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(16) Mannequin Carnival

(16) Mannequin Carnival

"No," I said stubbornly, clutching thepiece of Oreo to my chest. Woody sat beside me on the couch, looking at me pleadingly. His ears were pressed firmly against his head, and he was giving me that look again. That look that made me feel weak and just give him the damn cookie. We stared at each other for a while, me trying hard not to give in to his puppy eyes that glint against the light, making them look so shiny and almost teary. "Woody," I whined when I felt my walls crumble. "You've eaten, like, two packs already for the past hour and I haven't even taken a bite yet!"

Woody had been eating and eating and eating a lot of Oreos since yesterday, and I was kind of amazed how he still hadn't gained fifty pounds already. And how he still craved for more. This cookie in my hand that I now pressed securely against my chest? This piece of heaven that so wantonly made my taste buds itchy? That not even a single crumb had landed on my tongue since yesterday? It was the last piece. The Last Oreo.

And now, he who had so wantonly consumed its ancestors was taking it from me? Like, no way. Where's the justice in that? But Woody was giving me those eyes again, and I felt myself caving in.

No, Niall, control yourself.

But I just . . . "Okay, fine," I huffed, giving him the cookie. He happily took it from my hand and nibbled on it. "You owe me one, buddy," I told him, turning to look at the telly again.

To be honest, I could've just asked Liam hours ago to get me another pack of Oreos. But he was already gone by the time I thought of it. Just after lunch he had disappeared again, telling me that I "shall witness the true wonders of life." I would be lying if I said I didn't wonder of what corny advertisement he had taken that from , but I didn't stop him.

I couldn't have, anyway. He was gone without waiting for a reply.

Sighing, I stood up and wandered over to the wide window, sitting at the chair. I let out a low chuckle at the thrash bin by the edge of the sink, overflowing with the blue Oreo wrappers. My light amusement fueled with the thought of my family.

If Greg was here, that would've been the exact picture of the thrash bin --worse even, counting me in. And then my mother would drone on in an hour-long lecture on how too much sugar can cause diabetes that could lead to the amputation of your legs. But then she'd say, "Are those even worth having your limbs cut off?" She would take bite, 'tasting' it, and instantly falls in love with. Then we would eat all the remaining Oreos together, laughing and grinning as if we were children.

Yeah, that was how my family worked.

And the thought pushed a sad smile through my lips. I looked out at the night sky. The luminous moon shone brightly like a gigantic pearl, along with the stars that twinkled against the blackness of the sky, like diamond against velvet.

A movement flashed on the table beside me, and I didn't have to turn to know that it was Woody. He was healing exceptionally fast, Liam had said, and now he could climb to the chair and from it spring himself on top of the table. I raised my arm and ran them along his silky fur, feeling a few crumbs of Oreo by his whiskers.

"Do you miss your family, Woody?" I asked quietly, not breaking my view of the sky. "I bet they were lovely." I must've looked stupid talking to a raccoon, but it didn't feel like it. Having Woody here, having °anybody° here, to express my feelings to sent a warmth to my lungs. "I definitely miss mine," I continued, sighing. It felt good letting it out, voicing it out loud. It's as if my innards were dug out and replaced with light cotton.

Tears stung my eyes, and I huffed, willing them away. Damn it. I hate being so emotional. And then there was a knock on the door, pulling me out of my gloom. Gulping an ounce off breath to ease myself, I got up and opened it.