more focused on Aaron than anything. In a moment of quick thinking, I reached inside my pockets and pulled out each gun, aiming for the neck. "Don't hurt him" I threatened. The man seemed to glance over to me, and I kept a tough face. He hesitated for a moment. "Je crains que je ne connais pas votre nom."
I raised a brow, and he finally seemed to take the hint. "I believe we have not properly introduced each other." His voice carried a heavy French accent, with short vowels and his h's pronounced silent. Not sure how to respond, partly from barley understanding him anyway, I stood still. It was another tense minute before he spoke again.
"I am Philippe, and you are?"
His tone was cold and professional, but the way he worded his sentences were as if he was trying to be friendly. This only put me on edge a bit more, seeing where the last time being friendly had gotten me. Besides, I recognized his name from the list of criminals. He had plenty of reasons to be wary of him: violence, murder, even deemed mentally unstable. If people like Tanya were considered 'normal' here, then who knows what he's done to be seen as a murderer. Just what exactly was I up against?
My tongue throbbed. "My name isn't important." Giving him my name would be a bad idea. The only way Paradise would know about me is if Olive or Doug have spilled the beans, or maybe Theron had somehow gotten here before I had. No doubt there'd be a bounty on my head if what I've done was exposed to the public. But they weren't aware of me just yet, and I planned it keep it that way. For now, at least.
The French man turned his head slightly, not looking at me nor Aaron. "Soyez tranquille, Kilo. Elle a rien fait encore." His sentence was muffled from the mask, and the volume he muttering in was low, but even if I could make out the words, I wouldn't have been able to understand them anyway.
A growl came from Aarons chest, and I noted that Philippe still had his gun pointed for him. I needed to think of an escape plan, and fast. I was treading on thin ice here. "And ze hunter?" He asked, gesturing towards the infected. As if to answer him, Aaron hissed. "He doesn't have one." I lied, keeping a calm demeanor. Philippe thought for a moment. Through the window, I could see the sun had dipped lower in the sky.
"A man with no name is not a man at all." Philippe stated. "If he has no name, zan he is of no use to you." It took me a second to process before I saw the twitch of his trigger finger. My mouth panicked before my mind could respond.
"Wait," I stammered. "I gave him a name, he's my responsibility." I confessed, and Philippe's hand lowered slightly. "Your responsibility?" He pondered. Both of my weapons were still raised, but so was his. The thought of shooting him and bolting flew into my head, but left as quickly as it had came. It was tempting, but it would attract too much noise. Besides, that armor he's wearing is probably strong enough to take a few bullets anyway.
"Yes," I answered, stealing a glance towards the hunter. "I'm his…tamer, you see." Lying was becoming easier and easier with every word. Philippe's head tilted down ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had grinned, hidden behind the mask. "You are a terrible liar, mademoiselle." He commented. "It is obvious you are not a Tamer, nor his owner." I grit my teeth. If we get out of here, I was going to have to practice my lying skills.
"How did you know?" I questioned. Beside us, Aaron made an pained noise and my heart ached. He needed medical attention, and soon. "Tamer's brand their merchandise, with certain symbols, or amputate a body part to show that they have been disciplined, you see." He motioned towards Aaron. "I do not see a branding, nor does he seem to be missing a limb."
A small amount of bile rose in my throat, but I quickly shot it back down. An image of the smoker I had seen on the street appeared and I remembered it's missing tumors, how underfed it looked and how miserable it seemed. Who would do that to another human being? Or at least, someone who was once human.
My grip tightened. "That's…" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "Horrible." Surprisingly, he nodded, agreeing with my opinion. "The world is filled with monstrosities now," He replied. "And I do not speak of the infected." Olive had said something similar that last time I saw her. I couldn't help but think of how right she was.
Suddenly, Aaron stood up, clutching the wall for support. I wanted to rush over and lend him my shoulder, but I had a feeling that once I had put my guard down, Philippe would swivel over and easily dispose of me. So I just watched with worry as the hunter strained himself.
While the man didn't show any signs of clear fright, he did take a single step back to give the special infected more room. "It is clear to that neither of you are from Paradise." He stated. Mentally, I rolled my eyes. Thanks, captain obvious. "Why are you here?" He questioned. "You should know that Paradise does not take security breaches lightly. Especially when the intruder seems to be wearing a dead officer's uniform."
Great, so he was smarter than I thought. "We're looking for someone." I admitted. Though I wasn't sure whether or not if it was a good idea to state just who was I looking for. For all I know, that could put them into even more danger.
Philippe nodded, whether in understanding my reason or just my English, I'm not sure. His masked lifted ever so slightly, as if he was grinning behind it. "I presume you are Zoey, Hmm?"
The mention of my name sent me on edge, and I gripped the guns until my knuckles went white. The ache in my arms disappeared and I made sure I had a decent shot at his neck before questioning him. "What makes you think that?" I refused to confirm my name. If he had already known it, then the rest of Paradise could be aware of me. I wanted to stay as nameless for as long as possible.
To my surprise, his gun wasn't put away but lowered to a non-lethal position. He turned to Aaron, whom was still silently seething against the wall. "And I believe zis is Aaron, no?" His French accent mangled his name, sounding more along the lines of 'ah-hon', more breathy than its English counterpart. I would bit my tongue out of pure habit if it wasn't for the feeling finally fading in my mouth.
I didn't answer, but it seems like I didn't need too. "We are on the same side, mademoiselle." Philippe stated. "You see, Doug has said much about you." He added, noticing my continuing distrust.
My stomach did backflips. "You know Doug?" I stuttered my question, and suddenly I didn't seem so threatening anymore. Philippe nodded. "Yes, he also told of your friend here." He gestured towards Aaron, whom in response gave a hard, silent glare from underneath the hat. "He however, failed to tell me that he was one of them."
"Where are they?" I demanded, my tone suddenly taking a turn. "Are they even still alive?" My hands were beginning to shake in the slightest, but I did my best to steady them. Philippe glanced down at the two weapons.
"I have already put away my own weapon, Zoey." He drawled the word. I noted on how the accent alternated the ending sound of my name. "And it is not polite to not accept a truce." His tone was still that robotic monotone, but something about how it was organized made it clear that I needed to be cooperative here, even if I didn't want to be.
Aaron groaned beside me. Blood had created a very evident stain on his clothes, and he was getting close to collapsing on the floor again. If I cooperated, I could buy us sometime. Hopefully enough time to patch him up. I would have to rip some clothing to use as a bandage, or if I'm lucky enough, find some actual first aid.
I lowered my gun slowly, until both arms were hanging at my sides. "You wouldn't happen to have some first aid, would you?" He nodded, but did not offer anything else. I narrowed my eyes. "If you could just spare us a bandage-" I began to insist, but he was already pulling out a small, red plastic box out from one of the many pockets of the officer's uniform. I wonder what else he has in there.
I hesitated, before putting both guns safely in my pockets and took a step towards him. Philippe held out the kit, waiting. In one quick motion, I snatched it and backed away to Aaron's place on the wall, where I put a hand on his unhurt shoulder and forced him to sit down.
He groaned in protest, but fell to the floor with a thud. The copper bullet sat a foot away, and I eyed it before opening the box and getting out what we needed. Across the room, Philippe pulled up the now upright chair and took a seat. He pulled out something, using the end of his shirt to wipe it clean. "I am surprised." He spoke, twisting the object in his hands. "I have questions, and I am sure you do as well. This is an excellent opportunity to help one another, no?"
I caught a glint of steel and eyed what he was holding. In shock, I patted down my leg and my boot's side, but it wasn't there.
Philippe twisted Theron's knife between his fingers. "This does not belong to you."
"Well, it doesn't belong to you either." It was the best comeback I could think of at the moment. Doing my best to conceal my shock, I turned away, unrolling a bandage and ripping off a decent length. I gripped Aaron's arm, unclasping his vest and tossing it aside. When I made move to unzip his jacket, he growled. I rolled my eyes, carefully unzipping the jacket and sliding it down.
I gulped. There was a hold in his black shirt where the bullet had entered, but the skin had already begun to heal. The hole wasn't as deep as it should have been and the swelling around it was already starting to go down. But that didn't mean he wasn't necessarily in pain. Aaron flinched as I began to clean it.
"The infected are strange, do you agree?" Philippe spoke behind me, watching with dim interest. "They are capable of so many astonishing things," He added, mostly likely refereeing to the fast healing Aaron seemed to possess. "Do you know why he can survive a gunshot?" He inquired, though it was clearly a rhetorical question.
I shrugged, tempted to mention that Aaron had survived a Witch's dreaded five fingered stab to the stomach, but I kept my mouth shut. Besides, if the bullet had hit him in a more vital area than the shoulder, he wouldn't have survived.
"Have you ever noticed that ze infection dominates the entire body? Every cell, every vein, even their breath contains a trace of ze illness." He spoke as if he was reading out of a book. To him, it seemed as if I was only focused on fixing up Aaron and only glancing back occasionally to make sure he didn't stab me in the back with the knife he stole. But I listened, Aaron was quiet.
"The infection demands so much of ze body that ze presence of a wound or another illness, Pneumonia for example, would cause it to shut down" He continued, and I briefly thought back to how Aaron hardly ever shivered in the cold. "So ze infection will combine with ze immune system, boosting it while still remaining unaffected itself."
There was a small tapping noise, and I turned back to see him leaning back in the chair, holding the knife in the light. "Interesting, no?" I glared at the stranger. "Where did you learn all of that? What are you, a scientist?" I taunted, but it wasn't like his explanation was ridiculous. It almost made sense even.
Philippe lowered the knife, glaring at me behind his mask. "I was not talking to you."
I was taken back. "…right. My bad." I went back to tearing the bandage, making three separate strips in order to properly bind. Aaron was in clear distress. His constant growling and low rumbles he made clearly stated that he still didn't like to be touched, but for some reason made no move to stop me or leap away.
"That bullet was laced with paralytic substance," Philippe tossed the knife in the air, caught it again and tossing it before twiddling with it in his palm. "If he was an immune, he would not be breathing right now." He continued, and I couldn't tell whether or not he's noticed my sudden interest increase.
I glared as he played with the weapon, the sunlight gleaming off of the steel. Through the window, the sky was showing the time's rate of passing. It wouldn't be much longer until sunset. The dark of the night would conceal us if we decided to keep moving, and there would be less attention if everyone was asleep.
"So tell me, Zoey." Philippe's voice drew me away from the window, and I stared at his observed the sharp tip of the knife. I reminded myself that both pistols were safely in my pockets, only a quick move away. "How do you know zis…man."
He waited for an answer, with only Aaron's rumbles filling the silence. I thought for a moment, "It's a long story" I mumbled. "Listen, I'm here for one reason and that reason alone. Just let us leave and we'll be out of your hair." I urged, trying my best to where I didn't sound like I was begging. While we could probably just hit and run, the smart move would be to just leave with as little violence as possible.
Aaron suddenly jolted, flinching a bit away from me and glaring hard at the bandages in my hands. He snarled, claws reaching up and scratching at the newly clean wound and its new bonds. I tried to swat his hands away. "Fuck, Aaron, you'll make it worse."
The hunter ignored my input, giving off some sort of noise of discomfort and began to tear off the wrappings. The white cloth fell to the carpet and I sighed. "Fine, it starts bleeding again, I won't help." I stuffed the unused cloth back inside the box and discarded the dirty wipes and wraps. The hunter tore off the last piece and I watched as the last ten minutes of work I had just done reduced to shreds. "Ungrateful little bastard" I muttered. Aaron simply glanced in my direction, unamused.
"Interesting."
Philippe made himself known again, and Aaron seemed to respond to his remark with one of his own, a deep, threatening rumble erupting from his throat. My eyes darted back and forth between the two males. There was no forgiveness or understanding in that noise.
Aaron's display of aggression did not go unnoticed, but Philippe's reaction was dull. He simply stared at the agitated hunter, deep in thought. I placed a hand on Aaron's arm, attempting to get his attention. I was shaken off. "Calm down," I whispered, "Please." I was so close to negotiating our way out of here, that last thing we need was for him to crush that chance just for some short lived revenge.
Surprisingly, he stopped fidgeting. Looking down, his hand was flexing inwards and outwards. I needed to get him out of here and away from Philippe before anything else happens. To be honest, I actually didn't expect for him to have this much self-control.
"The library"
The remark was soaked in his accent, but I understood it clear as day. "The library?" I repeated. I remembered seeing a large building off in the distance earlier. Why would he need me to go there? "What about the libra-?"
Something whizzed threw the air and landed in the wall near my head. I froze, staring at my reflection in the knife embedded in the wall. Philippe spun around in his chair, facing the lights and buttons. I rose to my feet, bringing Aaron with me as he typed something down. He looked up, glaring.
"Get out."
He didn't have to tell me twice. With a strong tug, the knife glided out and I stuffed it back inside my boot, deciding to figure out how he even got it in the first place later. I flew for the door, swinging it open and motioning Aaron to follow.
The hunter was concentrating too hard in his staring contest with the French man to care. Quickly, I strode over and snatched him by his lowered jacket, doing my best to drag him out of the door. It wasn't until I had successfully slogged him out the door did I remember my mask still lying inside. I mentally face palmed. As long as stayed off the streets, we'll be fine.
Aaron lept from the balcony, his recent injury having lost all effect on him. I slid down the metal ladder, reaching the end. There was no roof to hop onto without the risk of falling down the gap, and the distance to the concrete was making me a little sick. A few feet away, Aaron easily landed on the building with a thud.
One more step down and my feet would be dangling. I clutched the bars for dear life, not wanting to fall but not wanting another confrontation with Philippe, so I hung from the tower. From behind me, I could Aaron's sound of impatience. My lips thinned. "Just give me a moment, alright?"
I studied the gap. Not too wide, but defiantly something I should avoid if I have the option. One small slip and I plummet to my death. Or at least a couple broken limbs, which wasn't exactly on my wish list this year.
Aaron watched me from the safety of the roof. Underneath my breath, I cursed him. "Hey, buddy." I drawled out, and his head piped up. "Mind giving me a hand here?" I murmured, keeping my voice down. Didn't matter if I was stories off the ground, for all I know there could be sleeping people in the building next to me? All it would take is a curious soul to peer out of their window and see me dangling before they would run to get their kitchen broom. Or guns, though I rather be attacked by a broom.
The only answer I got was a scoff, complete with a smirk. Rolling my eyes, I carefully turned around to face the roof's edge, preparing for the jump. "Selfish"
I was about to leap when Aaron suddenly moved forward. There was a tug on my shirt, and I fell frontwards to meet the concrete. For a split second, I saw myself splattered on the ground, neck broken and limbs bent backwards. And I would have let out a death worthy scream if not for sudden lurch stealing the breath from my lungs. My hands and knees flew in front of me by reflex, and I waited for the fall.
But the ground never came. My head met with the solid rooftop and it took my heartbeat a moment to recover from the unexpected scare. Aaron still had his fingers clasped in the fabric of my shirt, and once the stinging sensation in my head had fading I realized I was pinned on my back. He had practically flung me five feet onto the floor.
His claws were starting to prick through the fabric, slightly poking my skin. I worked to pry his fingers away from my shirt. "This was not what I meant by lending me a hand." He removed his arm, crawling away, snickering his common fashion. So he wasn't selfish, just a masochist.
Sitting up, I patted myself down. Guns? Check. Knife? Check. Mask? Lost that. Courage? Lost that too.
Sighing, I picked myself up and gave a look around. The large building, what I assumed was the 'library', was a few blocks away. It was surrounded by small ant like officers, or at least looked like that way from my point of view.
The sun was disappearing over the town and I noted on how beautiful it looked before a shiver raced up my spine. It was cold, and dark clouds were looming in the purple sky. It didn't rain today, but I don't know what I can say about tonight. My breath fogged up in front of me, drifting off into the air.
Swiveling around, I stared at the unaffected hunter. Something was missing. "Where did your jacket go?" I asked, baffled. Aaron paused whatever he was doing before shrugging innocently. Strange, I could have sworn he had it on when I dragged him out.
A cold breeze passed by and I wrapped my arms around myself. "You did feel that, right?" He tilted his head, eyes still hidden from view thanks to his new favorite hat. Clad in his cargo pants, sneakers and plain black T-shirt, it was hard to believe that the cold wasn't hurting him somehow.
Staring at the infected's sickly tinted skin on his exposed arms, I sighed.
I glanced up from my place to the radio tower. "Looks like we need a place to stay for the night." I mused, walking away to the other side of the roof. I zipped up both pockets in order to prevent both of my weapons from falling out, and lept the gap to the other roof in the opposite direction. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas, would you?" No answer, just silence and the patter of footsteps. Of course he wouldn't.
"Well, we can't stay near here for much longer." I trailed on, scanning the horizon. We could always just camp out on one of the rooftops, but it was risky, and there was a chance that the cold could get to us-or at least me- before we got caught.
Going back into the forest was an option, but if we left, there would be no safe way back in.
I skipped over a few more houses, moving at a moderate pace. Once, I slipped and I feel forward with a grunt, my hands springing outwards to catch myself. Then it hit me, not the floor, but an idea.
I remember the buildings I saw as we first snuck into Paradise, run-down, boarded up windows and graffiti on every brick. But as we moved closer to the center of the city, the buildings were in better living conditions, it was much more busy and populated. No one wanted to live on the outskirts of town, and I'll bet a damn if one of those outer buildings will provide a sufficient shelter for the night.
I was ahead of Aaron for once, leading the way, every now and then I'd jump down a story until I was a safe enough distance to hop down onto the street.
The clean streets and last of the day's light faded away as we neared the edge of town. I spotted a grey, run down building to my right. Its windows were bordered up and it looked like no one had even touched the front door handle in years. I gave it a try anyway. One hand, than both hands on the door knob and I gave it a twist. It didn't budge. Well, so much for walking into the front door.
I was about to try another house when something rattled behind the door.
Stepping back, I made a grab for the knife and held it as the door shook. I waited for anything. A citizen, soldier or infect to burst out. Holding the knife tightly, I debated running or attacking.
An annoyed growl, muffled by the rotting wooden door broke me from my inner debate and I wasn't sure how to react. The door handle jiggled, stopped, and shook again, before whoever was on the other side simply began abusing it.
Bewildered, I put my ear close to the wall as the door continued to suffer its abuse. I could hear stifled sounds of agitated snarls, claws scraping against solid surface, and what sounded like broken glass being stepped on.
"Aaron?" I whispered, and for a moment the door's tremors stopped. Without thinking I reached over and turned the door knob again, this time it opened, and out came tumbling a hunter, yelping in surprise and almost tripping down the porch stairs.
I stopped myself from laughing out loud, but couldn't contain a few giggles now and then. Looks like he was getting the hang of opening doors now. The infected caught wind of my amusement and slouched in embarrassment.
"First the car, and now this?" I kept my voice low, teasing. Aaron replied with his infamous stare, silent as usual. I peered around the door frame. Broken shards of glass were scattered across the ground, and I followed a ray of moonlight to find it shining through an empty window frame.
I eyed the window, debating on whether or not it was broken before we had gotten here, or Aaron had kicked it in. I'm going with the latter, judging by how the edges curved. Now that I'm taking a closer look, it seemed as if he had just crashed through while I wasn't paying attention. I wouldn't be surprised.
My eyes trailed to a staircase, and I wondered if it as furniture bare as the downstairs too. I jumped at the sound of a hastily shut door. Swiveling around in alarm, Aaron watched innocently as I recovered from the sudden noise. I sighed, "Ok, so you learned how to work a door. That's nice, quit showing off."
The hunter only tilted his head at the sarcasm, but I could tell he was hiding a smirk. The corner of his mouth twitched as he bounded past me and up the stairs. I frowned, doing my best to follow. The glass crunched underneath my boots and I prayed that a piece wouldn't piece through.
When I had finally climbed to the top, I thanked lady luck for smiling my way. It was a large, single room with another door closed shut. Most likely the bathroom. But what mattered the most was the sheet covered lumps against the walls. Aaron had already made himself comfortable on one pile.
I walked over and grabbed the ends of one, pulling in off in one go. Underneath: a sofa. One of those ugly ones too, the kind that you'd find at your grandma's and you'd buy at a thrift shop for ten bucks. But it was soft as hell. I fell forward, ignoring how a storm of dust around as I made contact with the century old furniture.
Aaron, whom had been upside down in what I assume is a sheet covered recliner, made coughing noises. I looked up, but buried my face again when I caught sight of a smug grin. "Oh, please" I snarked, talking into the couch. "Like you're any cleaner." The cushion smelled like dirt and grime, looked like it had been through hell. But it was better than the inside of a truck.
I patted the keys in my pocket, sighing when I felt the metal press against my hand. I bet that little, cookie monster bag filled to the zipper with food and other goodies is still propped up against the fence, isn't it. My stomach gave a light rumble, and I seriously thought of the consequences if I decided to try and fetch it.
Flipping over to my back, I stared up at the ceiling. I glanced to the side for a split second. "You're going to fall and hit your head if you keep sitting like that." Aaron ignored my comment, glaring at me from upside down. He wasn't too far away, so he should know that it wouldn't take much for me to just reached over and whack him on the forehead if I wanted to. And I kinda wanted to.
He fiddled with his claws, flicking out the dried gore from underneath the nails. He was making a habit of that, I noted. Speaking of habits; I brought my hands together, popping each finger. Aaron looked up at the cracking noise, watching each finger get its deserved treatment. I noticed his staring. "What?" It was a bit creepy watching me and all. "Is your hat on too tight or something?"
Dispite gravity, his cap had yet to fall to the floor. It stayed glued to his head, but I could still see his eyes from my point of view. The black and white orbs gazed blankly, and I had no choice but to stare back.
A minute passed by before my belly interrupted us. This time however, it was not hunger. I clutched my lower torso, not happy on how my bladder decided to make its self-known. Hopping up, I made a beeline for the door, not once thinking if it was locked or not. Luckily for me, it wasn't.
It was obvious that there was no running water, but it wasn't like I was going to stay here much longer. A night's sleep was all I needed. But some food and warmth sounded really good right about now. As quickly as I could manage, I flipped up the toilet seat, had my pee and pulled up my pants as fast as I could manage.
As I walked out, I glanced at the mirror above the sink. The glass was cracked and dirty, but I could see my face well enough to know that my looks have definitely seen better days. My hair was sloppy, my skin pale and some dried blood was spread across my forehead in a thin line. I tried my best to remember where the blood had come from, but ended up licking my fingers and rubbing it off.
Aaron was still in his recliner when I had walked back, only now he was sitting upright, legs crossed over each other. I stumbled past him, pushing the sofa where the ends of their sides met. Falling sideways, I used the most of the couch to stretch out my legs while using the recliner's arm rest as an elevated pillow. Aaron made an inaudible noise as I plopped down.
I glimpsed up, eyelids halfway closed from exhaustion. "Are you allergic to sunlight or something?" I slurred. He made no large movements or makes any sound of acknowledgement. Instead, his eyes half closed and we shared a tired gaze before he fell onto his side, sprawled out with his head near mine.
His hat lay on the floor a foot away as we slept.
Well, post a chapter on time for once and don't update for month. Please don't hurt me.
Time: 9:31 PM. School has ended, and with final exams out of my way I'll have plenty of free time. Or so I thought. Turns out, for the next month I'll be as busy as a bee, with moving and remedial classes and blah blah blah. But like I said, this story will not die. It might be on life support, but it will live.
To those of you who have asked-or really, demanded- or romance in the story, or complained that the romance was too slow, here are my excuses. 1: I've already said that I have like, NO experience in that genre. 2: This story is going to be longer than you think. I foresee many chapters in the future. You guys will get your romance, be patient, darlings.
If you see a mistake, don't hesitate to point it out. Those sneaky twats can be anywhere.
Some reviews would be nice. (hint hint)