VOLATILE (I) : peter pan ouat

When a Wheelbarrow Happened

Day: 6

Nasty smells, the bitterness all too familiar, travel inside my nose. An assault, or at the very least a violation of my human rights. What did I do to deserve this ungodly form of torture?

"Pan Flute and his stupid punishments destroying not only my soul but my sense of smell at the same time." I mutter, backing up.

Alex grabs a hold of me, preventing me from leaving. "Quit being such a drama queen. You just have to wash some clothes."

"Do you even have a sense of smell?" I yell back.

He glares at me, biting the inside of his lip, before gritting his teeth. "No, I do not."

I look back at him, silent. Of course he has no sense of smell. He probably doesn't have a sense of taste either, and I don't mean that in the sense of what he eats. I shrug out of his grip and walk further into the tent.

I sit on the ground and lean over top of a pile of clothing. I slowly pick up a pair of pants, pinching it between my two fingers. A new, fouler odour comes rushing out of the pile. I jump up, throwing away the pants and begin to gag.

"Calm down, it's literally a pair of pants." Alex chuckles.

"Do you have to be here?" I demand.

"No, I'm spending time with you just for fun." Alex's bitter voice attacks. "I'm responsible for making sure you don't leave. Trust me, I don't want to be here. I have more important things to do then to watch you struggle with laundry."

"I won't run." I say.

"Like how you didn't run away from the fight?" He asks.

I resist the urge to hit him in the face.

"Maybe if you all weren't so barbaric I wouldn't have run off."

"You're such a plunter," he says.

I walk away from him and begin pacing around the tent. This situation would be a thousand times better if I wasn't stuck with Alex. He makes me so angry, so very angry.

A boy walks in the tent, a humungous bucket of water in his hands. He has light brown hair and green eyes, and a giant frown stretched from cheek to cheek. I recognise him, but I'm not sure where from. Probably training, if he attacked me.

"Well aren't you cheery." I spit at the boy.

I really need to stop talking when I'm angry.

He looks at me and glares, but says nothing. He puts the bucket down and throws some clothing in it, before storming off out of the tent.

"Who is that?" I ask, turning to face Alex.

"That's Devin," he answers. "He's a plunter and stuck-up, you two will get along well if you stop being so rude to him."

I roll my eyes at Alex. "You're the biggest loser here. Worse than Kiki, if you ask me."

He sighs. "You are so incredibly naïve."

He storms out of the tent, which I take as another point for me.

Devin walks back in, another bucket in his hands. He drops in down in front of me and walks back over to the other bucket. He pulls up the bucket into his hands and walks out the tent door, still grumbling.

I pick up a pair of clothes, trying not to gag as I throw them into the bucket. They splash down into the water. I try to lift up the bucket to follow Devin, but it is very heavy. The bucket is about as wide as I am across, and goes up to my knees in height.