Desolation ✔️

Chapter 14: Clarity

Another night approaches, marking day who-knows-what into this ginormous disaster that's just as bleak as it appears. Night two with Ash. Night five-thousand (or so it feels) without Carter. So many nights marking the painful reminders of what life will never be again: peaceful. Happy. Beautiful. But while tonight marks another night being trapped under the stars with a broken world and walking dead, it also marks my first night sleeping at a boy's house. My parents would flip right now. Too bad I'll never have the chance to engage in that argument with them.

"I'm such a bad person." My voice sounds hollow. My words slur, but I haven't had a single drink. Fatigue tugs at my eyelids, but I don't want to sleep tonight. Sleep leads to nightmares I'd rather not have, memories I'd rather forget. So many deaths, so much blood, too much numbness. My head pounds from it all.

"That makes two of us." Ash steps over my backpack to pass me a steamy mug of coffee. I'm surprised he actually listened. Earlier, I voiced how I wanted to pull an all-nighter with caffeine and unwritten stories. Without speaking a word, he heated up a bottle of water in a pot over the stove, the old fashioned way. I can't deny the gesture sparked a warming emotion in me, especially as I watched him stand over the stove with his back towards me. His fresh, dark-gray shirt shifted over his back muscles as he reached into the cupboards, set things down, dug through drawers. From my position on the floor next to the pantry, it was actually a pretty heartwarming sight.

"I don't know, I shouldn't have joined Keilah and Robert's camp to begin with. Maybe they'd still be alive. And then we stole everything they had on them instead of giving them a proper memorial. I mean, they killed themselves. Probably out of hopelessness. And I'm still alive."

"Survivor's guilt. That'll kill you sooner than your already predestined death. It's a waste of time to worry about. You've acknowledged you're a bad person; not much you can do. We might finally be on the same page here."

"Yeah, but I actually care about being a bad person. It makes me feel...disgusting. You on the other hand don't care. You just accept it like it's in your nature."

"Maybe because it is."

I narrow my eyes up at him over my cup. "See? You don't even care. You don't want to change it."

He grabs a bottled water from the table and sits on the kitchen floor across from me. The only light in the kitchen comes from a few candles Ash lit and set up around the counters, table, and floor. The two of us made a mutual agreement to sit on the floor rather than the table in case someone passes by and peers through the windows. At least Ash brought blankets to cushion the wooden floors. "Why should I change a behavior that's keeping me alive?"

The cup burns my hands, but I don't set it down. "Because. What's the point of living if the person you become is only a metaphorical version of the monsters walking the streets right now? Does it really mean anything then? Morality dies with the living and rots with the dead. So even when you're alive, you're still not really winning."

"Holy crap Scarlett, what drugs are you on?"

I glare at him. The orange lights flicker, leaving dark silhouettes beneath his eyes. The corner of his lip tilts up into a smile, making him look a little crazy with a dash of charm. Wonderful. "Don't worry, I didn't steal the secret stash you keep under your bed." I roll my eyes and take a sip of coffee. Wow, he even added sugar and cream to it.

"Oh, so you did prowl through my room. I suspected you might. Too bad the good stuff's not hidden under my bed."

"I didn't prowl through your room. I just walked in and walked out."

Ash's smile widens. "God Scarlett, you're so defensive. I know you didn't rummage through my things. I honestly wouldn't care if you did anyway. There's not much in there. I don't do drugs. That would've been an immediate suspension from the SWAT Team if I did."