Chapter 5

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Unexpected Consequences


A hole.

A big ass hole.

That fucking monster, creature, whatever you wanna call it, broke down my wall.

The stones from the fireplace scattered around. The logs from the cabin wall in pieces.

I looked at Damien, furious. "This isn't my fault." He protested.

"Tsk." Is all that left my mouth because it was, it was his fault. All of this was his fucking fault.

I walked around, looking for anything worth salvaging. Most of it was wrecked.

I studied the wall, thinking of ways I can fix it when he opened his stupid mouth.

"You can't fix it. Even if you put up a tarp or something it would draw attention."

What do I do? I can't fix it, I know that. Log cabins are a masterpiece and I'm no craftsman.

A sigh escaped me as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Frustrated with everything that's happened so far, I didn't even notice Damien grab his stuff.

"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" It came out angrier than I meant it.

"Moving on." He said as he draped his backpack over one shoulder.

"And what about this?" I gestured to the mess before us. He shrugged. "Not my problem."

I was gobsmacked. "How isn't this your problem?," He shifted from one foot to another while sighing. "you need shelter too."

"I can find it elsewhere."

The audacity of this man.

He is infuriating.

"And how long will that take? Days? Weeks?"

He sighed again. "It doesn't matter."

With that he started to walk. "Wait wait wait," I said as I tailed him, stumbling over the rubble. "you can't just leave me here."

"Look, I appreciate the medicine and stitches but I'm leaving. This mess is your responsibility." He said, turning once more to walk away.

I grabbed the back of his jacket and he paused. "What am I gunna do? I'm not safe here anymore. Bleu's not safe here. We could get raided or killed," My pitch began to rise with every word, anxiety flooding my insides.

He didn't look at me or pull away, but I could tell he was listening intently.

"I'm coming with you." I was still clutching his jacket when he turned halfway towards me, his head turned to the side.

"I'm not a babysitter, I don't need your blood on my conscience. If you want to leave, leave of your own volition but I travel alone." His tone was firm but calm, there was a hint of sadness in his words. Something etching to the surface masquerading as bluntness.

"I don't need your permission." He sighed, dropping his head and rubbing his eyes as I had earlier.

"If you or your dog get in my way, you're on your own. Got it?" I nodded profusely, honestly surprised by the outcome.

I collected my things, shoving as much in my backpack as I could. It started to settle in that I wouldn't visit this room again. The room I journaled in, the room I slept safely with Bleu at my side. The room my mother and father once occupied on our yearly vacations.

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