The Hit List

Chapter 28

I passed out. I can't believe I passed out. And now I'm sitting around a campfire with the man who caused it. As the flames flicker and dance before me, I can't help but feel a strange mix of awe and disbelief.

He only held partial responsibility. Most landed on me for refusing breakfast.

"These vegan marshmallows aren't half bad. Better than the hot dogs, that's for sure."

I felt the burning against my legs. But refused to move them. I was finding peace in the slight pain. The crackling filled our extended silences. My whole body still hurts, the bruises purple and blue underneath my clothes.

He looks fine. A long-sleeved white shirt spread itself against his chest.

The scent of wood smoke wafts through the air.

He looks content. His fingers pulled a marshmallow off of the stick. White stickiness lingers on the metal. He pops the golden brown sweetness into his mouth, taking a bite of chocolate as he chews.

Savoring the moment, his eyes close briefly. A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. The crackle of the campfire provides a comforting background to the peaceful night.

"Why eat it separately like that? They're meant to be enjoyed together," I gesture towards the chocolate bar in his hand, his fingers smeared with it as it melted. His response is a shrug, and with effortless grace, he brings it to his lips, taking a bite as his tongue guides the chocolate into his mouth.

"I tried to get graham crackers, but they all had honey in them. Figured we'd make do with the only ingredients that truly matter. Besides, you have no leg to stand on, you haven't even tried one."

I look at the fire, crackling. The crisp air is mixed with the scent of toasted marshmallows. I grin and grab a piece of chocolate.

"Good, you've learned your lesson about not eating. That's probably why you're so sad. Your brain is practically dead from malnutrition." He wipes his hands on a paper towel, throwing it in the fire once done.

With a chuckle, I shake my head. "Hand me a marshmallow." I hold out my hand as he stares at it. He doesn't move anything except his head, which moves up and down from my hand to my face repeatedly. Waiting. Expectant.

The tension between us has eased throughout the night, as the flames flicker and cast lengthy shadows on the ground. A feeling of calm continues to descend upon us, as though a murmur in the silence of the night. The light of the fire reflected mischievousness in his eyes.

As the silence envelops us like an embrace, I find myself drawn to the light of that gaze.

He washes over me until the muddied water runs clear.

"Please," I finally speak, feeling my heart falter as he smiles, his teeth concealed behind his lips. "Do you want one or two?" He asks, reaching into the plastic bag, his gaze fixed on me as he awaits a response. "One's fine. Thanks," I reply, reaching out as he slips the marshmallow into my fingers.

"I don't remember the last time I did this. God, I must have been thirteen," I reminisce, sliding the fluffy treat onto the metal prong.

As the marshmallow begins to roast over the crackling flames, memories of simpler times flood my mind. I can almost taste them in the air.

"Language." He eyes the prong, almost like he's scared I'll pierce myself with it. As though I'll allow my intrusive thoughts to win. I'll give in and allow myself to die in front of him before he can harm me any further.

My gaze shifts to the flames, hovering the marshmallow just above the flickers. "I've never done this," his words are quiet, barely audible, whispered beneath his breath. The crackling sound of the fire almost overtakes them.