Growing Wildflowers | WLW

Begonia

"I fucking hate you, you know that?" Gunner's sitting in a lawn chair with his feet kicked up on the porch railing. A gnat flies around his head as he chews the tobacco he tucked in his lip. I follow the gnat with my eyes, grinding my teeth as the buzzing rattles my brain.

"I don't care. You know that?"

He shakes his head. "I'd kill you if it wouldn't break my dad's heart."

"Why did you want to bond with her anyway?"

He spits over the porch railing. "None of your goddamn business."

I roll my eyes and push to my feet. "Sounds rapey."

He drops his feet with a thud and leans forward. "Is that why you finished her off? You felt bad for her?" He shakes his head. "When are you going to grow up and shed those human emotions? They're food, Gwen."

"You left a bloody woman next to a newborn," I argue. "Do the math." I push through the front door of the cabin before he can respond.

Bri is sleeping despite the sun streaming through our torn curtains. She's good at sleeping in the day; something I haven't mastered even though John lectures me about how much safer it is on a weekly basis.

I sit on the edge of my twin sized cot, let out a sigh, and dig my fingers into my temples. Gunner's right. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. If I don't get a grip on my guilt every time we feed, I'll be executed in front of a panel of the elders for being a defective blood sucker.

"Something wrong?" Bri's sitting up, squinting through her drowsiness.

"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." If she doesn't rest, she won't be alert when it's time for her to keep watch.

She lies back and pulls a pillow into her chest. "You and Gunner going at it again?"

My lips pull into a smile. "How'd you guess?"

"I don't know how you guys manage to coexist."

I chuckle. "We don't."

Gunner and I have never gotten along. Even our physical appearances are so different. While I still put time into my appearance, I haven't seen Gunner shower since I met him. He keeps his hair buzzed and lets his beard grow past his chest, but I try to maintain what I looked like when I was human. I've never done much with my hair; usually tuck the red-brown strands into a ponytail or bun. My hair's not orange enough to get me called a ginger and not brown enough to be called brunette. I've never worn makeup, but my mom instilled a solid skin care regimen into me when I was still in middle school. Even though I probably don't have to shower as often, the smell of body wash takes me back in time; it takes me home.

Before I can start spiraling through memories of the past, John's booming voice echoes from the porch.

"What the hell happened last night?"

He knows. I've never heard him shout like this before.

"It was Gwen's fault!" Gunner yells back.

There's a single beat of silence before John calls my name.

Bri is sitting up again, staring at me with wide eyes.

I feel like a child as I slink through the front door and find John staring at me, his jaw tense as he grinds his teeth. "What. Happened. Gwen."

I swallow hard. I've never been afraid of John, but I've never seen him so angry either.

He slams his palm into the door frame. "Where were you, Gwen? How did you let one get away?"

"I got distracted by Gunner's kill." My words are pushed together like if I blurt the answer out fast enough it will soothe some of his rage.