Blood

The Calm before the Storm (25)

Well, this is a late upload since it has been on hold for awhile to let me think and breath a bit! :P

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All I could do was wait.

Pascal seemed to have no intention of telling me of current affairs, and didn’t seem to be telling anyone else except the usual: Gilbert, Nathan and Vincent.

My irritation for the secretive group was growing, and my confidence in them was diminishing minute by minute, making me very tense. My fingers drummed on my knees repetitively, and Justine was becoming increasingly aware of my unease, glancing at me regularly. I was sorely tempted to tell her everything, but Monique insisted that we tell no one for the time being.

Monique was always present now. She didn’t retreat to her usual position in my unconscious thought, but remained with me at all times, listening to my thoughts and sharing her own.

To be honest, I also found that rather irritating. To begin with, her constant train of thought charging through my head was interesting, even amusing at times but now. It was just making my skin prickle. Words, images and sounds flittered from her consciousness to mine, mixing with my own, and making it incredibly hard to think.

I glanced up at the sky, my fingers subconsciously scratching at my skin, and stared at the darkening sky. It had just gone midday where we had shared a simple meal of bread and dried meat, but the skies were filled with black clouds making it seem like evening.

I wasn’t sure if it was common to have storms at this time of year but then again, I wasn’t even sure what month it was. In my mental calendar, I thought it had to be late February, but I was probably wrong by a week or two.

“A storm is coming.”

I almost didn’t hear the barely audible voice of Justine who seldom spoke without provocation. She was sat beside me, an abandoned shirt on her knees, and a needle spinning around in her left hand as she fiddled with it. Like me, she wore a tatty shirt and skirt with an over-sized navy blue coat resting on her shoulders, mine being a dark brown one. A weary look was settled in her green eyes, and a strand of her curly red hair had teased loose of the maroon-coloured hat she was wearing which now blew freely in the quickening wind.

I nodded in agreement, and began to gather up the clothes I had been patching-up with her.

Justine followed suite, and as we packed away the clothes, the rain became heavier.

Chucking the bags under the truck, everybody else began to pack away and bustle about as the drizzle became full on rain.

Coralie, Leah and David erected a large tent made out of several sheets of canvas, helped by some of the most impatient of our group, and soon everyone was sat under the tent watching the rain fall.

To my great annoyance, none of The Four (as I had named them) decided to grace us with their presence, and soon I found myself sat with my back against Leah’s, flipping through the pages of an old book. The tattered cover was a faded blue with Les Misérables printed on it in faded gold script along with ‘Victor Hugo’ under that. The pages were ripped in places, stains littered all over them, and the book gave the impression that it had been lost and found many times over the course of years.

“That’s a complicated read,” Leah voiced, peeking over my shoulder.

“What’s it about?” I asked, looking at the back of the book which was mostly too faded to be able to read.