The Dead World Ch. 04

It took a bit of effort to get into her jeans. She still felt weak. She glanced to her nightstand, to the little black box sitting there, her eyes narrowing and jaw clenching in disgust as she swatted it across the room and away from her. That fucking DOG! The teenager—the one they called Dog, this had to be his doing! Her eyes sunk down quickly to the water bottle she'd dropped earlier, kicking it away from her with an infuriated shout. He'd put something in one or both things and passed them off as 'gifts' and she was so foolish as to trust him. He was no better than the fucker who tried raping her in the hall!

I'll kill him... How could she have been so stupid as to think she could trust any one of these people? Was it that he was younger? Quiet? She braided her hair in a fury, coiling it atop her head and pulling the beanie down over her ears, hunting for the goggles only to find them absent, still.

Drawing the tight sports bra over her ample chest, she slid a shirt on and another atop it, and finally the slightly oversized leather jacket before she snatched her card key and rooted about her room for any manner of weapon she had left over. With luck as she tossed books and trinkets across the room, she came across one of Matt's hunting knives holding a place in one of the books he'd been reading on the bookshelf across from their bed. It fell at her feet, and she quickly bent to retrieve it.

What would she do? She certainly couldn't let him go tell his friends about what he had discovered about their young 'male' host—if he hadn't already—hell it could take all day to even find him. He seemed to come and go almost unnoticeably from more than a few situations, soundless and swift unlike his loud and rather abrasive companions. What if he had already gone to alert his friends and they were plotting against her at this very moment? It's almost noon, and he unlocked the door... they'd have been here by now wouldn't they?

The more she thought of it the less sense it made. She reminded herself that while she might be able to get lucky and stab the Dog in the back, fighting any one of the other men hand to hand when they were all heavily armed was not a fight she was going to win. She needed to get the fuck out of here... and quickly. Damn the supplies at this point, she had her bag and the maps, she would figure it out on the road.

She tucked the unsheathed knife at her belt, and stepped out into the hall, the door closing quietly behind her. She glanced first toward the elevator, to find it still settled on her floor. She then turned her head toward the far end of the hall. It appeared she wouldn't have to do much searching after all... the tall, lanky youngster seemed to be waiting for her, standing at the end of the hall looking out over the sea.

"YOU!" She spat the words and advanced upon him in a fury as he turned to face her with a lazy smile, shoving into him as roughly as she could muster, causing him to stumble back into the small table accent resting behind him and knock the vase with its faux flowers down to shatter upon the carpeted floor. "You fucking sick bastard, why would you do something like that?! Why?!"

Her voice broke, threatening a sob, her hands balled into tight fights as she struck him squarely in the chest. And again... and again! His hands rose into the air defenselessly, expression softly concerned as he allowed her to vent upon him, stirring anxiety within his own mind. He had feared it. He knew the risks. He surely hadn't expected her to come flying out of her room so quickly intending to seek revenge.

Then again, he hadn't expected her to remember much if anything at all... clearly he hadn't dosed her strongly enough in fear of hurting her. And, well... maybe leaving through the door wasn't the smartest thing he did that night, either. It was obvious Charlie didn't find it nearly as amusing as he had anticipated it being. Everything he had done he felt was far more for her satisfaction than his own, he simply sated his curious whims and treated her fondly, and delicately... was it so bad, what he had done? She was so very, very upset.

She wore herself out quickly, and honestly didn't do much harm to him at all. He thought to slowly bring his arms down, with her so close, and attempt to embrace her tenderly as she sobbed at which point she went directly for the hunting knife at her belt and shoved him back into the wall. His head hit the window none too gently, and she pressed the blade against his throat threateningly with hatred burning bright in her dark eyes and tears slipping down her cheeks. He fell still, hands raised again away from her in surrender, looking down at her with that pathetically sympathetic gaze. He made no attempt to defend himself.

"You're sick! You're a fucking sick pig—are all of you like that?! What the hell is wrong with you!" She seemed desperate to know why he would take advantage of her, after seeing how much she obviously seemed to fear just that happening, "Say something!"

He blinked rapidly, and swallowed gently, the blade nicking his flesh causing the slightest trickle of red. He did not flinch, he made no sound. She noticed it immediately and it broke through that brewing hurricane of anger inside of her, and she drew the blade back just as he expected she would. He didn't need to know her for more than the few days they had been there to see how gentle she was, and that even in her anger she couldn't possibly bring herself to kill just anyone in cold blood.

It was a dangerous way to be in the world today... soft-hearted, gentle, kind. He dropped his head immediately as she took a step back and recalled that Dog was a mute, shuffling his feet as he slowly slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and trained his eyes upon the floor with all the semblance of a scolded pet who had gone against his master's wishes.

"BAD." She hissed at him, because it was all she could think to do. She reached out and up to slap him harshly in the face with the hand not brandishing the hunting knife. What she did was insulting in the least but the way he looked, well, it seemed fitting for the occasion!

"BAD DOG, BAD!"

He shrunk down even more so, dropping to his knees upon the ground, his hands raising above to shield his head instinctively in a way that could only express it as a conditioned reaction to some manner of traumatic experience. He steeled himself at her feet on his knees and uttered a soft sound—the only sound she had ever heard from him—which reverberated in his throat. It sounded almost like a whimper, and how it tugged upon her heart strings as he begged forgiveness.

She was still quite livid nevertheless. Her head was a cloudy jumble of half-formed thoughts and distorted memories of the night before, but now she knew for a fact that she had been sexually assaulted by this young man... she felt sick for sympathizing with him. She supposed it wasn't hard to do, because she couldn't exactly remember all that he had done. She didn't remember his face... she barely remembered what had occurred. It... still felt like a dream.

Charlie had drawn her hand back prepared to strike him once again but stopped almost immediately as Dog brought his hands above and hung his head low, palms pressed together. He was pleading forgiveness. She backed away several steps. He did not move, his palms still together over his head, pleading that she would take mercy and that she could find forgiveness. He hadn't meant to be bad, he had been selfish, and that he knew was wrong... but he hadn't hurt her. He hadn't frightened her the way Slash had. He had been so very gentle with her.

"...Why would you do such a thing?" She pleaded with him again, her tone as firm as it was desperate. She sniffled and swiped the tears angrily from her cheeks with the same hand she had prepared to strike him with, "...I didn't think... you were like that, so tell me why? Tell me!—I know that you can write—don't you have something to write with?! I want to know why! After what your friend tried to do to me, why would you do such a fucked up thing?!"

He slowly brought his hands down and turned his palms up, shrugging sheepishly, shaking his head from side to side as if to say 'I wasn't thinking'. His soft hazel eyes darted up to her, to see the anger still splayed upon her face, forcing himself not to stare at her... she was impeccably beautiful, even upset and pretending to be a boy.

He supposed the knowledge he had of her now made that impossible to see anything he might have seen before. Slowly, carefully he drew from within' the inner pocket of his leather jacket the little notepad he had written the apology on as well as the pen, and began to write. After a moment he offered it delicately to Charlotte.

'I stopped Slash. You owe me.' She didn't like the response, her temper flaring once again as she threw the notepad at his head, terribly tempted to slap him again.

"Owe you?! For stopping that fucking lunatic from raping me in the hallway?! So since you stopped him, what—you decided you get to do it yourself, huh? That's so fucked up—YOU are just as fucked up as he is Dog!"

He shook his head rapidly, flipping the page and scribbling quickly, bringing the book up for her to view before she could try and hit him again. 'Not rape! Hold, kiss, touch... curious.' Reading over the words made her skin crawl, and her stomach churn, but it stopped her from striking him again. She felt her emotions swell and felt in unison a certain helplessness that she could not find a suitable sense of justice in this situation.

It wasn't like she could call the police and have him arrested. Dog had stolen her peace of mind, yet he could or had already exposed her, and she still could not bring herself to kill the young man especially when he seemed so pitifully innocent and led astray. Foolish, and far overstepping his boundaries... but she did not feel the same predatory, malicious intent that seemed to radiate off Slash with him. He seemed desperate for her forgiveness and acceptance, now more than ever.

He watched her for a few moments, turning to the next page and scrawling in his sloppy hand another message before holding it out for her to read. 'I'm sorry... forgive me? ...You're beautiful, Charlie.'

Whether it made sense of not, Charlie didn't dwell on it. What he did was wrong, and she was not at all inclined to forgive him or trust him now, not so easily... but, well, there was another side to this she had to consider. The very real possibility that if Dog had gotten into her room once that she even knew of, he could do it again, and the very serious possibility that he had already told his friends that she was a woman in disguise.

"Did you tell your friends?" He shook his head firmly in reply, his eyes traveling down to the notepad as he began to write again and offered it for her to read a moment later. 'I'll keep your secret... not safe.' It was not at all comforting to know that she had been right in assuming that all along. Her lips pursed, her arms slowly crossing over her chest.

"Yeah? You aren't safe either... you're sneaky, and evil..." Dog poked his bottom lip out almost mockingly in a pout, and she scowled and threatened him with an open palm again, at which point he stifled a grin and brought his hands up to shield his head once more, now that Charlie seemed to be on the decline of her justified rage.

"...Are... are you going to tell them?"

He shook his head once again. He never had the intention of letting them know, even when it was only a suspicion to him... he had seen a few things, here and there, and certainly noticed a few others while he was pickpocketing her on those few occasions. She stared at him for a long few moments, but she was not so good at judging one's true intentions just by observing them alone. His fear and anxiety seemed to be melting away as she visibly began to calm down, his features transforming into that pleasant albeit unreadable blank expression.

"...Are you going to break into my room again?"

He looked away to the left sheepishly, and then rolled his eyes up to the ceiling thoughtfully, brows lofting. He raised his hands with a shrug and a lopsided grin and earned himself a hearty thump against the side of his head.

"Don't! You stay out—I don't want you in my room, okay? I don't want you touching me, do you understand that? You aren't allowed!" He blinked several times, rubbing the place she had smacked him tenderly, and slowly rose to his feet, his eyes sweeping down her petite frame as if picturing her beneath the fabric. She didn't like that, he could tell the way her cheeks began to burn and how she shoved him back into the wall again, the poor little table accent toppling over entirely now behind him.

"Stop it with that fucking smug face and stop looking at me like that! This isn't a joke, it isn't cute, it's not funny. I don't care if you've never met a woman before—this isn't how you treat them! You can't just go breaking into their rooms and touching them however you want, do you understand me?" Dog nodded his head, and leaned back against the wall, seeming much at ease as he fished the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one out to her.

"No." She wasn't taking a damn thing from any one of them ever again. He shrugged absently, and placed it between his own lips, having decided that Charlie was no longer a deadly threat and had in fact forgiven him... to some degree. She had yet to sprint back to her room, or try and put that knife into his chest. He knew for a fact that he had something to hold over her, as well.

"Stay out of my room, I'm serious!" She hissed the threat at him, abandoning the faux tone of voice she had spoken to Dog with the previous day... some part of her felt relief at being able to talk normally. He only stared at her, ever fascinated, and began to feel about his attire for his book of matches. "I'm so fucking serious Dog!"

A small smirk teased the Dog's mouth, and he spread his arms to her as if offering her a hug, and she quickly shoved his arms back down to his sides. "Look! I'm married, do you know what that means? I have a husband—I don't want any man who isn't him. No one else. Only him."

He seemed to contemplate her words deeply for a long few moments, but there was no way to tell for certain that he knew what she meant, or even cared. Charlie felt her frustrations grow, feeling as if she was now trying to speak to a brick wall. If he came into her room she surely couldn't stop him, unless she wanted to leave the room and go to another... but would stop him from following her there, and breaking in?

She still couldn't even figure out how the hell he had gotten into her room with the back to the ocean, and the door secured. It didn't cross her mind that anyone would be insane enough, or skilled enough, to go doing acrobatics over balconies to get into the room. What if he thought to tell the other men about her, if she didn't let him do what he pleased? There was too much at stake. She knew she had no choice in the matter now and that every day would be a danger for her. I've got to get the hell out of here...

He puffed the cigarette gingerly as he wrote upon the notepad once again, and she anxiously waited for him to turn it to her eyes. She didn't like what was written there. 'I want to hold you. Keep you safe. Trade?'

"I don't want to trade..." Charlie's voice was dead pan and filled with aggravation, leering at him pointedly. It was clear now that this was a very common means of currency with survivors, trading for things they wanted... but she realized very much that this 'trade' was rather one sided.

He arched a brow gently, and scribbled again at the bottom of the paper just as firmly as she had spoken to him. 'Keep your secret. Let me hold you. Trade.'

"I don't..." She trailed off quietly as realization of what he was doing sunk in. She looked up to see that devious little curl at the edges of his lips, the mirth in his eyes that seemed to inspire her automatically to want to lash out at him once more. "—Are you fucking blackmailing me?!"

He grimaced jokingly through a smile as if to say, I wouldn't really call it blackmail... but yes. A coy grin spread upon his lips, and Charlie scowled at him and wanted to hit him again, but her anger had simmered into a desperate frustration. He was going to do what he wanted, whether she wanted him to do it or not. At least if she played along with him, then he wouldn't think to alert her status as female to his comrades.

She didn't know and frankly didn't want to find out how that conversation would go. Out of them Oz, Diablo and Ruthless seemed relatively straight forward, decent people, but she still barely knew them. They were only half of the group, the other half, well... It was obvious what sort of people they were. And she could always be wrong. The others thought she was a young man, if they knew she was female, there wasn't any telling if their demeanors toward her would be the same.

She swallowed gently, and drew in a deep breath, looking up to Dog who watched her beneath the haphazard mess of his long, dark hair.

"...I'll let you come and lay with me—that's it, though, nothing more... if you promise me you won't say anything to the others." He pressed down the urge to grin as she agreed to his terms, wanting to pull her close and hug her. He settled to ruffle her beanie, gently, and extended his right hand for hers to seal their deal. She moved to grasp his hand, looking less than pleased of the arrangement she had all but been forced into, and stopped briefly, looking up at him with agitated certainty. "You only come when I say. No breaking into my room—and I swear, if you ever drug me again, I'll cut your dick off and throw it into the ocean."

His eyes went wide at her threat, and he knew from the venom in her tone of voice that she wasn't joking. He nodded in certain understanding as she finally grasped his hand, not feeling the slightest bit confident in her arrangement... but what choice did she honestly have, right at this moment? I hope I don't regret this... It dawned on her that there shouldn't even be a reason that this arrangement was plausible, because the men were never intending to stick around... were they?

"I thought you were leaving... Your group is leaving... right?" As they released one another from the binding shake, he frowned a bit and crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly even though he had been the one to offer the final thumbs up on that decision. Distress gripped her at the information. She shouldn't have been so surprised at it. "Yeah... that's what I thought. How long are you staying here? I thought you were going somewhere north—to Columbia, or something."

He preferred having his silence, honestly. He didn't seek to fish out the notepad now that he was no longer having his life threatened or in fear of losing Charlie's attention due to his lusty recklessness. He didn't much want to discuss Oz's choice of direction... he would follow it without question, yes, but he preferred to leave the debates, discussions and commands to the brothers.

Charlie seemed to have sunk into her own thoughts as she looked away from Dog, trying not to be too disheartened at this new information. She should have never expected anything different. An angry letter from a teenaged boy wasn't likely enough to pass up on such a good find. So, her feeble attempts to cling to this place just a little while longer were gone in the wind now, and she realized she had two choices now; either flee at her earliest convenience or try and play out the part of a teenaged boy until they reached a new safe haven.