I feel myself slowly regaining consciousness, slipping out of the warm comfort of sleep. In this new world, a world full of monsters, both dead and alive, sleep is the only escape. My only escape even though I'm put in grave danger every time I shut my eyes. I keep them closed, I listen first, like I do every morning. Something is different. All is quiet. No birds, their songs dancing through the sky from nearby trees. No wind, whistling, tickling my nose and cheeks, making the leaves rustle. Just silence. I reach for my knife, under my pillow. My pillow? No, the pillow of a stranger, from the house I broke into last night. My hand snakes under the pillow, feeling for my weapon. Where is it? I open my eyes, I need to find it, but what I see is not what I expected. Opposed to the cracked and bloodied walls of my abode from the night before, I'm met with floral wallpaper, pictures of a happy family hung over top. The window in front of me, cracked open to let in a gentle breeze, blowing the drapes. The bed, soft under the weight on my body, clean blankets pulled over me. In the corner of the room sits a girl on a chair. She's reading a book, completely pulled in as if she has nothing at all to worry about. She glances up from her book and we meet eyes.
"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Her voice is gentle with a slight southern twang. She asked how I was feeling? Overwhelmed, tired, scared, confused. I don't know where to start so I don't. Instead I continue to stare into her bright, blue eyes. "Okay? Um, wait here." She sets her book down on the side table next to her before getting up and leaving the room. Leaving me alone. I feel like running, but I don't. For some very odd reason, I feel like I can trust this girl. Her gentle, inviting nature is very foreign to me after everything I've been through in the past two months.
"...she hasn't said anything yet, she looks–" I hear the girl approaching, talking to someone. They arrive at the door, the same blonde girl accompanied by two women. One blonde, the other brunette.
"Hi, sweetie." The brunette speaks, "I'm Lori, this is Patricia and Beth. What's your name?"
"Caroline– Uh Rory. Rory." My voice is hoarse, I try to cough it out. The girl–Beth, passes me a glass of water. I drink it all down, not realizing until now how thirsty I really was.
"Poor thing, she must be starving. I'll grab her something from the kitchen." Patricia leaves and Beth follows, leaving just me and Lori.
"You're safe now, Rory. We're going to get you feeling better, some food in your tummy, fresh clothes. How does that sound?" Too good to be true, honestly.
"Good. Thank you."
Patricia and Beth return with a tray of food, a sandwich, a glass of orange juice and a chocolate chip cookie. The three watch as I scarf down the food. With each bite, my hunger seems to grow until, on the last few bites, I'm full. Before everything, a measly sandwich and cookie would be a mere snack but after living on a cracker a day for the last month, I feel like a queen at a feast.
"How are you feeling now?" Patricia asks.
"Better. Thanks."
"When she's ready, take her upstairs for a bath, Beth will get it ready. We'll all have dinner inside tonight, give her a chance to meet everyone. Hopefully the men will be back before then."
"Thank you, Patricia." Lori says. With that it's only Lori and I again. "Ready?" I nod, I've never been more ready. Being covered in dirt, sweat and blood really tolls on you, especially when you don't know whose blood it is.
Upstairs, Lori helps me undress and into the bath. The warm water sends chills and goosebumps up my dry skin, disappearing as soon as I'm fully submerged. Almost immediately, the water turns a maroon color, a mixture of blood and grime. Lori returns with a washcloth and a plethora of bottles of scent and bubbles. After long enough that my fingers and toes are shriveled like raisins, I'm clean. I watch as all those months of filth and fear run down the drain. It's time for a new beginning, with Lori and Beth and the rest of their people. Lori told me I'm safe now. I'm safe.
I step out of the bath, only cold for a moment before I'm wrapped up in a dryer warm towel.
"Much better, huh?" Lori smiles a warm smile to which I copy, mine weaker and a bit forced. "I'm glad you're here, sweetie– Rory. I don't know what happened to you but I know this world can be cruel, especially for young girls. When you're ready to talk, I'll listen." Her voice is full of sincerity. She reaches out for me, pulling me into her. A hug. I'm held in her arms for what feels like hours, wonderfully long hours that I never want to end. She pulls away and an emptiness returns in my chest. "I'll let you get dressed. Come on downstairs when you're ready." With that she leaves. I turn my attention to the vanity, rustic with a large mirror above. I step into view. Still wrapped in a towel, I look at the strange girl. Her blonde hair, blonde once again. Arms and legs skinnier than I remember. The eyes are what get me. Once green and full of life, now a dull shade of gray. Tears sting my eyes, I allow them to fall down my cheeks, leaving twinkling streaks down them. I let myself go for ten seconds only before wiping away the tears, clearing my mind of the wishes, the regret, the fear. I get dressed into the jeans shorts and tank top left on the vanity, both a bit big but better than my tattered and ripped, poor excuse for clothes.
After a few moments of hesitation, I leave the security of the bathroom. I walk down the hall, the floor creaking under my foot every so often. Down the stairs, I hear voices.
"I don't know, she looks maybe 13? 14?"
"A few bruises, some scratches, nothing serious aside from being completely malnourished."
"How long was she out for? Two days?"
I follow the voices to the living room. A group of 10 or 11 are gathered around, some sitting, others standing. I'm noticed by a man, he throws his head in my direction and makes a slight whistling noise. The others turn and face me, each of them looking directly at me. After everything I've seen, you'd think I'd be over the social anxiety that ruled the old world. Apparently not. My hands grow sweaty and my mouth goes dry.
