𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

22. murdering murderers. (pt.1.)

T W E N T Y - T W O
murdering murderers.

Tonight's colder than it has been the past few nights, the gentle chilly breeze makes me hug my arms around my waist as I set a quick pace.

I'd be hopelessly lost, wandering to every corner of the island, if it weren't for JJ, whom I invited over in the complete spur of the moment – the words came out before I could stop them, a blurted question I wanted to shove back in my mouth the second he looked confused. I told myself, in those few seconds we sat alone on the verandah, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, that it was sympathy, but the more I thought the less I believed myself.

It's well past midnight, the moon is set high in the sky and I enjoy the twinkling lights that are splattered across the navy sky. My Mum will no doubt be fast asleep, she's always been someone who goes to bed early and wakes up earlier, especially after such an emotionally charged day. JJ can sneak out before my mother's alarm, or when she's in the shower, her morning has always followed a strict schedule, so I'll find a space and get him to jump out the window and climb down the tree.

I've warned JJ a good few times that I'm sure the house will be in a state of disarray, with the hurried move and thick coat of dust covering everything, it's not going to be pristine. He reminded me of the fact his house is far from a picture-perfect, display home people marvel at, but lacks any real personality. His house definitely has a distinct personality. Takes after Luke.

We walk down the empty streets, hearing the odd domestic. The dim lighting makes me watch every step, I peeled off the dinosaur plasters so I'm one trip away from sepsis.

My mind toys with the thought that JJ may be part homing pigeon, because all I had to do was describe what my new house looked like and he said he knew the perfect shortcut that would cut the walk in half.

I glance over to the blond boy, walking right next to me, having tripped about five minutes ago he's currently picking small stones out of his hands, looking very concentrated.

"Whatcha thinking about?" I ask, taking a step away from JJ to stomp on a crunchy leaf, enjoying it way too much. The satisfaction will never cease.

He dusts his hands together before dropping them back to his sides. "Nothing much. Just how great I'd do in a zombie apocalypse," he glances up at the sky, puffs of clouds obscure the view of some of the stars.

"You think you'd do well?" I ask, my lip quirking up in amusement; not because I think he'd do badly, just because boy's thoughts never cease to astound me, it really is lights are out and no one's home.

"Oh, I know I'd do well," he looks at me, his head tips with a firm nod. "Mabel, I'm built for a zombie apocalypse," he states, confidence drips from every word.

I crash my trainers down on another unsuspecting leaf. "Well, I for one, would shoot myself in the head day one. Apocalyptic disaster situations would not be for me," I decide.

He scoffs, "You'd be fine."

"I'd be constantly bricking it. Not to mention I'd be fucked without my medication," I look at him, with a dim, flickering street light the only source of illumination he looks different than normal. Although I think ten minutes of sobbing doesn't help, that's probably more the reason.

"I'd get you your medication– it'd be easy, abduct a chemist, get them to mix it up Breaking Bad style. Bada bing, bada boom, no depression for you," he recites an actually not that badly thought out plan, but still without any legs to stand on. "We should watch Breaking Bad, think you'd like it. You'd probably think the main guy's good looking, you seem to think every man over fifty is hot– a little concerning considering, well... a lot of things."