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But of course she’ll come back. She wouldn’t leave her kids.
Unless she thought they were in better hands…
A sick thought twists in my mind. Is it possible she’s left them, no longer wanting to deal with them anymore?
I don’t want to think that she would, but dealing with two kids during the apocalypse has got to be a fucking job.
Maybe that’s why she blew me. To get me to stay long enough for her to leave.
This is not good, and by that, I mean it fucking sucks. I could take them to the Keep, but traveling across the city with two brats is a risk. If I could get to a radio, I could call for help, but how am I going to tell them to keep quiet while I’m gone?
Fuck-fuck-fuck…
I brush my teeth with Suki’s toothbrush, figuring that hygiene went out the window the moment her lips wrapped around my dick.
One fucking kid is bad enough, but there are two! One hates me. The other fucking judges me with those damn toddler eyes.
I’m not cut out for this. I kill cactuses, and they’re the easiest thing to care for. There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to keep two actual human beings alive for any amount of time.
Take a deep breath. You’ve got this under control. All you have to do is get them to the Keep…
I exit the bathroom to the boys’ critical gazes. And no, that’s not an exaggeration.
“Now, listen here—I know we got off on the wrong foot,” I say, limping back and forth across the room, “but things don’t have to be bad. I have a place I can take you. You just have to…”
I look down at them, realizing they can’t understand me.
“Well, fuck!” I thrust my fingers through my hair. “You better be fucking potty trained, because the apocalypse is stinky enough as it is.”
What if they’re picky eaters?They could die of starvation.
Perhaps that’s a bit extreme…or maybe not. Once I passed out because my mom tried to feed me carrots and I held my breath.
I can’t fucking do this. I need to get back to the Keep.
Hyun shimmies off the bed.
“Uh, what are you up to?”
He disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Do I follow him? Is that creepy? What if he needs help?
I can honestly say getting stabbed in the leg was less terrifying than this. I amnota father,nota babysitter,nota caregiver—I’m muthafuckin’ pest control.
The soft sound of sobbing comes from the bathroom. The handle jiggles, followed by more sobs.
Jesus Christ, he can’t even open the bathroom door.
I grab the handle, but it refuses to turn.
He’s locked himself in.
“Ah, just turn the little nodule thing on the knob,” I say, unsure of how to issue instructions to a Korean-speaking child.
I look over at his brother with a raised brow, but he’s still working on his peaches.
The sobs grow louder, into a siren’s wail.
