Young Writers Society

Sasha

Sasha was, needless to say, not happy.

“I don’t even know how the hell you stood up,” he grumbled as he led Paige down the corridors to her room. “Let alone make it all the way to Regan’s room.” Paige shrugged.

“I heard you talking. I wondered what was up.”

“What was up?” Asked Sasha, blankly. “You heard. I was bringing the boss back to Earth about the whole supply thing.” They had reached Paige’s bunk house by this time. Sasha opened the door and firmly sat the girl down on the bed.

“Now, don’t get up again. Your leg’s already busted up, and I don’t want to have to put you in a wheelchair.” He paused, allowing the statement to sink in. He stood up and made his way for the door. “Anyway,” he muttered. “Get some sleep. But, by the way,” he paused with his hand on the doorknob, “what did you mean by ‘it’s not worth it?’”

Paige:

“Get some sleep. But, by the way,” he paused at the door, one hand on the doorknob, “what did you mean by ‘it’s not worth it?’”

I sighed and laid down on my bunk. "Let's just say it's a bad feeling," I whispered.

"You said that before.... But okay," Sasha said. I knew he was confused but I wasn't going to say anything. I closed my eyes and listened as the door opened and closed, signaling his depature.

"Drunks you can deal with," I breathed. "Drug addicts, not so much."

Soon enough I was fast asleep....only to be woken up a few hours later by someone screaming.