Page 9 of Making Haven
Okay, yeah, I’m a total asshole.
I sit back down with a huff, digging into the scrambled eggs on the plate and sipping at the water. I wonder how the fuck he’s got fresh water but put it at the back of my mind, telling myself I’ll ask him later. I should really apologize. I can put up a wall around myself to keep myself safe but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least have basic manners towards Lawrence.
Noticing the little pills on the plate, I quickly swallow them down. Hopefully they help with the swelling and throbbing in my ankle. The sooner I can get walking on this thing, the sooner I can leave this place.
For just a moment, I let myself think about how nice it would be to stay. I could sleep on this comfortable couch, could keep myself warm by the fire, could finally stop being so goddamnlonely.
I know it’s only a dream, but what a nice dream it is.
It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to think about anything other than what it takes to survive another day. I don’t let myself hope, because the crushing disappointment of waking up in this shit world gets to be too much if I do. But right now, just for a moment, I let myself picture what it would be like to simply becomfortable.
I take another sip of water, smiling to myself for the first time in… a long time. For just a moment, Iet myselfhopethat just maybe things are going to be okay.
Letting out a long breath, I let the moment pass. As much as I’d like to keep that hope alive, sometimes it’s better to expect the worst in everything and everyone, that way I can be pleasantly surprised.
“Oh,” Lawrence says softly when he steps back into the room. “You’re done eating. Good. Would you like to come outside with me? I’m going to attend to my chores.”
I stand up, leaning on my walking stick. I nod my head. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
“Good,” he says back before turning around and walking towards the entryway. He slips into his shoes before turning towards me. He lets out a sigh before kneeling on the floor and gesturing me forward.
“What?”
“Let me help you with your shoes. It’ll be quicker than watching you hobble around trying to do it yourself.”
“God, I hate you,” I grumble but there’s less heat in the words.
Lawrence just rolls his blue eyes before holding out my shoe expectantly. I quickly slide my good foot into the shoe, leaning against my walking stick so as not to put too much weight on my bad ankle. “Please don’t kick me in the head,” Lawrence murmurs and it surprises a smile out of me.
“I won’t. Not worth hurting my ankle for.”
“Good to know you have an ounce of self-preservation hidden in there somewhere.”
“Right next to the disdain and self-loathing.”
Lawrence is gentle as he helps my right foot into my shoe. I have to look away, afraid I might do something foolish likeblushat the gestures. This is because I haven’t been around a kind soul in two years. This has nothing to do withLawrenceand everything to do with me being a human so touch-starved that the slightest thing will have my heart aching.
“Ready?” Instead of answering, I nod my head and follow behind Lawrence as we step outside.
I didn’t have much time to look around yesterday. That same eerie feeling clings to this place. I’m reminded of those haunted houses that pop up during Halloween, like if I’m not paying attention a clown is going to pop out and try to jump scare me. It’s dark out but my eyes adjust quickly, making everything grayscale which only adds to that sinking feeling in my gut.
The house that Lawrence stays in is clearly lived in. Everything is taken care of down to the lawn while the other houses look abandoned. It’s strange, like maybe he didn’t have the heart to clean up his neighbors’ houses. If this was even his neighborhood before everything went down. For all I know, he came upon this place and made it his own after the zombies started wreaking havoc.
Movement to my left has me tensing up, but I let out the breath I was holding as I realize it’s a chicken. They make a little noise as they step over to us.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Lawrence says in a cooing voice, squatting down to pet the chicken before standing back up and heading towards the back of his house. I take one more look around before following behind, much slower.
The chicken follows behind Lawrence as well and warmth fills my chest in a way that I haven’t felt in a really long time. Thesight reminds me of a lost duckling following their mother, or maybe an excited puppy. I almost find myself smiling. Almost.
Lawrence makes his way over to a big hole that’s surrounded by a barrier of large rocks. I lean over the rocks and look down, realizing it’s a well.
“Did you make this yourself?”
“Mhmm,” Lawrence hums, carefully tossing a bucket down into the well before pulling it back up by a rope. “I needed some supply of water and relying on it raining regularly wasn’t working so I made this.”
“Huh,” is all I can think to say in response. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to need any reply from me. He goes about his chores, releasing the bucket from the rope before bringing it along as he moves to what I can only describe as a large dog house. It’s clearly handmade as well. There’s a bucket on the ground outside of it that he tips over before refilling. The chicken that’s been following him quickly shoves her head into the bucket, drinking.
There’s a few clucks from inside the doghouse, letting me know there’s more chickens inside. The house only comes to Lawrence’s armpits and I quickly realize why it was built that way.
