Page 3 of The Cousins and the Brunette

“Think we’ll find anything good?” Kay asked.

“I hope so.” I faintly smiled at her, stepping inside.

The interior was dark and musty. I scanned the room, taking in the rows of rusted shelves and abandoned machinery.

“Stay close,” I instructed, moving cautiously through the space.

Kay nodded, her footsteps echoing mine.

“Check the shelves, Kay. Sometimes people hide things here.”

“Got it,” she said, already rifling through the clutter.

“Good girl.”

Every instinct told me to stay vigilant, to be ready for anything. We were two sisters playing a twisted version of hide and seek, where the prize was survival and the penalty for losing was... well, I didn’t want to think about that.

“Brynn!” Kay’s excited whisper made me startle. “I found something!”

“Show me,” I said, hurrying to her side.

She held up a small, unopened can of soup, a rare find in these parts. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

I smiled wider, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You did good, Kay.”

“Thanks.” She beamed, her smile a beacon of hope in the darkness.

“Let’s keep looking. We might find more.”

I focused on my careful inspection of an old cabinet. The familiar ache of hunger gnawed at my stomach, reminding me why we were here. Scavenging wasn’t glamorous, but it kept us alive. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all life had in store for us—an endless cycle of searching for scraps.

“Brynn? Why do you always have to be so cynical all the time?” she asked softly.

Her question hit a nerve. Cynical? More like realistic. But I couldn’t bring myself to crush her optimism. It was one of the few things we had left.

“Experience,” I mumbled, finally finding a hidden stash of canned goods.

Yes! This would last us a week or two.

In a broken shard of glass, I caught my reflection. The girl staring back at me had sharp green eyes, eyes that seemed far too old for twenty-one years. Long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail framed a face streaked with grime and etched with determination. My practical, dark clothing clung to my athletic build, chosen for protection rather than style.

I barely recognized myself anymore. The streets had a way of changing you, molding you into something harder, colder. But as long as Kay was safe, I could live with the person I’d become.

It was exhausting, always being the strong one, always having to make the tough decisions. But what choice did I have? In this world, you either fought or you died. And I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Brynn, what’s wrong?” Kay’s voice sounded small.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how we got here,” I admitted. “Our so-called family who couldn’t care less if we lived or died.”

The sharpness in my voice surprised even me. But the memories of rejection still stung, reminding me how alone we truly were.

Kay nodded. “Like Aunt Mira and Uncle John?”

The injustice of it all burned in my chest. How could they sleep at night, knowing we were out here struggling to survive?

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