"Thanks for all the money, twerps! See you next spring!"
Her voice was like poison, it filled the dungeon and invaded Dale's ears, and he cringed.
Only after the trap door was slammed shut and the latch locked tight, did dale process what she'd said
Oh
it was over, It was fall, the good part was over now.
The fresh food. the warmth. Over. He didn't want to think about the months to come. But what else was there to think about? He wondered if this was the winter he was going to die. with each passing day, his condition had worsened, and every time summer break ended, He was less and less ready to face it. To face the cold.
Dont think about it, He told himself, knowing it would just make him suffer all the more.
He instead licked his fingers, they were lemony, they always were. Always a little sticky with nothing to wash them off with.
Dales attention was grabbed when the figure of his friend- by circumstance- slid down from the rim of the large barrel he leaned on, and plopped down next to him. It was Sidney, even in the dark, the outline of their bandanna was unmistakable. Sidney was always a puzzle. The kid was the thinnest of the four of them, yet worked the hardest, and complained the least. Dale didn't understand where they got that motivation from.
"So. you wanna play twenty questions?" Sid broke the silence.
There was a beat before the taller boy willed his voice to escape his throat.
"Sure."
"Alright, Im thinking of... an animal."
While thinking of his question, Dale began reminiscing. It had been a while since he'd seen an animal that wasn't a rat, weevil or roach. He thought about the horses on his dads equestrian property, He used to be terrified of them, giant and powerful, with legs that could kick the breath out of you.
He found himself fantazising about how they'd taste.
"Are you gonna ask a question or what?"
The interruption derailed Dale's train of thought. He nodded.
The game only took up about fifteen minutes, and he lost, but it was time well spent.
*
It was only, presumably, a few hours after his last sleep when Dale felt his cravings arise. He hunched over on the ground, arms clutching his abdomen.
There was a sour squeezing feeling in his cheeks as his salivary glands emptied themselves, filling his mouth. he swallowed the fluid back down, again, and again, until it stopped coming. The hunger that clawed at his stomach walls gathered itself and rose up into a sneeze, which he let out.
And then the urges were gone. He always sneezed when he was hungry, It was odd.
He didn't want to eat. It was just lemons and sugar, and sometimes rats. It was always those three things, and it had gotten pretty old. But he didn't have a choice to be picky, did he?
Dale reached over the rim of the barrel he huddled by, and picked out, you guessed it, a lemon. He gripped the fruit in his hands, digging his fingernails into its skin and tearing it open. some of the lemon juice squirted into his face, which he wiped away.
He ripped it into tiny bits, so he wouldn't have to chew. He started sticking the pieces in his mouth one by one, skin and all. What he couldnt swallow whole, he spat out and ripped up some more. A few times he instinctually tried to chew, which was not a good idea. His teeth pressed over the piece, and shooting pain was sent through their roots into his skull.
He shuddered, clasping a hand over his cheek, like that was supposed to help. After gathering his will again, he went back to eating it properly. Well, what properly would be in this specific circumstance.
He was used to the sourness, and the bitterness.
He'd gotten accustomed to a lot of things, being down here. Boredom, Pain, exhaustion, the works. It was for his survival that he grew to feel less, that he cared less.
It was for the better.
*
It was halloween, Dale could smell it. The chocolate, the pumpkin, the commotion. If kids got close enough to the hatch, he could hear the soft thud of feet, and the muffled sound of laughter.
Why couldn't it have been them, why him? He should be the one out there, eating candy, dressing up, having fun. Were they mocking him with their joy? showing him how good they had it, and how bad he had it? Those little pests, those ungrateful pieces of garbage, they had no idea, they had no Idea.
He wanted to crawl his way up there, make them live his hell. They wouldn't be laughing after that. They wouldn't be mocking him with their happiness. With their loot. With their innocence.
He cried out in frustration, fingers angrily fumbling on the ground before grasping a cockroach and chucking across the room.
The bug hit louis in the side "What was that for?" He objected.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I DONT CARE!" He screamed at the boy. He was too furious to listen to anyone right now, too angry to be guilty when he heard them start to sniffle.
"Sorry." Lou responded, which just made Dale feel worse.
He curled up in a ball and squeezed himself until he was sore. Until he stopped wanting to hurt things. Why did he want to hurt things so bad? What happened to him? He wanted this night to end. He wanted everything to end.