OTHERS (Formerly The Scarlet Effect)

6 - R E T U R N

I don't know when morning actually arrives due to the lack of windows, but I wake to Emmie's voice as she attempts to get Travis's attention, who's sound asleep below her and out of reach. I take it upon myself to get up and help her.

I scoot out of bed, let the ache of my feet set in, and move over to her bedside in the darkness. "Hey, Emmie," I whisper. She holds her breath, but I encourage her to grab onto me so I can lift her down. "Let him sleep."

She doesn't speak, but I feel her hands crawl up my arms, so I scoop her right up and set her on the ground. Keeping hold of her hand, I lead her to the kitchen and switch on a lamp at the little table for some light.

After she sits, I turn to the cabinets and scan the food options. For breakfast, I undo the top of a can of peaches, grab two plastic forks from the drawer, and go join her. As my hunger hits me, I stab away at as many juicy slices as I can and shove them into my mouth, savoring every sweet bite.

Emmie doesn't budge in her chair and sits quietly, not even bothering to pick up the fork.

"Aren't you going to have some?" I ask, and pause my binge eating episode to listen to her answer.

She shakes her head, but something about the minimal furrow of her brow tells me she wants some. So I smile at her innocent brown eyes and say, "You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the whole day?"

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

I nod. "Totally, so you should have some." I offer the fork. "Unless you don't like peaches. There's other stuff in there like pineapple and cherries or more Pop-Tarts. It's up to you."

I watch Emmie consider her choices for a moment with pursed lips, causing her cute dimples to appear. "Well, I've never had pineapple before," she says shyly.

I stand and scour the cabinet for a can of the yellow fruit and set it on the table for her to view. "Want to try some?"

She analyzes the picture and shrugs. "Okay."

I pop open the can and return to chowing down the rest of the peaches. Once Emmie sticks her fork into the pineapple and nibbles on it, I have practically finished the entire can, and almost immediately go for another, but stop and opt for a bottle of water instead. I remember my mom telling me that rationing is key to long-lasting survival.

Emmie makes a sour face upon her first bite; her eyes and lips squinch up tight in reaction to the taste, giving me the perfect opportunity to ask her opinion. "So what do you think? Do you like—?"

I spin around to see Travis scrambling out of his bunk, fumbling to make the bed with unusual speed. He rapidly tucks in the sheets along every edge and corner, ensuring they are precisely flattened with a swipe of his hand. My eyebrows sink down toward my nose as Emmie and I watch him go through the cycle.

Suddenly he freezes as if someone's clicked pause. His arms fall slack and he presses a hand to his face, seeming frustrated or confused. Probably both. "Well that was a dream," Travis murmurs, and peeks his head around to look wearily at Emmie and I. "These beds remind me of boot camp," he confesses awkwardly. "So much so that I dreamed about it."

I don't say anything, just simply take in the information and continue to sip on my water.

Once Travis has completely snapped out of his ways, he eyes my water bottle and meets us in the kitchen area. I grab one for him, set it on the table, and he guzzles the thing dry in seconds. "I'm going to go take a walk."

A walk? He's stepping out of the shelter on day two? So much for why did you ever leave?

No way am I going to dictate what he can or can't do, so I grab the keys without giving a verbal response and pop open each lock. As I do, Travis converses with Emmie; he asks how she's doing and if she slept well. Normal small talk. When I finish, he grabs his gun from the table and gives me a guarded look, as if to say don't follow me, and slowly ascends the steps. I try ignoring his expression, however I can't help but wonder what he meant by it.