“Who says you can’t have fun during the end of the world?” I think to myself as I skip up a hill in the middle of night. 

Sure, a deranged man covered in mud had tried to kill me  a few seconds ago, but I killed him first and I got his hat. So all in all I’d place that under the positive experiences column. Wait, did I just say that having to kill another human being was something I’d call a positive experience? That’s not what I meant. Well, it’s not exactly what I meant. Obviously killing him was a terrible thing to do but in my defence he did attempt to gut me like a fish. Shame he wasn’t quick enough. The fact that I came out of a situation where I could have been gutted like a fish with a free hat is what makes this a positive experience. I turned trash into treasure. Death into a hat. When the world has reached the state it’s currently in, you have to make sure to appreciate these small victories, because they are few and far between. 

As I leave the forest, more stylish than I came into it, I am faced with a large neighbourhood. It has a lot more houses intact than most places around here. But it also has a constant pungent smell of dead bodies covered in faeces. Maybe that’s why you don’t see too many people living here. I’d suggest relocating here to Khalil but he’d probably say something about this being a ‘bad area’ to live in . But like, look around pal, everywhere’s a bad area to live nowadays. I swear he’s really paranoid, you’d think he wouldn’t be, considering how much of his life he’s spent on the streets. He should be more used to needless violence in a neighbourhood. Whatever, he’s a pretty smart guy so  I guess it’s good for me to listen to him every once in a while, he’s been on the streets longer than I ever was - and that’s saying something. 

I look further into the neighbourhood and see scavengers and bike gangs scattered across it. Just your average everyday people, nobody to worry about here. Wait, no. I’m wrong. Definitely someone to worry about here. Unless I’m mistaken, next to that first house with an address plate on the side of it is…….. Declan O’Gallagher. 

The dreaded one. Blonde hair, ugly messy eyebrows, a very strangely shaped big crooked nose that’s weirdly cute in a way - it has to be him. And he’s got his group of loverboys surrounding him. 

I hide in a bush, hoping to God he doesn’t see me. Thankfully he doesn’t. I wonder what he’s up to? I squint my eyes, trying to make out whatever they’re doing in the distance. 

One of the group members is made to dance from side to side as Declan shoots bullets around his feet. Some form of torture and/or bonding game, hmm, interesting. Declan looks like he’s having fun with it, sadistic bastard. The more the man panics and his lackey’s encourage him, the more Declan laughs maniacally. Declan shoots at the man's foot more until he gets him. The man drops to the floor but Declan continues to shoot his foot, laughing as he bleeds out.  Jesus Christ, you’d think he was trying out to be the next Joker. To think I might not live to see the next Joker. I miss cinema’s. 

 

Declan grows bored of the game and walks away from the neighbourhood. His lackey’s follow him. Thank God. I really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with the O'Gallagher gang. To think me and Declan used to be friends. To think he used to be part of the old gang back in the day. Along with Elena, Tyrel, Khalil and all the others. Declan and Khalil. Khalil and Declan. They hate each other now. To the point where I think either would happily blow up the world just to guarantee the other was as dead as dead. I think it’s because Khalil’s brother Tyrel shot his sister then Declan destroyed Tyrel’s grave in revenge? Or did Khalil fuck Declan’s sister, which made Declan shoot Tyrel and piss on his grave afterwards? I can never remember, all I know is they hate each other's guts. Shit, what was I doing out here again? Oh yes that’s right, going to see my uncle!

I go into the neighbourhood, gun in hand. Have to make sure you’re always prepared as Isabelle says. Wish I didn’t have to make this trip all of the time. But considering all the shit we go through, it’s best my uncle stays where he is, I just need to make sure he’s still healthy and has enough rations every once in a while. It’s a good system, and sometimes I actually enjoy the trips. I’m surprised he’s still knocking about, you’ll struggle to find anyone over the age of forty still alive after the mist, yet he’s still going at sixty-something. What a trooper. Must be their Austin family genes. Let’s hope I’m as lucky. 

I go through the main part of the neighbourhood and go towards a semi-underground area which leads to another series of grungy households. Uncle’s is five doors down on the right. We’ve never had a good relationship, my uncle and I. Well, to be honest we never had much of a relationship at all which all in all is better than the relationship I had with my aunt. Uncle used to just sit there and do nothing, drink all day, and act like he was already dead. That’s probably what he’s doing right now. 

I turn around a dark corner and reach his house. The barricades that usually block the door are placed in an awkward position. Like someone who wasn’t supposed to be here came in but left and tried to make it look like they were never there. Not good. I remove the barricades, open the worn down red door and enter the house. As I walk through the house, the pungent smell that had been circling around the neighbourhood grows stronger and stronger. What the hell happened here? Was my Uncle cooking fried shit or something? I try and make my way through the mould-ridden walls of the hallway as quickly as possible as I go towards the living room. Jesus Christ, the smell is only getting worse. The house is frighteningly quiet and more damp and wet than usually. 

“Uncle Bradley?” I call. “You okay in there?”. I’m met with no answer. I open the door for the living room and step inside. As I fully enter the room I’m faced with exactly what I was worried about. My elderly Uncle Bradley, sitting on the couch, as dead as they come. His shrivelled old body sits upright, pale and grey. Not a single motion of movement throughout it, apart from the blood that leaks from his eyes. 

“Mist finally caught up to you, old man.” I mutter to myself, trying my hardest not to get emotional. 

An unfamiliar sense of shock and worry ripples throughout my body. My body feels weak, as if my emotions inside me were actually physical and have started to slowly rot.  I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t like it. I might be overreacting right? Who says he’s dead? Lots of people bleed from the eyes and survive. I walk over him to check his pulse. Nevermind. He’s gone, I can’t believe he’s gone. I just realised what that means. I’m the last one. I’m the last member of the Austin family alive. I’m alone. I’m truly all alone. Holy fuck that’s a depressing thought!

It takes me a while to snap out of my trance and consciously realise I’ve been doing nothing but blankly stare at my uncle’s dead body for the past five minutes. I should probably go home now. 

An hour or so mindlessly goes by and I find myself back in the house, sat on a couch that’s as tired and depressed as I am. Khalil, Cameron and Isabelle all sit around me, making their best attempts to awkwardly console me. Khalil tries the most, his arm wrapped around me as he attempts to make sympathetic eye contact. Cameron also kind of makes an effort but is too anxious to properly look me in the eye as he twiddles his thumbs. Isabelle looks to be trying the least, her attention half-directed at me and half-directed at the notebook on her lap. In a way I respect her the most. She’s not very good with emotions so she doesn’t even try. She does briefly look up towards me in concern, though.  

“Grace, we’re so sorry” she says. 

“It’s fine” I respond. 

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” asks Cameron. I shake my head and sigh.

“It was bound to happen sometime soon, he was old as shit.” I say, trying my best to come across as unbothered as possible. I don’t think they’re buying it though. 

I see Isabelle scribble down a collection of numbers into her notebook. She looks up to me once more. 

“Wait, how old was he exactly?” she asks. 

“I don’t know, about sixty-one I think?” I respond. 

“About sixty-one?” she asks, sounding slightly annoyed. “Do you have an exact figure?”

“Isabelle.” reprimands Khalil. He gives her a dirty look. She shakes her head and sighs. 

“Sorry Grace” she apologises. 

“Guys, stop worrying, it really isn’t that deep.” I insist. Come on, just buy it already. I appreciate them trying to make me feel better, but honestly I’d much rather forget about it completely. They say you can’t hide away from your problems but I think I do it just fine. If only these three would let me. Khalil clears his throat to speak. 

“Grace, you don’t have to pretend you don’t care. It’s incredibly hard losing someone you love, If you want I-”

“I don’t love him” I interrupt. 

The others look at me in shock, especially Khalil. He clenches his jaw slightly. He has a really nice jaw come to think of it. He’s like a half-black Superman, not just because of his jawline, but because of his annoyingly supportive nature too.

“What do you mean you don’t love him?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I mean. He was your uncle after all.” adds Cameron. 

“The same Uncle who used to stand idly by when my Aunt felt like using my body as a stress toy, or a punching bag or even an ashtray sometimes?” I blurt out. 

That seems to shut them right up. Obviously I was exaggerating about how much I didn’t love him. I really did in a way. But I wasn’t exaggerating about the stuff with my Aunt. Aunt Irene was a terrible woman and Uncle Bradley did nothing but stay out of her way whenever she had a problem with me. So in a way, maybe I’m glad he’s dead? Who am I kidding. This is fucking awful. I’m the last Austin left. 

I look around the room, basking in the awkward silence. I accidentally make uncomfortable eye contact with Khalil again. Actually, I should probably talk about it with him. When his brother died he was the last in his family alive. He’ll probably understand what I’m going through right now,right?  

Nope. Too uncomfortable. I think I’m just going to leave. 

“Grace come on, this isn’t healthy” says Cameron. This gives me an idea. 

“You know what actually. How about we talk about something else. Cameron, don’t you have something to say to Khalil, about the specifics of your debt?”

Khalil and Isabelle’s attention shifts from me onto Cameron. Nice. Cameron starts to visibly panic. 

“Uh, I think. I um. Uh…how about everyone getting to bed? We keep getting up and staying up and we’ve had a, uh, a long long day” he stammers. “Good night everybody!”

Cameron leaves the room with haste, quickly scurrying upstairs. Khalil and Isabelle give each other concerned looks. I chuckle to myself and also leave. Back to my room I go. 

I sit by my window sill, legs swinging and back twisted as I take a look outside. You can see all the degeneracy that goes on in this part of The Land from here. I see a group of people who look like they’re on a mission to destroy every last still-standing landmark in the town. I see a whole clusterfuck of people holding torches and pitchforks like they do in disaster movies, I wonder what they’re up to? Oh and I also see a wolf pissing on a tree. 

“Best view in the house.” I laugh to myself. 

I climb into my probably bug-infested bed and try to get to sleep. That’ll fix it, sleep. You don’t have to think about dead uncles and loneliness when you’re asleep. So let’s sleep. 

It’s no use. I can’t seem to get any sleep. For fuck sake. Guess we’ll just stay up and think then. 

I return back to my position on the window cill and take a gander outside. What the hell is going on with that bush? Why is it moving like that? Someone got to be in there. Nevermind, it's stopped moving. I think I’m starting to see things. Or am I?

A few moments after the bush stops moving, I see something truly worth worrying over - A yellow mist roaming through the skies. Please tell me it’s not what I think it is. 

I pick up my sniper and use it as binoculars to get a better view of the rest of the land. I see many people fighting and killing each other in brutal and deadly ways. Those who don't have already dropped dead to the floor, blood leaking from their eyes. A group of rabid people sprint through neighbourhoods destroying everything in their path, some head in the houses direction. It is what I think it is. The crowd of rioters get closer and closer as they tear down the other houses in the neighbourhood. Some of them move away from the clusterfuck and target our house directly. Shit.

I rush out of my room, stumbling over as I throw myself down the hall and into Khalil’s room. I burst Khalil’s door wide open. How did he not hear that? Who cares, this is not the time for deep sleep. I jump onto his bed and shake him violently until he wakes up. 

“Khalil! The mist! Wake up now!” I scream as I rock his body back and forth. He suddenly jolts awake in time to see my panicked eyes staring deep back into his.
He pulls my hands off of himself and uses his hands to rub his tired eyes awake. 

“Grace, what the fuck are you talking about?” he groans. 

“The mist! The mist is back, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!” 

Khalil starts to shake. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this panicked before. He quickly leaps out of bed and stares out the window. He breathes heavily as he watches a group of mist-affected rioters destroy a house outside. 

“No, no, no, no, no, NO!” he mutters to himself. “It’s started already”

He ruffles his hands through his short curly hair. He should get an afro like his brother did, I think it’d suit him. I’ll come with him to the barbers if we ever survive all this mist stuff. 

 “Come on Grace. Let's go.” he says.

Khalil grabs a rifle from underneath his bed. He charges out of the room and I follow.

“I’ll get Isabelle, you get Cameron” I advise. Khalil nods and we both go our separate ways down the hallway. I swing the door to Isabelle’s room open only to find she has already woken up, equipped herself with a knife and is about to leave the room. Izzy’s always on the ball. 

“Good you’re awake” she says. “I assume you’ve seen what’s happened to?”

“Yep,” I say. Isabelle does her signature commanding-lady-type nod. Next stop, Cameron’s room. 

We enter Cam’s room to see Khalil in the process of trying to wake him up. God Cameron’s lazy. He looks cute when he sleeps though, so I guess I’ll give him a pass. A frustrated Isabelle storms over and chooses a different awakening technique - a firm slap across the face. It works. Cameron is jolted awake to see us all standing around his bed. He could not look more uncomfortable if he tried. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. Khalil lifts him out of bed.

  “The mist has returned. Get up. Now.” he says in a demanding tone. 

Cameron anxiously looks around us all. "No, it can't be. What do you mean-"

"The mist has come back in full force. People are attacking each other already." I interrupt. 

"Some are dropping dead. Even the young. I think this one might be worse than the last." adds Isabelle. Well that can't be good. 

"Young people are dropping dead too?"asks Khalil. "I thought that was rare? Like what happened to my brother?"

"I think it's going to start becoming more common." responds Isabelle. She scrunches her face up and ponders. Ha. Ponder. Such a funny little word. 

"How could this happen? This doesn't make any sense." she continues. Khalil grinds his teeth. Oh boy. That's his 'I'm going to kill something' face. 

"We don't have to make sense of it, we just have to make it out alive" he asserts. 

He huddles the group together. He would've made a great sports team captain if he had stayed in school.

"I see some people heading over here and they look ready to kill, so we should be too. We need to prepare for a complete fallout. Everyone collect your things, prioritise clothes, food and weapons, we may need to leave this house for good. Until then, stay alert."

We all nod our heads in unison. Not gonna lie that was so cool. Felt like a speech from a movie scene that we're all in. Would be a pretty fucked up movie. I hope I make it to the sequel. What am I doing, rambling as always? I have a fallout to prepare for!

I hurry towards my room moments later with a crate in hand. Glad I ignored Khalil when he said I shouldn't waste my time stealing from that crashed train. I knew they would come in handy. I put all of my belongings inside the rucksack. Not like I owned a whole lot anyway, just some spare clothes, food rations and a couple of pistols. I should probably leave one on me right. Yep, that's a good idea. Things are going to get bloody.

I go down into the kitchen, looking for things to fill up my rucksack. I look around to get a feel of the area. What can I see? Apple, orange, chicken feather, old watch, a man outside running towards the window with a bloody stone, mouldy fish. Wait a second, man with bloody stone outside. You shouldn't be here. 

"Look alive everyone, we have company" I yell, my voice echoing through the house. I hear Khalil charging down the stairs. I look down the hall to see him burst open the front door and hide by the side of it with a gun. I direct my eyes back to the man who approaches the back door. 

"Cameron, get your sniper and head up to the second floor. Shoot down as many as you can from the window. “Isabelle try to salvage anything no one has packed yet!" commands Khalil. 

Everyone gets into position. The man I saw finally decides to take action. He throws the bloody stone through the window, smashing it completely. It's about time. I flip over the table and use it as a cover. Tables can be bulletproof, right? Guess I'll find out. I peak over the table, now flipped to its side with my pistol also peaking. Time for a bloodbath.

The window smasher tries to claw his way inside. Fat chance. I shoot a couple of rounds into his midsection. I meant to aim for his head but it still got the job done. It seems like he had friends, friends who are just as willing to charge at me. The backdoor is blasted open with shots from a carbon rifle. Shit! I hide behind my poor choice of table cover and let off a few shots blind, just as many as I can manage. I look over the table to see both a man and a woman, slumped over each other by the house's back entrance, dead. Phew, that was close. I hold my chest, there's a surging feeling flowing throughout. How come the only time I truly feel alive these days is when I'm almost about to die? I’ve always wondered about that. Can't be normal, surely. 

I look over to see Khalil unloading his rifle against the attackers from the front side of the building. He seems to be doing fine. So is Cameron, well I think he is, either he's sniping the people who charge us from afar or they're just dropping to the floor for the fun of it. I continue to shoot out of the backdoor, not taking any chances with people coming for me. I look to see Isabelle crawling around the house with a crate, putting everything we might need. She tries to lay low enough to not get caught by any stray bullets. I think that's the hardest job here, although at least she doesn't have to kill anyone. Ew, she's actually trying to keep that mouldy fish? Food is food I guess.

I hear Cameron run down the stairs, his clumsy footsteps manage to be louder than the clanging of items in his rucksack. Isn't he supposed to be sniping people upstairs? What the hell is he doing? Cameron stands by Khalil, on the opposite side of the door. 

"Aren't you supposed to be sniping people upstairs? What the hell are you doing?" he questions. 

I know Khalil, that's what I said!

"I don't think that'll be useful anymore" answers Cameron. Khalil looks outside and his face drops. Is something coming? I run to join them by the doorway. 

"Hey what are you two checking out?" I ask. Before they can answer I see a large wave of people with bigger guns head in our direction. Jesus these people won't be satisfied until they trample the entire neighbourhood. Goddamn mist. 

Isabelle joins us too, a full crate in her hand. 

"I think it's time we leave'' she says. No disagreements here. Khalil takes out a higher powered rifle lying to the side of him. He gestures at Cameron who without a word takes both his and Khalil's rucksack off of his shoulders and hands them off to Isabelle. If Khalil would make a good team captain, then Cameron would make a nice kitman and waterboy. 

“Get all the stuff into the car,  I’ll cover you” says Khalil to Isabelle. Without wasting even a second's breath Khalil starts to unload on the oncoming crowd. I might as well join him. Isabelle takes a deep breath. The clutches the items in her hand with great strength and charges out of the house and towards a car parked by a rough field as Khalil and I cover her, letting lead fly all over the place. Khalil lets out a passionate scream as he shoots more and more of the crowd down. He’s really into this, must have inhaled some of that good sweet yellow mist. Cameron joins in on the attack but at a slower pace, because of his sniper, of course. I look over to Isabelle to see if she made it to the car. She has, thank God. Even in a life and death situation she’s still trying to pack everything into the car in the most efficient way possible. Adorable. Khalil and Cameron  continue to let shots off. The gunfire rings in my ear. Man this is going to make me go deaf one day. I check on Isabelle again. She waves at me. Must be finished packing. 

“Shall we go boys?” I ask. Khalil looks at me, looks to Isabelle then looks back at me and nods. 

The three of us sprint towards the car. I use the last of my pistol ammo to stave off the oncoming attackers. Eventually we made it. Cameron and I dive into the backseats, Isabelle into the passenger and Khalil in the drivers. Khalil starts the car with haste. He swerves down a path through the rough field that was cleared weeks ago. 

“Thank God for your tunnelling, Isabelle.” he comments. “Surprised it came in handy so quickly.”

“That’s not exactly something I’m proud of right now! We put so much work into this area!” responds Isabelle. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll return nce things have calmed down” assures Khalil. 

I look outside to see the neighbourhood still engulfed in chaos. Most of the houses have already been burnt down and they’re starting to make a campfire out of ours. 

“I don't think there's going to be anything to return to,” I comment. 

Khalil looks through the rear view mirror just in time to see the attackers torch our place. 

“Fuck.” he mutters.

As Khalil makes his best attempt to drive us to safety, I look out of the window to see the mist starting to clear. Good news. But the people who breathed it in when it first arrived are still high strung. Bad news. I’m pretty sure I saw a little girl beating her father’s head in with a crowbar. 

Isabelle was right, this one might be worse than the one that caused all of this in the first place. Maybe that’s what the surging feeling inside me was, I must’ve breathed some in accidentally. Hope I don’t do anything drastic. I do have the strong urge to strangle something. And to pee.

Khalil drives out from this town and onto the next. He reaches a city. I see, we’re venturing into Capital County’s mainland now. How exciting. This place is less destroyed but has more violent wanderers. He almost crashes the car trying to swerve out of the way of a couple of survivors as he drives down a bumpy road. As we speed down a pothole-ridden area, I see a group of people all heading in the same direction - a large mansion. 

We drive closer to see more and more people attempting to break into the mansion, doing their best to destroy it. I see that Khalil has also taken notice of the mansion the closer we drive towards it, but he isn’t looking at the crowds. He directly looks at one of the windows, I think he’s staring at a person in there. I squint my eyes and vaguely make out a frightened blonde woman. Oh no. Come on Khalil. Please don’t do what I know you’re about to do. 

“Isabelle did you manage to pack any of those old masks?” asks Khalil. 

“Masks? What the hell do you want with masks?” she asks back. “So we don’t breathe in more of the mist?

“No. Well partly. But also for something else.”

Within the blink of an eye we’re out of the car, standing in the back of the crowd of rioters outside the mansion, wearing masks to cover our mouths. They’re not a bad look to be fair. 

“What the hell are we doing out here?” asks Isabelle. Khalil ignores her.

“Khalil? What the hell are we doing out here!” she repeats. 

Khalil continues to ignore her. Isabelle looks towards Cameron and I in outrage. I simply shrug and follow him. 

Soon enough the four of us are seamlessly blending into the crowd of rioters who throw stones, weapons, whatever they find at the building. These people won’t breath until they’ve torn the place apart brick by brick. We follow Khalil as he sneaks through the crowd. He eventually stops, turns around and huddles us all together. He points towards one of the mansions' backdoors. 

“When I drop it, close your eyes and press forward.” he says. 

“Drop what?” I ask.

I look down towards Khalil’s hands, he holds a canister of that eye-paining gas shit. What the hell is he thinking! That’s like one of the last three we have left! This better work, Khalil. 

Khalil lets off the tear gas and sneakily drops and rolls it underneath the crowd. A few seconds pass and it starts to go off. 

“Gas! There’s gas!” shouts a man close to us. The panic starts, and Khalil uses this as an opportunity to barge through the crowd towards the back door. Me and the others close our eyes and follow him. We eventually push our way through the panicked crowd. I hear the sound of Khalil quickly picking the lock of the door. I try and open my eyes for a split second but gas still fills the area and clouds my vision. Khalil manages to break into the house and the four of us pour in. 

Once inside we barricade the door with whatever we can find. Tables, chairs, whatever the hell that is, looks like a cushion couch for tiny pampered little dogs. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever lives here owns something like that. 

This place is nice though, it looks like modern-day royalty used to live here. The crimson-gold-mahogany colour scheme is taking it a bit too far though. 

Khalil's eyes dart across the huge kitchen as he searches for something. I know exactly what. But all he finds are blood stains on the white and gold marble floors. Isabelle interrupts his search, confronting him. 

“You going to tell me why we’re here?” she asks. 

“We need a new house don’t we?” says Khalil. She doesn’t seem to buy it and neither do I. 

“We need a new house or do you need a new girl?” I chime in with. 

Isabelle and Cameron look towards him for confirmation. Khalil sighs.

“We can do both.”

“Do?” asks Cameron. 

“Save.” corrects Khalil. 

I start to laugh at Khalil, but Isabelle clearly does not find this as funny as I do. 

“We risked our lives and wasted that gas canister just for some girl you don’t even know?” asks Isabelle. 

Khalil glares at her,  refusing to answer. Most men have a weakness for damsels in distress, but for Khalil it’s more like a debilitating sickness.

“Let’s just secure the house, defend it if we have to.” he finally says. “Even if you don’t want to help this person, you must admit, this house would make a great place to stay if we can secure it.”

Isabelle nods in agreement, but something tells me she doesn’t actually agree. Cameron nods too but that’s Cameron, he’ll follow whoever acts like they know what they’re doing. 

“Let’s have a look around then?” I suggest as I walk towards the main living room, located by the house's entrance.

 “Shotgun bottom floor!”

 Isabelle joins me whilst Khalil and Cameron decide to go upstairs.  I enter the living room to see that it’s even more impressive than the kitchen! You could do like twenty cart-wheels in a row in between each wall and still have enough space! Seriously, what’s all this space for, the furniture in the room hardly fills it. They even have their own old-timey bar at the side. God I wish I was this rich. 

I walk over towards a series of luxury black chairs with red cushions on top, surrounding a huge black marble table.  On the table are a collection of framed family photos. Everyone’s wearing formalwear in every single one of these, even the children. Damn they’re fancy. I pick up one of the photos and look at it. The whole family is together, how cute. They’re probably dead now, which makes it less cute. Wait, that old man, he kind of looks like…my Uncle Bradley.

  For fuck sake! I was doing so well! For a good while I completely forgot about how completely alone I am in the world. Stupid old man photo. Why’d you have to look like Uncle Bradley?

I drop the picture back on the table in annoyance. Isabelle notices my irritated mutters, even though I try my best to keep them under my breath. 

“You okay?” she asks wearily. 

“Yeah, of course.” I lie. 

Isabelle nods slowly. She obviously doesn’t believe me. Doesn’t matter, as long as she doesn’t start emotionally probing me. But she probably won’t. It’s not in Izzy’s nature. That’s why I’m glad she’s here with me right now, and not Cameron or god forbid, Khalil. With him it’d be almost as bad as when Aunt Irene tried to force me to go to therapy after Mum died. I don’t need to go to therapy or talk about my feelings. All I need are distractions. Yes, that’s right, distractions. Enough distractions that keep me too busy and on the move  so I don’t even have the time to think about how sad I am. The perfect solution, me thinks. 

I hear the sound of a hysteric blood-curdling scream coming from upstairs. What the hell are Khalil and Cameron doing up there? 

To be fair, I did say I wanted a distraction. And that up there, sounds like a big one.