Run With Me ➵ Newt [2]

SIX | the tattoos

▬It was hot. So hot.

I sat on the edge of my sofa in my house, my legs sticky with sweat. I fanned myself, but even the faint breeze generated from the movement felt warm and suffocating. 

Dad was hunched over the dining table, his head hung low so that his messy blond hair hid his face from view. Mom was busy preparing us dinner - plain rice and vegetables again, no doubt - her wavy dark hair tied up into a ponytail to keep them from making her neck sweat. She bustled around the kitchen, beads of perspiration pouring down her face.

Sick and tired of the heat, I got up from the couch and trotted over to the window, where I glanced outside. The windows were boarded up - dad said it was to keep us safe from 'the infected' - but I peeked through the tiny gap and stared at shadows passing by our house, their silhouttes blurry and mesmerising. Sunlight filtered through the gaps and made me squint, my bright, curious eyes lighting up in the warm glow.

"Audrey, get away from the window!" Dad yelled suddenly. He was no longer hunched over but now sat up straight, his eyes boring into mine angrily.

I backed away from the windows quickly, my eyes wide with fear.

"S-Sorry," I muttered.

I glanced to my mom expectantly - if she felt generous, she would defend me and tell my dad to stop acting so harsh - but she ignored us both, still chopping up the sad, wilted vegetables. 

I retreated to the couch and huddled there, sulking. I was still too short, so my legs dangled inches above the floor as I sat. Bored, I started pulling at the fabric of the couch, the thin, worn-out threads coming apart easily.

Finally, dinner was ready. I heard the familiar clinking of porcelain plates hitting the wooden table, and I forced myself over to my parents, who were already sat there, poking at their rice half-heartedly. I climbed onto my chair and stared down at my lame excuse for a dinner dejectedly, eyeing the old vegetables pieces and plain white rice with distaste.

Mom would have cooked more, but since the Flares ruined our planet and cast us all into a wasteland, it was getting harder and harder these days to obtain fresh produce and proteins to consume. So we stuck to old veges and plain rice.

That was when we heard the knock. It sounded demanding, had an insistent, threatening tone behind it. 

My dad leaped to his feet immediately, nearly toppling over his chair. My mom beckoned me over to her quickly and I scooted into her open arms as my dad went over to the door to investigate the sudden noise.

"Who's there?" He called out tersely.

"Open up!" A muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

My dad crept to the door and opened it a millimetre - before he could peer outside to see who it was, the door burst open, nearly slamming into him. My mom clutched me tighter, hugging my small frame as she stared with wide eyes at the newcomers. Three figures marched into the room, two of them pointing their guns around. I shrieked and buried my head in my mom's chest, who scrambled off her chair and stepped back nervously.

"We mean you no harm," the tall man in front said. He had silky black hair that was cut short and he had the look of a stern leader about him. He held no gun. "Let me introduce ourselves. We are from WICKED headquarters - which I'm sure you've know all about - and you have been ignoring our messages and warnings for weeks now. We have no choice but to take away your child for our experiments. It is the only way we can find a cure for the Flare."