Page 48 of Hunt Me
Their separate tins, one each.
They must have so much food if this is what they are eating like on the road. When Ruaridh had said he could get rid of it, something in me had snapped. I’d been so stunned at the start, unsure of what to do or how to react to being offered so much food. The girls and I would share one of these between three of us. But as soon as it was suggested that it be taken away, I’d snapped out of it all and came to my senses.
Now I can feel my eyes drooping, sleepy with my overindulgence. I try to smother my yawn, but it doesn’t work, and Ruaridh notices straight away.
‘Here,’he says, moving across from where he is sat to get closer to me.
I blink up at him now that he is closer, and a soft blanket is placed across my shoulders. Heat prickles inside of me, causing me to feel all kinds of warmth from Ruaridh’s kindness.
Why would a Skull, a supposed group of the worst type of survivors there is, people with a notorious reputation for violence and suffering, be taking care of me, a stranger?
‘Your top is damp from your hair,’Ruaridh states as he cocoons me inside the blanket.
Shoulders being damp had not even come to mind while I was filling my stomach, but now that he’s mentioned it, I am feeling slightly shivery. The air remains cool as the season transitions. It has been getting warmer the further we move away from winter, but it’s still spring in Scotland, and that’s no summer in Spain. Not that I would know what that feels like.
I remember my parents would talk about going on holiday when they had managed to save up enough money for us to go. They’d said they were almost there with it, that we would be able to go in the summer. That summer never came.
I’d give up everything if it meant I could see them again.
My damp hair is pulled from my face, and the sensation of something running through my strands has my mind coming to a standstill. The distinct feeling of a wide-toothed comb slipping through my mostly untangled hair is soothing. And the body of muscle I’ve apparently decided to lean into at some point is responsible for the feeling.
Ruaridh, a big bad Skull, is brushing my hair.
Fuck the apocalypse I think the worlds ending all over again. Either that or I’ve well and truly gone completely insane, and I’ve started dreaming about masked men brushing my hair and feeding me beans.
The worlds all types of crazy but that would be a new one, even for me.
I try to hold off, not to give in to the feeling of comfort, but it’s been a while since I’ve ever felt safe, let alone pampered.
The way to my heart is clearly a tin of sausage and beans, a big blanket, and my hair being played with. Oh, and an orgasm, I guess.
The thought of the shower earlier has me squirming slightly, and instead of thinking there is something wrong or that I am uncomfortable, Ruaridh takes it as some plea to snuggle up onto his lap.
I must be getting delirious with being overfed because I let him manoeuvre me into what he must decide to be a comfortable position. Him leaning his back against the wall with me curled against him. I can’t make out what Ruaridh says, just his gentle mumbles, and I lean into his rumbling chest, listening as the sound of Vish getting up and walking away soothes my sluggish mind. My tiredness takes over as my eyelids finally droop shut, and I drift off to sleep, feeling the most comforted I have since my parents passed.
??
‘She’s half starved. What have you been doing letting her go without like that?’
Two half hushed, but clearly pissed off voices draw me away from my slumber. The girls must be arguing about some shit. I’m too comfortable right now to care; they can sort it out between them.
‘You better watch what yer saying, ya fud. You’re damn lucky that I don’t want to move her to come knock you out you stupid fucker. Do you think I’m that fucked up that I would let her starve whilst we have everything that we do at the stadium. You think that bad of me, Vish?’
I freeze.
Well, freeze as much as a half-asleep woman can, but I do anyway, trying not to give away that I am now awake and remembering what company I am with.
Two Skulls.
There is an uncanny theme with me in this city: waking up in a Skull's arms, and I’m not approving of my own actions pre-falling asleep. Why do I put myself in such, albeit cosy, yet risky positions? And now there are two of them arguing right now.
‘Can you blame me? I walk in on you two, then find that she’s starving, and I’m the—’
‘Watch it,’Ruaridh barks louder now. His hold around me tightens, not in a painful way but as if he is reminding himself that I’m here. Like he is scared I will disappear.
They both fall silent for a moment, and I try my hardest to even out my breathing, trying to replicate the motions of being asleep. Something I’d gotten good at when I was back at the army camp, where they'd patrol between our rooms.
Cool air drifts onto my cheek as a strand of hair I hadn’t realised was there is brushed away and tucked behind my ear. The dampness of my hair as I fell asleep no longer there.
