posted on Jun, 5 2014 @ 04:05 AM
"Wake up." She mumbled darkly, her eyes burning into Alan, who glanced up at her, his usually neat hair now completely askew, and his eyes
portraying an odd, unexplainable emotion. "Just... just wake the hell up... I don't have the patience to listen to your sh!t anymore. And you know
what? Neither does the rest of the world. Seriously, Alan--I mean goddamn--look AROUND you! Look what's happening!"
Alan sat on his knees, cupping his cheek, entirely silent.
Even though everyone else was trying to rest, they all seemed to sense what had happened. Still, none of them spoke a word.
Sandra's hand was still balled into a tight, trembling fist. Although, as she stood over Alan, watching him, a revolted, horrible feeling burst
through her like water from a broken dam.
After what felt like years of silence, Sandra finally uncurled her hand, allowing it to relax.
"I'm sorry." She told him softly.
He said nothing, still looking away.
Sandra glanced at the others, then back to Alan, looking conflicted.
"Com'ere." She said, bending down and grabbing Alan by the arm.
Sandra pulled him to his feet, then lead him out of the main room, towards another mysterious metal door, the one on the opposite end of the bunker.
She opened the door, pulled Alan into the isolated room, engulfing them both in darkness, then shut the door.
After groping around in the blackness, Sandra located the light switch, then flicked it, illuminating the room in a blinding white light. Alan wasn't
able to hide his shock once everything in the room became visible.
It was like a huge walk-in closet, only with walls of metal--and both of the walls were lined with various types of firearms. Rifles, shotguns, and
small rectangular cases, which Alan suspected contained handguns. When he made a bewildered expression, Sandra lifted a finger to her lips, making a
"Don't tell the others what's in this room." She told him.
Alan nodded, glimpsing at the guns nervously.
Sandra gazed at him, her expression deflated, looking positively regretful.
"I'm sorry." She told him truthfully. "I'm really sorry."
Alan returned her profound stare, still seeming unable to speak.
Sandra noticed a bruise beginning to form on his jaw.
When she extended her hand, hoping to examine his face, he backed away.
"Alan, I'm sorry." Sandra said again, her voice mellowing. "It won't happen again. Ever."
Alan continued to stare at her quietly.
"What do you want?" She asked. "A free shot?"
Alan squinted questioningly at her.
"I'll let you hit me back, if you want." Sandra told him. Then, she swiped one of her crimson-red bangs off her face, revealing one of her smooth,
pale cheeks. "Do it. Just hit me. You'll feel better."
"I'm not going to hit you." Alan told her.
"Just once, as hard as you can. Do it." Sandra tempted, inching closer.
"No." Alan said forwardly. "Who do you think I am?"
"You've got a lot pent up. You need to vent more." Sandra told him. "I deserve it for hitting you, alright? Just do it."
"You know how many times I've been hit." Alan said. "Why would I get any pleasure out of doing that to someone else? Especially--"
He cut himself off, giving her an odd, unreadable face.
Sandra stared back at him, the bruise on his jaw becoming the slightest bit more noticeable now...
"I'm sorry." She mumbled again.
"Don't be." Alan replied. "I needed it."
Sandra paused, unsure of how to respond.
"Just don't..." He started, looking down. "Just don't leave again... please."