Welcome to the second chapter!

• • •

"What do you mean people did that to you?" He asks, confusion clouding his features.

"Exactly what it sounds like, people did this to me."

"I don't follow."

"I take it you haven't been in town for a while."

"Not since a couple of weeks after this thing started."

"You have a lot of catching up to do."

"Then start explaining."

"Can you untie me first? I promise I won't turn into a killer and steal your eyeballs."

He studies me for a moment, as if whether I'm going to explode or not if he unties me.

He slowly bends down and I hear the flick of his switchblade. Suddenly my right foot is free. I rotate my ankle and stretch out my leg, which started cramping a while ago.

"You're just gonna let her go?" Somebody asks in disbelief.

Yeah, I was about to ask the same question.

"Untying and letting go are two different things. If she makes a run for it I'm sure someone will have good enough aim to at least slow her down. Anyways, I doubt she'll try anything, she's outnumbered and has no weapons."

He gives me a pointed look and I just roll my eyes.

The rope from around my waist suddenly slackens and I am vaguely aware that the slash on my stomach has stopped gushing blood and is now quite stuck to my shirt. My hands are released and I wiggle my fingers to get the blood flowing to my extremities. I fully push the loosed rope off me and onto the floor. I then slowly peel my shirt away from my skin, wincing as I do so. It's not a pretty sight.

"Questions can wait till tomorrow, having you die right now wouldn't be very convenient." Noah decides with a glance to my abdomen.

"Oh, how considerate of you."

He glares at me, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. "Look, if you haven't noticed, they don't trust you," he whispers, "And they want to shoot you. I'm saving your ass, you should be grateful."

"I would be grateful if someone would find me a needle and some thread," I say in response, which earns me a shake of his head and an eye roll. "Oh, and alcohol, preferably vodka."

"Anything else your highness?" He asks sarcastically.

"A clean shirt," I say, examining the one that is currently covering the top half of my body. It's original shade of blue is now a muddy brown with several holes and now a giant slash across the front. Not to mention the blood.

"Fine, I'll be back in five," he says, speed walking out of the dining room, only to stop and grab one of the guys by his shirt. "If you touch her, I'll hurt you. Got it?"

The guy nods, a smirk evident as Noah shoves him back and strides out of the room. As soon as Noah is out of sight, the guy starts to approach me. The closer he gets, the sleazier he gets.

He licks his lips. "Buddy boy said I couldn't touch, but that doesn't mean I can't look, right?" He asks, his eyes flitting over my body appreciatively.

Oh, so when Noah said not to touch me, he meant...that's disgusting.

I don't know what he would find that attractive about me anyway. And no, I'm not one of those girls who have incredibly low self esteem, actually I would say I'm alright looking, a little on the short side, but still not half bad. Right at this very moment though, not so much. For starters, when was the last time I showered? I can't remember, which probably means a really long time ago. My skin colour has also changed from pasty white to brown. That might be dirt though. And my hair, don't even get me started. I'm pretty sure that it has dreadlocked itself.

"You're a sleazebag, you know that?" I say, scrunching up my nose.

"Come on sweetheart, tell me what you really think," he replies, puffing out his chest.

"I just told you what I think. Are you deaf, or just incompetent?"

"Mouthy aren't you sweetheart? Tell me something, what's your type?"

My type, well where to start...

"My type? Basically the opposite of you."

"The opposite of me," he ponders. "So, female?"

I roll my eyes. "Lets put it this way, if you were the last guy on earth, I would push you off a cliff."

"Ouch sweetheart, you wound me."

"Is it fatal?"

"Huh? Is what fatal?"

"Your wound, asshat."

"No, of course not."

"That's a shame, it really is."

He throws his head back and laughs.

"Did I say something funny?"

"No, I was just thinking of all the things I would have done to you if you showed up before this thing started."

"You know what? You're the kind of person I would enjoy shooting."

"And you're the kind of person I would enjoy fuckin-"

"Leave her alone Stan," a timid voice from behind me says.

The name fits, sleazy Stan.

"Or what? What are you gonna do about it?" He taunts.

"I'll set the dog onto you again, you seemed really happy about that last time."

I chuckle as Stan starts to fidget. He's scared of dogs.

The owner of the voice steps into my view, and unsurprisingly, it's the girl who doesn't belong in this place, the one who was scared of the gun. In her hands she holds a bowl with steam rising from it. She places it on a nearby table, reaching in with her hand and pulling out a torn piece of white cloth that is saturated with by the looks of it, warm water. She wrings it out, before cautiously passing it to me. I willingly accept it, pressing the cloth to my face and welcoming the warm feeling it brings.

"You guys have running water?" I ask, scrunching up my nose as the cloth returns from my face black.

She nods, rinsing the cloth in the water before returning it to me. "We use the rainwater and have a generator for power."

"And you guys still have food?"

"Our parents were always overcautious and had a store of food in the basement, as well as an orchard out back and a greenhouse full of tomatoes." She replies shyly, scuffing her shoe on the dusty wooden floor.

Our parents? Are they all siblings? I mean they don't act like siblings. Noah said he'd rather shoot...what was her name? Casey..? Something like that. That's not exactly a brotherly thing to say.

"You're related to all of these guys?" I ask in bewilderment, gesturing around me.

Her lips twitch into a small smile. "No, no, Noah is my brother, and we kinda just collected these guys."

I nod in understanding. The two being siblings makes sense, they do look quite alike.

"We found Garrett and Patrick in the orchard about two months ago," she continues, pointing at the two who I had predicted may have been related. "Stan," she spits disgustedly, "Was stealing the tomatoes from the greenhouse, and Noah said he could stay. I hate the guy."

"I can hear you sweet cheeks," Stan comments from the far corner of the room, where he had retreated after being threatened with a dog.

"That's the point," she mumbles, taking the makeshift facecloth from me once again and rinsing it in the water. She wrings it out and hands it to me again.

"What about the other guy, and the girl, where did they come from?" I ask curiously. I mean, it's none of my business, but I like to know my shit.

"Aaron is one of Noah's dumb jock friends," she explains quietly as if she doesn't want him hearing. He must be the guy who was with Noah on the porch when I first got here. "And Cassidy, is one of Noah's groupies who showed up a couple of days after this thing started, distraught and looking for sympathy because she forgot to feed her goldfish and it died."

I emitted a snort. "What a tragedy."

"That's what I said to her, she didn't understand my sarcasm."

I chuckle, which hurts more than it should. I look at my wound, and cuss under my breath as I notice it's bleeding again. I decide to ignore it, holding my hand over it again and pressing the material of my shirt onto it. Hopefully that will absorb the blood.

"You never told me your name," I say to the girl who is helping me despite the fact that I am a complete stranger.

"Mae. I'm Mae," she smiles shyly. "What's your name?"

"I'm Cl-"

A door slams, cutting me off, and I glance over my shoulder to see Noah return with an armload of stuff. He sits back down on the chair he had pulled up previously. He places a large bottle of clear liquid on the floor. I can't see the label, but it doesn't look like water. He lets the rest of the stuff fall onto his lap, picking up a plastic packet and ripping it open with his teeth. He discards the plastic, handing me some gauze.

"Thanks," I mutter genuinely, peeling my shirt back up in order to place the gauze directly on the wound. I decide that one way or another, my shirt is going to have to come off anyway, so I pull it over my head. I can feel Noah's eyes on me, but I can tell it's not in a perverted way by the next thing he says.

"When was the last time you ate?" He questions.

I laugh humourlessly. "Eating? What's that?" I know I'm skinny, too skinny. My ribs can be seen through my skin and my stomach no longer looks flat, it looks hollow. Being that thin isn't attractive on anyone, and let me tell you, being skinny sucks ass. You literally have no cushion for your bones, so you constantly get bruised from running into stuff. The worst part is that my bra doesn't even fit me anymore. I swear my boobs have shrunken.

"Hey sweetheart," sleazy Stan cuts in. "You never did tell us your name."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Eye rolling is weird. What is its purpose? Maybe you tend to roll your eyes more often when talking to stupid people because they are so dumb that you have to physically check that your brain is still there, and not all of your brain cells have been lost.

"Day dreaming about me sweetheart?"

"No, I was actually thinking about how many brain cells I was losing by talking to you," I reply nonchalantly.

He doesn't seem affected by my comment. "You still haven't told me your name."

"Clementine," I state with a straight face.

He snort-laughs in a hybrid pig hyena type fashion. Damn, that is one ugly laugh. "Clemintine? Really?" He chokes out.

"No."

His smile vanishes. "What is it then?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but I gave him a look that says 'don't even try', and he shuts his mouth.

Noah stares at me passively as I remove the gauze to look at my cut.

"You gonna sew that up yourself?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Why, are you volunteering?"

"Would you rather do it yourself?"

Touché.

"Are you sure you're qualified?" I ask skeptically as he moves his chair closer to me.

"I took a first aid course last year, princess, I'm pretty sure that makes me qualified."

"So first aid courses cover how to sew up a slash wound on someone's abdomen now?"

He rolls his eyes at me, giving me a flat look. "Stop talking."

"I can't help it, I talk when I'm nervous," I reply, watching him thread the needle with dental floss of all things, apparently thread is overrated. He sets the needle aside, which I am grateful for, and drops two round tablets in my hand. Aspirin, I can tell by the doubtful look in his eyes that he knows it will do nothing for the pain, I know it too. I watch as he unscrews the cap of the bottle containing the clear liquid. As soon as the cap has been removed I get a whiff of the stuff, it is evidently a spirit of some kind, judging by the potent smell it gives off. I know the bottle must be very old because the only alcohol made here in Wescott is beer, and it tastes like ass.

Noah hands me the bottle, nodding as if to say 'good luck, you'll need it'. I place the two aspirin tablets on my tongue, bringing the bottle to my lips and tipping it back. I take two large gulps, not waiting to swallow before I go for my third. I wince as the liquid burns my throat, I can feel it burning all the way down. It brings a tear to my eye, and makes me feel lightheaded for a moment. Removing the bottle from my lips and passing it back to Noah, I notice that I leave a red handprint on the transparent glass of the bottle.

He screws the cap back on. "Pass me that piece of cloth, would you Mae?" He asks her. She nods, dipping it in the water again and handing it to him. He presses the warm material to the skin around my wound, cleaning off as much blood and dirt as possible. Explosions of pain erupt, spreading across my skin like white hot fire. I bite my lip to keep myself from crying out, I want to hit his hand away, but remind myself that he is helping me.

He removes his hand, and I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

He looks at me seriously. "I don't know how to put this nicely. So I won't."

Not what I want to hear...

"This is going to be a living hell for you, and it's going to hurt more than anything you've ever felt before."

Well don't sugarcoat it.

I put on a brave face. "I've been hurt worse than this before. I can handle it."

Lies, lies, lies.

"Whatever you say, princess," he replies, clearly not believing my claim.

I don't even believe it myself.

Once again, Noah picks up the bottle from the floor, taking two long slugs from it. My eyes widen. My life is literally in his hands and he's drinking vodka?

"You're drinking?" I ask disbelievingly.

"It seems that way doesn't it?"

Oh God, I'm going to die at the hands of a hot guy under the influence of alcohol. What a way to go.

He turns to the group of people who are still watching. "You guys get out of here, we'll have a meeting in the morning."

They mutter to each other, shooting me dirty looks, but they eventually start to disperse. Mae remains standing next to me, and Noah addresses her.

"You too Mae, you don't want to see this. You can sleep in my room tonight, we'll give princess your room for the night." She nods, not questioning his orders.

"I can sleep in the living room or something," I say after Mae is gone.

He shakes his head. "Mae's room is the only one with a lock."

I frown. "I won't try and run away."

"It's not you I'm worried about."

I gulp, suddenly aware of what he's talking about. The other people in this house clearly don't want me here. He thinks they'll smother me in my sleep.

Noah picks up the needle again, looking me dead in the eye. "Close your eyes."

I scrunch my eyes shut, not bothering to protest or argue. I hear him inhale and exhale deeply, before my skin turns to lava. It is an indescribable feeling, a feeling that I hope I will never again have to feel. My whole body tingles, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, my toes curling. My eyes are so tightly closed that I start to see a kaleidoscope of patterns glittering behind my eyelids, the pain is so intense that I clench my teeth together to keep them from chattering, only I'm not cold. I feel a single tear force its way from my closed eye, it rolls down my cheek and then falls, I hear it land with a splat.

"Sorry," I hear Noah mutter, and then slowly the pain starts to dull. I try to open my eyes, but they are heavy. I slip into oblivion.

• • •

Hello beautiful people.

So this is completely unrelated to what you just read, but I think my neighbours are vampires. They have their curtains closed during the day, and open at night. Plus, all of them are extremely pale, like paler than me which is an achievement. It's like they don't get enough sunlight. Shall I behead them or wait for actual proof?

How was that chapter? You know what I find funny? You don't even know the name of the main character yet.

Please comment, vote, and follow.

Until next time.