‘Let’s make one thing perfectly fucking clear. I would never force any woman and you know that. But I would rather rip my own heart out than hurt her, never mind.’ My throat tightens at even the suggestion I'd do something so disgustingly unthinkable. Clenching my teeth, ‘I would never.’
Ru nods once, ‘she said… she…’ He shakes his head again and I don’t think I’ve seen him struggle for words so much before. ‘She was happy with the situation, so that’s that.’ But his expression turns hard. ‘If she isn’t happy with anything, and I mean anything, Liam, I will always have her back.’
I nod, ‘I’d expect no less.’
We stare at each other, silently working through our shit. I know Ru can see in my gaze how I’m feeling, the determination to be there for her, to work this out and most importantly, protect her. As if settling on the latter, Ru tips his head and claps a slightly concerned-looking Vishrut on the back.
‘The girls are packed. Let’s take them home.’
Chapter ten
Isla
The sun warms my cheek as we walk. It has finally decided to make an appearance after such a harsh winter.
High-pitched chirps of the birds cheer us on as we walk. Us girls and three masked Skulls. Or should I say, my long lost brother, my childhood crush and the mind-blowing shag I had months ago, who is the reason I now have a baby in my belly.
Who would have thought that after seven years of the apocalypse my life would get even more messed up? It's laughable for anyone who is watching it and for brief moments, I find myself almost laughing at the absurdity, too. But with the way my insides are churning with anxiety, right now it's not feeling so funny.
I hitch the rucksack higher up on my back, the old straps long worn in and the support pretty much non-existent from its years of use.
At least I have the sun, the light warming my cold bones. I’ve missed her beauty recently. Darkness isn’t just loneliness, it's also cold. Like my shrivelled-up heart.
God, I need to stop with this pity party or else I’m going to end up becoming insufferable even to myself. Only problem is that it's easier said than done — just like everything else in the world.
How am I supposed to just start skipping around in the sunshine acting like everything is right with the world when it’s not.
Fauna, my best friend, on the other hand has an unusual pep in her step as she strides in front of me. Every so often, her gaze will flick up to my asshole of a brother and a genuine smile will bloom across her face. Her happiness is amplified by the sun, it's infectious and practically radiating off her. Shame my aura of hostility is like a set of steel armour, causing it to bounce straight off me.
Unfortunately, it's not like any of the girls will take any notice, Fauna included. I’ve always been the grump of the group and they have embraced that side of me… I think.
‘How you getting on?’ Vish appears beside me.
Those years apart had allowed me plenty of space for my imagination to linger on our late night chats in the kitchen. The drunken laughs we’d have when Ru had a gaff whilst our parents were away.
I’d forgotten how chatty he was and how unlikable I have become.
I give him a small smile, forcing my cheeks to round in that way that has people nodding with approval. Like me altering one slight way my face looks is all the proof they need. They never bother to look deeper and I never want them to.
‘Here, let me carry your bag.’ Vish tugs on my strap, not waiting a second to even give me time to respond.
‘No.’ I answer, frustration rising within me.
He scoffs, tugging at my strap again. ‘C’mon, Isla.’
What the hell does he think he's doing, trying to take my stuff? The belongings that I have painstakingly collected all of these years.
‘I don’t need your fucking help, Vish.’ I snap.
What is it with men and deciding what is best for you? Instead of doing the right thing and actually asking, “Would you like help?”they come in all macho and ruin your mood even more.
I scowl.
At what point will it actually occur to them thatweare also survivors and thatwedidn’t have some fancy stadium walls protecting us from the horrors of our new world. But no, a group of women could never carry a heavy rucksack each, never mind defend ourselves against the psychos that have managed to survive in the apocalypse. I bet he thinks I still cry over a broken nail.
Fuck him and fuck men in general.
‘I’m just trying to help.’ He defends holding his hand up.
