No No. no. no!
I darted my brown eyes to the source of the sound, the grip around my wrist loosening. A girl with raven-hair and leather boots outstretched her arm, pointing the tip of her gun at my assaulter. Least to say, she was breathe-taking with her scarred, tanned skin. She had the type of eyes that could glow in a place where the sun barely shines.
"This puppy here has more than just one bullet." She threatened.
Begrudgingly he released me. Sweat beated down
his forehead and dashes behind her through the cracks grimy glass doors of the
store. The owner was in for a particularly nasty surprise once he returned. I
huffed, blood again circulating in my hands, and retrieve my gun from the ground.
My rescue reviewed the contents of the Birchwood shelves almost vacant.
Supplies were limited in this corner in this town. The shop owner did not sense
my presence however I would pay despite his absence. Such trust was rare to find these days...
Now it was just her and I.
I couldn't help, but observe my savior would occasionally roll her midnight black eyes to my direction.
" Um... thank -thank you." I stammer, a good distance from her.
" don't fret about it Doll." She smirked stuffing her mocha brown duffel bag with preserved food and medicine.
"If if you would like you can have dinner at my house." I waltz towards her, brushing off dust from my skirt.
My grandma taught me better than to not treat my saviour. Plus the cottage is a bit too silent anyways.
She quirks her brow in confusion, probably wondering how insane someone could be to actually invite a thief for a meal when they are stealing right in front of them.
" Sure. Haven't had a proper meal for a long time. Unless you count six crackers with cream cheese and half a can of tomato soup as a meal." she accepts my offer.
A grin unwillingly spreads across my baby face. I won't eat dinner alone tonight and have an actual human conversation !
"Do you want to have anything in particular. My grandma said I'm a really good cook."
" Nothing really. anything that isn't soup is with fine." She drops a can of peas into her duffel bag that could probably contain the whole store's supplies if she tried.
" Do you have any food allergies?"
She slings a bag over her shoulder as she strolls to the exit.
“Let's go in my car” she thumbs to the baby blue car in front of the store.
“ Amazing! You can drive.” I marvel.
Both of us marched to her car, our steps echoing in the almost ear-splitting silence.
Only the filthy rich actually drive, anymore. Most make do by walking or the bus.
“ Huh-uh. My mama taught me in my hometown.” She unlocked the door of the vehicle with an aluminum key from the inside of her pocket.
She seemed like she didn’t belong in a sleepy town such as mine with its red-brick buildings and quiet roads. The skies were forever cloudy and grey, not indicating rain or snow.
“ C’mon in, Doll.” She gestured to the front seat.
I scurried in as she closes it for me and sauntered to the driver’s seat. I examine the beige interior of the car, numerous knobs and buttons below the front view window, fascinated by the machine I’ve seen the inside of in picture books.
“ She pretty swanky, isn’t she?” she snapped me back from my daze.
“ Hmm-mh.” I nodded. “ I’ll show you the way to my cottage, it’s somewhat far though.”
Approximately forty minutes by foot, my cottage was situated in a leaf-less forest. The car extraordinarily cozy, cold air vaping from a square section of grey panels. She drove uphill as I babble the directions, reaching the familiar forest. She parks her car near the entrance of the canopy, camouflages with dull green leaves.
The trees were the charred arms of demons from Hell curling their fingers in delight, rejoiced by the destruction of the world stationed to the ground despite harsh snow-storms and hammering rain. I navigated her to my cottage with penny red walls and latched roof, present in a circle of wide space, deflecting the branches. I unlock the door in comfortable silence, pondering how I could allow a total stranger, more so a thief to be welcomed in my house. The townspeople were right when they say I have ‘a few screws’ loose. I was greeted by the applewood fireplace and the fur rugs of foxes and bears, my grandma and I skinned and hunted together besides my dis-organized book-shelve and grandma’s rocking chair.
“ You have a…unique collection.” She eyes the bust of deer and bear my grandma crafted when the rich folk in the town still were popular.
“Thanks! I’ll prepare dinner. Sit anywhere you like. “ I skip to the corner of the room hosting a small stove and fridge.
I wrapped the dirty apron around my waist as the crook awes at the décor of my house.
My fridge consisted of turkey, duck, deer and preserved vegetables. The ground was too infertile after World War 3 for agriculture. I settle for duck stew as she uncomfortably took a seat on my cot at the side.
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