The Last of Us

Seven

Nightmares plague my sleep. I'm staring at the ceiling from dawn until I can't stand it any longer.

I get up around 8 am. I don't have anything on for the day—my only day off for the week. Usually, I'd complain about the lack of free time, but I need the distraction right now.

If I don't have something to do, my phone is suddenly in my hand, and I'm checking my mail—every damn minute. I'm checking if I hear any notification sound, even if it's not for my mail.

I'm not sure how I will look the girls in my support group in the eye tomorrow, knowing Jason Randall is out there and that I don't feel safe anymore. That maybe none of them should feel safe.

He never had a type of victim. They just needed to be female. That was enough for him.

I shudder, grabbing the kettle as it finishes boiling. I pour the water into the mug, watching the coffee swirl around the cup as the colour turns black. I grab the milk from the fridge as mum enters the room, yawning.

She's already dressed for the day, her hair clean and clothes pressed firmly with an iron.

I, on the other hand, couldn't look worse. A clump of hair at the back of my head will soon become a dreadlock if I'm not careful. There's a food stain on my navy plaid pyjama pants. I wonder how long it's been left there unnoticed.

"Morning," I say, shutting the fridge as the toaster dings.

"You're up early. Don't you have the day off?"

"Didn't sleep that well," I shrug, turning my back to her as I grab for the jam and butter.

"Why?" she instantly sounds alert, and I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

"You know, just one of those nights."

I should know better than to let small things like that slip out. Mum is both a warrior and a worrier. For both those reasons, she is protective and observant. She doesn't let small comments slide without analysing every little detail.

"You're not having nightmares again, are you? You would tell me otherwise, right?"

"Of course," I nod, stuffing a piece of toast into my mouth as I turn back to face her.

"It's just last night with you dropping that plate and—"

"Mum. I can assure you I'm fine."

We both stand in silence for a moment, her watching me with clear eyes despite the early morning. I watch her tiredly, just waiting for her to crack under the layers of my lies.

I know it's only a matter of time before she finds out. I've never been able to keep much from her for very long.

She sighs, waving a hand in front of her face. "I need a coffee."

I offer her a small smile, glad she will drop it for now.

I fill up a clean mug for her, pouring a teaspoon of coffee and the water. I grab some sugar and the milk, and she gratefully grasps the cup from my hand, blowing at the steam.

"Did you see the boys that moved in next door? I was getting the mail this morning, and one of them was finally mowing the damn lawn."

"I bet that will be a relief for you," I grin, finishing the rest of my toast before placing the plate in the sink.

"He wasn't bad looking either," she insinuates, raising an eyebrow at me.

I scoff, shaking my head. "I don't have time for that stuff."