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I woke up the next day late in the evening which wasn't bad considering I had stayed up all night with the boys, just lounging around. They had wandered deeper into the cave, saying they had a sleeping area back there, and Paul had carried me to a bed they had in the main area so I could sleep comfortably. When I questioned why they had a bed out here if their rooms were in the back, they just shrugged and said it was for when they were too lazy to move to the back. I had stayed up a bit later than them, watching the sunrise and listening to the pigeons coo around me.

Paul had left a boombox near my bed on one of the softer radio stations so it wasn't too quiet for me, and I woke up to the sound of the radio host declaring the time and the next song. It was five o'clock in the evening. Since it was autumn, I had no doubt that the sun would be setting in about an hour or two. It didn't stay up for very long around this time of the year.

I stretched my arms out wide, letting out a loud yawn, and my body shuddered from the feeling. I then slung my legs over the edge of the bed and stared down at my ankle. I lightly pressed my injured foot on the floor before pressing harder. It still hurt a bit, but not near as bad as last night. I stood up completely and then leaned my weight onto my injured leg. It was definitely still painful, but more of an 'I-stubbed-my-foot-and-freaked-out-for-a-few-minutes' kind of pain rather than the pain I had felt earlier. I took a few steps, noting that I had a limp, and I wouldn't want to stay on that foot for too long, but I could move around.

What the hell? How was that even possible in the slightest? Broken ankles took months to heal as far as I knew. Maybe I had just been overdramatic? No, it definitely had been much worse.

I jumped back up onto the bed and looked around the cave. Most of the fires were out, and the entrance to the cave provided most of the light. I was able to take in most of the details I hadn't caught the night before now like the many decorations hanging from the ceiling, posters, and a giant portrait of someone thrown up on the wall, none of them straight in the slightest. There was a large, black bookshelf pushed up against a far wall that I hadn't seen beforehand. It was filled to the brim with thick novels, and right beside it was a huge collection of music.

I stood up, limping my way over to the music. I had to skip over a few small piles of clothing which was confusing considering I really only saw the boys in their one outfit. I wonder if they ever washed it. They didn't smell.

The music was divided up into sections based on genres. There was a huge section dedicated to all kinds of rock and punk music. Pop made up the smallest section along with a few homemade mixtapes from what I could tell. They were cassettes with one of the boy's scratchy writing written on it with what the mood was or date.

I ended up grabbing a David Bowie cassette along with Marko's drawing supplies and the boombox before I settled back on the bed. I flipped through his sketchbook to an empty page, trying to skip past what he already had drawn. I didn't want to invade his privacy because I knew how personal sketchbooks could be, but I happened to catch a few images. Most of them were just pictures of the cave, the boys, and maybe some pigeons, but there were also a few bloody pictures, people dead or scared. I couldn't necessarily blame him, I knew some people found comfort in horror, but they put a bit of discomfort in my chest. It was incredibly realistic.

Once I got to an empty page, I thought of what I wanted to draw before just going haywire. I didn't know when the boys would be waking up, and I didn't want to just leave because they might find it rude. Plus, I had no idea where we were. So, I drew a girl that vaguely resembles me and then fire, I scribbled down song lyrics I liked as I listened to the Bowie album. By the time the boys showed up from the back, the sun had set, I grabbed another album to listen to, and I filled three pages with complete nonsense.

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