Adaption (Rachee)

Last night I slept soundly, even with so many reasons not to. I don’t believe I have a single reason to be grateful. This house is cold and uncomfortable, my stomach is killing me, and all night one of the younger kids was whimpering in their sleep. I think it was December, or maybe November, who knows. Now that I’m awake there’s no chance of falling back asleep. Maybe I am grateful; at least I got a good six hours of sleep last night, right? I start to curl up into a ball as a breeze enters the room. None of the others have woken, I don’t think; maybe I should wake them? I don’t feel like moving though. It takes a while, but eventually, I feel myself start to drift off again. This time I’m only half asleep. I’m still completely aware of my surroundings. I hear the body moving; someone’s awake, but I can’t tell who. I’m careful not to move. Maybe if they think I’m asleep, they’ll leave me alone.

I should have known it was him. His little body invading my space; November snuggles up against me like a child. That’s all he is. A boy. Even though I know he wishes he could be something more to me… At first, I ignore his presence. I let him force his head onto my shoulder. He starts to whisper. Damn, it tickles my ear. I almost laugh out loud, but instead, I give into his constant pressuring. “Alright, alright.” I turn my head to face him, keeping my mouth shut because I know my breath must be horrible. His probably is too. “Give me a second to wake up.” I struggle into a sitting position and shake my head at the needy little fourteen year old. For a second, I forgot how cold I was. My body starts to shake and I quickly grab for the blanket. “Ugh, just grab me a sweater, will ya?” As I stand up my gaze falls over the others, fast asleep in their warm, warm blankets. I wish I could sleep as soundly as them. I wish November wouldn’t wake me up so early in the morning to go for a walk. I don’t mind really, but I still wish things were different.

I feel as if I’m still asleep. I’m aware of November’s giddy reaction; I ask him for a sweater and he crawls over to get me one. So obedient. Why is he always so obedient? Things are so confusing to me in the morning. I forget how obsessed this kid is with me, I forget how much I love to string him along. I forget that I am mean. Maybe for once, today I can actually be nice to him, honestly and genuinely nice. A look of concern comes over my face; I’m tired, but I can still hear the creaking of his joints. I’m good at noticing things others don’t, like the hint of pain in November’s eyes when he stands. Better ignore it for now, maybe if I’m still feeling nice I’ll talk to him about it later today. I know this isn’t likely, but it’s nice to pretend things will turn out.

He’s such a sweet boy. I watch November as he covers up a pitiful, shivering October with his blanket. We’re all pretty pitiful hiding out in this abandoned house, especially me. I don’t have a job and I don’t plan on getting one anytime soon, despite constant pleading from the others. January would probably love if I at least tried to contribute. Maybe I will, someday. That’s even less likely than me being nice though.

In my daze, I almost forget about going for a walk. November plops the sweater in my lap and I snuggle up to its warmth. Man I’m tired. I can barely manage to get my arms in the sleeves of the oversized, black, and itchy cotton. When I stand there’s a bit of wobbling, I rub my eyes and suck in a deep breath of air. “Alright, where are we going?” November is going on in the background, something about making me breakfast. Does he even know how to cook? I don’t. I almost ask if he’s actually serious about the breakfast, I am pretty hungry, but he seems in such a hurry to get outside. I’m still not awake. As the two of us head out into the cold, I grab onto the only thing that seems stable enough. I wrap my arms around November’s little waist and let him lead the way. He’s not so little really, and he’s warm.

I pretend to be clueless to November’s feelings, like I don’t know what my affection does to him. It’s better this way. He’s uncomfortable, I can tell. As we make our way out of the house I can feel his body start to tense up. I don’t understand why he has to be so awkward about it. (Or maybe I do understand, I just think it’s kind of funny.) I’ve always been good at messing with guys’ hearts. It’s so easy to take a hold of them, make them think you’re head over heels in love. Just when they’ve fallen for you, that’s when you break their heart. November is one of the few that I would genuinely feel bad about hurting though. For now, I’ll just stick to innocent flirting. I won’t hurt him; I won’t let him believe that I feel the same way. I can’t let it get that far.

I almost forgot how freezing it is outside. We’re both shivering; even through my thick sweater I can feel the wind biting at my skin. November’s voice breaks the iciness around us. It must have been him that was making all that noise last night, if he says he was having nightmares. I don’t dare bring it up though. Now I feel kind of bad for treating him so coldly. I hesitantly pull out of the embrace. For a moment, I just stare at his somewhat frail figure. I try to force a smile, but it turns crooked as my brow furrows with worry. I don’t know a thing about this kid besides the fact that he was born in November. He seems scared, even now. “You okay?” I raise my eyebrow and try to look trusting. As far as he knows, he can trust me. “What kind of dreams were you having?”

November’s mood seems to change with the weather. I watch him lash out; a pair of balled up fists to display his anger. I can see I’m not very good at calming him down, though he accepts my plea little by little. His grip loosens and I pull my hand back to examine the marks he’s made. Red imprints of November’s hand around mine; rub them away before he can see. I fall victim to the hopelessness in his voice. If I was going to feel sorry for anyone, it would be this kind and gentle version of November. He’s helpless; like a child. On this chilly morning he’s more vulnerable than most any man. I suddenly feel guilty for thinking I can take advantage of him. He trusts me too much. That just wouldn’t be fair.

Since when is love fair?

I don’t think November realizes, when he fell in love with me he put himself at risk. His affections can never be undone. From here on out I will play with his emotions, fair or not. It’ll be too hard to resist. If he needs a mother figure then that’s what I’ll be. I stop my prey in its tracks and wrap my arms around him. I won’t let him move for fear he’ll push me away. He needs me. I have to keep telling myself that. He wants this. Why else would he ask me out here? What else could I even be good for? I gently rub his back and prepare for the kill, “Its okay November. I’ve got you.”