-Chapter 2-

Part 8

The man looked at me. He sat down folding his hands together. He was silent for several long minutes as the light flickered above us.

    "Alright....I apologize....I should respect your decision. Though in my opinion it's foolish still", he said.

    "Keep it to yourself", I muttered, "I don't want to hear it", I added.

    He sighed frustrated, "I might as well ask, what's your name?", he asked.

    "Vic", I replied.

    "And your full name?", he inquired.

    I frowned rolling my eyes, "Victoria Miles. But I prefer Vic", I replied.

    "Why? Was that your jail name?", he asked.

    I shook my head eyes softening, "No...it was....the nickname my parents gave me", I said.

    Ouch. I nailed him where it hurt. Caught him off guard with that honest response.

    "What's your's?", I asked quietly.

    "Michelle", he replied.

    I nodded, "Okay.....guess I' have to take your word for it", I mumbled.

    "You still don't believe me?", he asked frowning.

    "It's more that I don't want to. Just like I still am hoping this is all just a freaking nightmare and that I'll wake back up in my cell bars in front on my face and locked in", I said.

    "I'm afraid it's not", said Michelle.

    "No.....it's not", I whispered. "It's wishful thinking I suppose", I said even quieter.

    "If you intend to try and alter this situation how would you do it?", he asked.

    "I don't know! You think I think these things through damnit!", I snapped.

    I shut my mouth. Man was I easily ticked off. "Sorry", I muttered. "Jail vocabulary", I mumbled embarrassed.

    "Let's make a deal then, every time you swear you have to tell me one thing about you", he said.

    "I don't gain anything dumba**", I said frowning.

    "Then everytime I try and throw my beliefs on you I need to tell you something about myself", he said.

    "Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?", I asked. I shook my head, "No, every time you try to mess with my beliefs and ridicule my ideals you are going to have to swear", I said.

    "Absolutely not that's vulgar!", replied the man.

    "Then I'm not doing it birdbrain", I said.

    "Quit calling me birdbrain!", he snapped.

    "You're a Jacka** all the same", I replied.

    "Stop", he warned.

    "A**hole", I stated.

    "Alright fine! Christ! Quit calling me those names!", he hissed. He looked at me, "You owe me three things", he said.

    "Ugh! Fine...you really were serious about this", I huffed. This was going to be great. I could lie. But this guy would probably know within two seconds. He was apparently Mr. Goody-goody- two-shoes.

    "I have been a toddler. I've been a teenager. And I am an adult",  I said.

    He groaned, "That wasn't what I meant", he said.

    I yawned, falling silent. It still hurt everywhere and now I was exhausted.

    He sighed, "You can take the bed", he said gesturing to the couch.

    "Nah...couldn't sleep anyways", I said.

    Michelle fell silent, "Does it hurt that badly?", he asked quietly.

    "It comes and goes in intensity, sometimes it hurts more here...here....here....here", I said gesturing to my arm, chest, head and gut.

    "Other times it's less in one and more in another", I replied.

    "I'm afraid I can't do much to help you", he said.

    "Didn't ask for it", I replied. "Didn't expect you to want to help me, you wanted me dead", I muttered. I was still ticked off about that. And was not going to let it go anytime soon.

    "I wanted you dead because you were a sinner. You are a sinner. Once all the sins have been repaid for this will all end", said Michelle.

    "You're going to have to keep killing then", I said standing and pushed back the chair walking over to the two in one couch.

    I laid down groaning, "You'd be surprised what people are capable of doing when their survival depends on it", I said. "People get lost at sea in lifeboats. Eat eachother eventually. Some will be mad enough to drink the salt water and go delirious. Another will brave the waters of sharks to make to some far off shore miles and miles away and far out of sight. We'd do anything to live a little longer in desperate situations. Because all we want is to get out of them alive", I said.

    "At least you're doing something....it might only be the second best thing since it's the wrong thing...but at least you're doing something", I said.

    "What's the best thing?", he asked.

    "Doing the right thing you Fu-", I stopped myself groaning and lay my head in the pillow.

    "This is going to be way f***ing harder than I thought", I mumbled.

    "One", he counted.

    "Shut up", I mumbled hugging my stomach as it flared up again.

    "It's only going to get worse", he said.

    "Telling me that isn't helping Mike!", I snapped.

    He smirked, "Did you just call me Mike?", he asked.

    "I know your name starts with an 'M' I forgot it. Sorry for being human pal", I muttered.

    "It's not that I care what you call me as long as it's not disrespectful", he sighed standing.

    "Then Mike it is", I said annoyed.

    "Do you want anything?", he asked.

    I didn't respond. I just tensed tucking my knees together to my chest. My cheeks were tight and eyes snapped shut as I shook sweating again. Even in this cold house where there was no warmth I was starting to sweat.

    "You are fighting a losing battle. I need to understand why", he said.

    "Same answer as before...I promised. It ain't changing", I said.

    He sat down on the pulled out spring mattress carefully. He turned my head slightly placing his palm on my forehead.

    "You're burning a fever", he said.

    "I feel like sh**", I said.

    "Two", he said.

    "Ugh....you are taking this too seriously, but fine, I'm sick with a fever, and I.....I like the color yellow", I muttered.

    "Do you now?", asked Mike.

    "What? Did you think I'd say red or black? Jesus you're so stereotypical. Thanks", I muttered.

    "I meant no offense, I was only confirming", replied Mike.

    "Mm-hm...Oof! Pft!", I rolled over away from him curled holding my stomach and chest. I groaned not noticing as Mike's hand fell on my arm.

    "Your looking at me like you pity me. What happened to the guy who was ready to pop one in me?", I groaned.

    "I'm afraid that same man also has a responsibility to assist people in pain", he said. "Though I can't do much other than console", he said.

    He smiled a small smile, "If Raphael were here he'd know what to do. He's much better at this sort of thing than I am", he said. "I'm more adept to fighting in combat rather than healing the wounded", he added softly.

    "Yeah, but you run out of bullets way too fast. Can barely hit your mark", I mumbled.

    He chuckled, "What do you know about warfare? Can you shoot a gun?", he asked.

    "Don't want to talk about it", I said.

    "Aren't you just all secretive and suspicious", he huffed.

    "It's just a touchy topic. I don't like to boast about it, so drop it", I snapped but groaned harshly again as I felt sick to my stomach again.

    "I'm sorry...I meant no offense", he said. He glanced at me, "I was just curious since you saved my life twice now....the second time. You thought on your feet far quicker than the average person would", he said.

    "And I....thank you", he said softly leaning forward.

    "Hey! Just because I saved your life doesn't mean I need a kiss. I don't even deserve thanks. Just consider it even now", I said.

    Mike blinked, "Sorry...I thought....I...", his voice trailed off awkwardly.

    "Hell, I don't care. The world is nuts anyways", I muttered closing my eyes.

    Mike watched as I grew still and silent. He got up moving the blanket over. He stared for a while and then backed away going back to the dining room table. He stared into the open air. His eyes hard. He didn't understand. No one understood what was going on. That's normal. But also dangerous.