Chapter Four

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Looking down at herself, Amelia saw all the cuts and scratches along her hands, arms, legs, and on her neck; she shivered. “I look terrible,” Amelia breathed.

“You look beautiful,” Jack responded.

Amelia rolled her eyes, “You have a twisted sense of beauty.”

Jack chuckled lightly, and watched as Amelia washed her face, arms, and legs. Amelia ran a brush through her bloody hair, but it caught in every tangle. “I’m gonna take a shower before we get going in the morning,” Amelia sighed.

“Why not take one now?”

Amelia looked at him like he was insane, “Um, I know you haven’t been here long, but really? Going outside with wet hair is a death sentence, especially since the furnace is barely working.”

“I’m actually surprised its lasted this long.”

Amelia nodded, she could still turn on the TV, but all she could see was static, and all the analog clocks in the house worked-most of the time-but they often flickered on and off. Cell phone reception was sketchy if there was any at all. Soon, there would be nothing left.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” Amelia said, stepping out of the white tiled bathroom and taking and right.

“I’ll come with you.”

Amelia looked at him, “No! I think I can put my pants on without your assistance.”

“You sure about that love?” Jack winked and leaned in.

Amelia rolled her eyes and shoved him away, “Positive, besides I’ve got big bad Rosie-Piper to protect me! Don’t I baby?” After a sharp mew, a black and white cat jumped into Amelia arms. “Awh! Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?” Amelia cooed, scratching her cat’s head.

Jack rolled his eyes.

Amelia set Rosie-Piper down then turned back to Jack, “Go put Buddy on his leash and give him to Brian… I want him to be protected.”

“Who?” Jack asked, “The dog, or your brother?”

“My brother of course-”

“Amelia,” Jack interrupted, “your brother has been remarkably good at holding his own so far, and I don’t think you need to worry about him.”

“Of course I need to worry about him!” Amelia yelled, “He’s my baby brother! I’ll protect him with my life.”

“I know that,” Jack said, his voice hushed, “and there’s nobody here that would doubt that, I just think he-”

“Jack,” Amelia’s voice held warning, “please just do as I say and leash Buddy up.”

Jack let out a breath, not willing to fight Amelia, and turned on his heel to find Buddy. Amelia turned and opened the door to her room, when suddenly she remembered something very important.

She wanted to scream.

She couldn’t find it, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She sat down in the center of her messy room and closed her eyes tightly.

Think,” she willed herself, “remember.”

On the first day of this whole ordeal, she had come home to an all but empty house; the only explanation had been a letter, written in her mother’s cursive.

“Where is it?” She wondered aloud.

“Are you looking for this?”

Amelia spun around to find Andrew standing in her doorway; he was holding a slightly crumpled letter. Stepping forward and closing her door behind him, Andrew held out the letter. Amelia grabbed and read it; it was her mother’s, the one she had been looking for. She bit her lip and tried not to cry as she gently traced her mother’s signature at the bottom; Amelia had contemplated her parents’ motives since day one.

Why would they leave without her or her brother?

Why would they leave the pets?

Amelia didn’t have an answer, she couldn’t bring herself to believe her parents had just left them there with no plans of ever coming back to see if they had made it out alive, but that’s sure what it looked like. Why would they come back, if they left one of their cars in the driveway, fully gassed? Surely they knew if she or her brother came home to find that, they’d leave, right?

Thunder rumbled overhead and Amelia whipped around to look out her window; it was pouring, washing and melting away a good portion of the standing snow.

“Miranda’s dead.”

SurvivalWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu