"We fought an uphill battle. One we had no hope of winning."
~~~
Felicity-Flick as most call her-Carter, has learned a thing or two in her 12 years of life. How to deal with drunk parents without waking the neighbors, how to smoke a cigarette withou...
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"We should both be asleep, you know."
Emils voice cut through the silent apartment, making me practically jump out of my skin. He was sitting in the kitchen alone, the light of a computer illuminating his pale, tired looking face.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked gruffly, adjusting the straps of my backpack and glancing at the oven clock. 2:18 AM. I had hoped everyone else would be asleep so I could escape without seeing any of them. I didn't think I could stomach another heated conversation after the last 24 hours of emotional drain. But my insomnia didn't agree, and apparently Emils didn't either.
"Just getting some work done. What're you doing?" He asked, shutting his laptop and raising an eyebrow at my bag. "With a backpack. What're you doing with a backpack?"
"What's it to you?" Had I been a little more tired, I would have just left without answering his question, but the little bubble of rage that still burned inside me made me want to stay and see what he would do next.
"Are you going somewhere?" He asked, more or less ignoring my question. I shrugged. I wasn't really going anywhere. I just needed to go. To get out, get away. The city was my safeplace. Well, it had to be now that my home had been infiltrated by the enemy, who apparnetly still hadn't gotten the hint that they were unwelcome. A part of me had hoped that when I came out of my bedroom, they'd be gone, realizing that being here was a painful waste of time for all of us. But there they were, camped out in my tiny living room looking more uncomfortable and squished than I had imagined. I didn't feel bad in the least. I didn't ask them to still be here. I didn't ask them to come here at all. The only thing I had to look forward to for the next few days was them leaving and finally leaving me alone. Hopefully for a very long time.
"Well, wherever you're going, can we talk before you do?"
"No." I said with a sigh, grabbing my forgotten gatorade off the kitchen counter. I don't think it was physically possible for me to want to have a conversation with him less on a night like this. Why he wouldn't know that, was beyond me.
"Please? It'll be quick, and I think you'll like what I have to say."
"Emil, the sound of your voice makes me want to cut my ears off with a steak knife. I don't think I'm going to like what you have to say." I could make out a frown on his face by the weak light of the city behind him.
"Harsh, but okay." He muttered to himself, standing up from his chair. "Just for a minute. That's all I ask. I promise, it will be worth your time." He nodded towards the porch taking a step to open the door.
I hesitated for a moment, hating myself for even considering going along with this. I should run away. I should get out while I have the chance. But the little soft part of me said to at least hear what he had to say. He didn't deserve that right, but still, sometimes it was useless to fight against my conscience. With a sigh, I dropped my backpack and walked outside, quite childishly making sure my shoulder collided with his side as I walked past. He raised one eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything about it.
