This Was Home [h.s.]

| 3. GRANOLA BAR |

It was morning, or at least I assumed it was morning when I finally woke up. We were in the basement that had zero windows to alert us of the time of day. It was only illuminated by a singular candle.

I rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes and sat up. If my body wasn't sore enough from all the exertion it went through yesterday, it was definitely sore now by adding in the whole sleeping arrangement I had set up. I could feel my bones and muscles screaming at me.

"Ergh," I groaned as I attempted to stretch out a fraction of the discomfort from my body.

Once I finally became more alert and aware of reality again I noticed I was the only one in the room. I reached for the flashlight right beside me and shined it in every corner. His sleeping bag was still laid neatly on his side. Where did he go now?

Guess that meant I had to go back upstairs, didn't it?

I huffed a disgruntled breath, double checked that I had my necessities on me, blew out the candle, and carefully walked up the stairs.

I half-expected the door to be locked and for me to be a true kidnap victim at this point. Surprisingly, though, the knob turned with ease and the door swung open.

I guess I was a little loud because I then heard an annoyed voice from the kitchen, "Will you quiet that shit down?"

"Well good morning to you too," I said as I shot a look towards him.

He ignored my comment. Shocking.

"What time is it?"

"About 8," he replied without even glancing my direction. He hadn't looked up from what he was doing this entire time. It looked like he was mixing things in bags. It had a strange odor to it. My face pinched with a tinge of disgust.

"What are you doing?"

He dropped the items on the counter, his hands slapping against it in obvious annoyance. He looked at me with a dramatic eye roll.

"Can we just make an agreement that you stop asking so many fuckin' questions?"

"Maybe I'll stop when you start seriously answering them."

His eyes closed and his head slumped to the ground. A few moments passed before I heard him take a deep breath and then continued mixing whatever he was concocting.

"What I'm doing is making us some food before we head out." He glanced at me and I think he could tell I wasn't totally convinced.

"Relax, they're just MRE packets. They look scarier than they are," he paused and pointed at my bag, "Better than a singular damn granola bar."

My head shot back at my backpack before glaring back at him, "How did you know...did you go through my stuff?"

The bag was somehow steaming now. He looked back at me with a fake bewildered look.

"Uh, yeah. How do I know you're safe to be asleep around?"

"You're worried about me? Have you looked in the mirror?"

"I mean not lately. Mirrors are hard to come by, usually I just use the reflections of cars or—"

"Stop talking," I cut him off. This just made him laugh under his breath. I really wish I wasn't so hungry so I could just deny his offering to prove a point, but even he could hear my stomach growling.

His once amused expression suddenly faded and he briskly walked over to me. He stopped once he was close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. My breathing hitched in the back of my throat and I was trying my hardest to avert his gaze. I didn't even have to look at him to know his eyes were planted right on me. It was amazing how intimidating he was with little to no words.

Without much warning he grabbed hold of my right wrist and raised it up.

"Next time," he opened up my palm and firmly placed a food packet inside, "You can just eat your damn granola bar."

His hand maintained a tight grasp for a moment, still glaring intently at me. I wondered if he actually could read minds, it wouldn't surprise me at this point. The way he looked at me made me feel as if he already knew what I was going to do or say before I even had a chance to find out myself. Nothing felt like a secret and he was somehow always one step ahead.

He finally let go and my eyes gained back the courage to look back at him. This was the first time I'd seen him so up close. I never noticed he wore a necklace until now. It was a cross and it was swinging in front of his neck, almost if it was trying to hypnotize me. There was a look in his eye that I couldn't quite pinpoint. Pity, maybe?

The mud that was once splattered on his face from last night seemed to have disappeared, but the pieces in his hair had now hardened and cracked along the strands. Even the cuts had formed a scab and they looked painful. I almost wanted to reach up and touch them. I wanted to know the story behind them—or at least I thought I did.

His eyebrows furrowed once he noticed me staring at the cuts on his cheeks. A grimace formed for a split second before turning into a scoff as he looked me up and down. He inched even closer to me.

It was so silent I could hear a pen drop. I could tell my hands were sweating because of it, possibly even my armpits through my shirt. It got worse when he finally broke the silent stares by raising his hand up and pressing two fingers firmly on the side of my neck. This made my heart race even faster and my breathing became even more constricted. He laughed, his fingers still pressed against me.

"That's what I thought," he released his touch, "Heart's going fucking insane. Remember that next time you want to get a fucking mouth with me."

He stepped back, now within breathable distance between us. "So are you done acting like a brat so we can move on, princess?"