The quintet of friends were in various parts of the kitchen. None of them wanted to stray too far from their nucleus. It was futile reassurance, much like how a person may feel at ease in bed as long as their feet are covered with a blanket. For some reason, a demon or ghoul would find it unbecoming to grab a covered limb. They must only grab the exposed limbs. A silly train of thought that must have influence over just about every person; considering how popular those kinds of rationalizations are.

If a killer were to break into this house, and attack them right out, they had knives to defend themselves. They had numbers to defend themselves. That gave them a level of comfort. Maybe someone would get injured, but surely not killed. Not with everyone present. Or maybe the killer knew some kind of martial arts that made them an incredibly formidable foe. Even against five people. Is that better or worse than a zombie-like murderer who could take a hundred bullets to the head and still get back up?

“A zombie or a ninja?” These words came out of Evan’s mouth in a mumbled fashion.

Tyrone, sorting through the proper ingredients for a piña colada, turned to Evan, “What was that buddy?”

Evan snapped out of his trance and responded, “Nothing, man. How many steaks did you guys want? We’ve got seven of them, but they’re not huge so we could probably eat all of them.”

Tony sprinkled some grinded weed into a joint and then held up two fingers, “You know Tony needs his nutrients to be a big strong man when he grows up.”

Anne was preparing some baked potatoes and smiled, “I’ll probably be fine with one.”

Jennifer, scanning for some music to play, “Might as well cook them all, we’ve got hella food in that fridge and pantry.”

Evan slapped the steaks on top of various pans on the stove. He couldn’t help but think about who might be watching from the outside. Who might be smelling the fumes of this food that was being prepared? The kush smoke would be lingering in the air, seeping outside the cracks under the doors for someone incredibly close to catch the scent. They would have to be close to smell it. They would have to be right outside the door. Their ear pressed to the wood, their fingers tapping, caressing the door. Close enough to hear the words that they speak….

“Who the fuck….” Evan’s voice trailed off. He was outside, barefoot, and was staring at the police vehicle outside of his house. The air was bitterly cold. Much colder than it had been during the day.

The officer lowered the driver’s seat window, “Everything ok, son?”

Evan offered a weak smile, “Yes sir. Sorry, I guess I was just checking to see how the weather felt. You have a good night, officer.”

Evan closed the door, turned and walked into a stiff body. Evan blinked out of surprise and was met with Tyrone’s face. “You good man? Kind of just opened the easiest access point in the house without saying anything when you left the kitchen.”

Evan was a little bothered by the question, until he remembered the others probably felt more at ease when they were all together. It was understandable. Evan put his hand on Tyrone’s shoulder and nodded. They reached the kitchen to find Tony holding up two lit joints.

“It’s time to mellow the fuck out, ladies and gentlemen.”

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The second officer entered the patrol vehicle and joined her colleague. “Nothing, as expected.”

“Does Davie expect our force to donate a pair of us to these kids and their house every single day? I get the kids need some help, but shit. That storm is gonna be here tomorrow. I’m not sure how he expects a car to drive out here in that kind of weather. Hell, even afterwards it’s gonna take a little time. Can’t expect a car to be out here in that storm either. Someone’s gonna freeze to death.”

“Carl, calm down. It won’t be one of us. We’re off the clock after tonight.”

“I get it, Janet, but still. I’m not just worried about one of our own. If this storm leaves an opening, it might not be good news for those kids.”

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The group was sufficiently high and eating the meal they had prepared. Anne, her eyes red as someone who hadn’t slept in days, laughing like a middle schooler after hearing something that sounds vaguely sexual, proclaimed, “I tell you what Tyrone, these piña coladas are some good ass shit!”

Tyrone with a wide grin raised his glass, “I’ll drink to that gyot damn it!”

Evan glanced over at Tony, “You’ve been awfully quiet Tony-boy. You ok, y’know, given the circumstances?”

Tony gave a very soft chuckle, “Honestly? I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ve been this scared since my childhood, and even then, this might be worse.”

Jennifer inquired, “What do you mean? What happened as a kid? Totally asking from a caring place, I’m putting aside my psychiatry major brain.”

Evan nodded, “Yeah, to be honest buddy, I don’t think we’ve really ever talked about how we grew up. I mean you guys know some about my family, I know some of yours. I dunno, I don’t think we’ve ever really delved that deep into each other. It makes sense, of course. I’m not sure how often childhood trauma and experiences really fit into our general conversations.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Evan let out a light chortle. A faint laugh intermixed with a brief fit of coughs spurred on by the smoking. No one spoke for several seconds. Tyrone broke through the silence with a gentle inquiry, “Well, I guess since these worms have been de-canned and all… want to share?”

Tony shrugged softly, “Well, I grew up in a pretty rough part of China. My parents were born in South Korea, but we moved to China when I was like a year old. I couldn’t tell you why we moved. But my parents were Christians, and in our neck of the woods, that didn’t fly. Most of my childhood was spent dodging folks due to our religion. We would worship in secret. A lot of my friends were Christians. I think I’m the only one that saw the age of 10. Don't get me wrong, it’s not like they died gangbanging for Christ or anything. Plenty of things in plenty of places that make it difficult to see your teen years.”

Tyrone interjected, “Jesus. I never pegged you as religious, Tony.”

Tony gave a surprisingly large smile, “I’m not. At least not anymore. I struggled with my faith a lot as a kid. You know, why are we practicing this religion, praying to this God? We’re the ones getting imprisoned and shit on, y’know? Certain folks might gun you down like a dog for it. Shit didn’t make sense to me.

So, my parents managed to get me involved in one of those foreign exchange programs. I was with a nice enough family. It was easy to be a Christian here. We lived in a pretty decent part of Detroit. I had friends who got gunned down, but it was for drugs, not religion. My faith grew a lot that year, cause we lived well. We had a good life. I hated the idea of going back home. But I did miss my family. Then the family I lived with got news that their child died. So did my parents. Not some anti-religious slaying or anything. Car crash. Easy as that.

I was able to claim asylum here in the States. I’m not sure why, but the family I had been living with during the program took me in. Unfortunately, the family hated me. They never told me, but I know they did. Never took me to church again. It was like they were trying to get me exiled from heaven by not taking me to church. Guess it worked. I renounced my faith. I focused on learning everything else. Graduated a year early to get out of that situation. Full ride scholarship so that I wouldn’t need to rely on them for anything and we could just go our separate ways, no questions asked.”

The room was silent. No one had anything to say to him. None of them would have guessed even an inkling of this story. Tony continued, “That’s why I’m a big boy haha. I was skin and bones back in China. I felt like taking any kind of surplus food at my newly adoptive parents’ home was just robbing them, since I had already robbed them of their child. So after I graduated I ate like a motherfucker, because I earned that. Some people are gunned down for no reason. They live their lives in shit situations and just barely scrape by. They live to be 80, suffering their entire lives, or they live to be 13, still only knowing suffering. Fuck that. If I died of a heart attack at 35, then so be it. I lived a happy existence while I could and I’ll happily let food kill me before I let someone else do it to me.

But now I’m scared like I’ve never been scared before. Back in China, they were killing all of us, not just me. So I had a chance to slip through the cracks. And hell, even if I died, what was I losing out on? Another few years of eating scraps and dodging everyone that might turn me in? Naw, it’d suck to die but it’d probably be the best thing in the long run. But now I’ve got happiness. I’ve got things I’m scared to lose out on…. I don’t control my own destiny anymore. Once again, someone else has me in their hand, and I hate it. I don’t want to die.”

Evan shook his head, “You’re not going to die, man.”

Tony offered Evan a thankful look, but stated, “You don’t know that. Neither do I. Shit sucks, but it is what it is. So… anybody else got fun stories to tell?”

Evan looked around and shrugged, “I don’t have anything like that to share, but I’ll offer something so you’re not on an island. I’m scared too. I’m scared, because my mom has been dealing with manic depression for years now. She’s tried to kill herself twice in the last five years. The first time, she claimed, was an accident. I know it wasn’t. The second time she didn’t even deny it. They thought about locking her up in a…” Evan’s voice trailed off and wavered slightly. He swallowed and continued, “ But my dad didn’t think that would be best. I didn’t either. It’s been about two years since then, but I’ve heard her talk to herself. She fights herself every day. She wants to end her life so badly, but she’s seen what it’s done to my dad and me now. Twice. She doesn’t want to hurt us like that again. But I know it’s a struggle for her to not go ahead and end it all. She hates herself, but she loves us.

I’m scared that if I die, she’s not going to have one of her main inhibitions and she’ll do it again. Then it’ll just be my dad and I’m not sure how he’s going to cope. If I die, I think that there’s a good chance that my mom does too and who knows… maybe even my dad. I’m afraid I’m going to end up being why they hurt themselves if I can’t stay alive. Fuck, how the hell am I supposed to be in the FBI if I can’t survive this. I’m scared as hell, though.”

More silence followed this. The friends gave Evan sympathetic looks. They all seemed to have an understanding that these confessions didn’t require feedback.

Jennifer cleared her throat and spoke softly, “Growing up, my family was incredibly racist. Tyrone knows that I don’t have the best relationship with them. They were awful human beings. I went into psychology, because I wanted to understand just why someone could be so hateful to others, for something as trivial as race. I always thought that once I figured out how to be the best psychiatrist I could be; I could figure out what’s wrong with them. I could help. I’m not just scared of dying; I’m scared I’ll die before I get to help any of them. I’m scared I’ll die before I can fix them and they’ll just continue on living their shitty, hateful existence.”

Tyrone rubbed her back with his left hand as he began to speak, “Back in Baltimore, my family lives in the hood. Like, dangerous-die-any-day kind of hood. Even as a kid, I was more worried about my family members dying. For whatever reason, I knew I wouldn’t die. I knew I had a higher purpose and if I got the opportunity to get out of Baltimore, well, that would all but assure me that I was meant for more. I didn’t get any scholarships for football, but I got that scholarship for engineering.

Bullets got shot every day and every night around where my family stayed at. Every day I was worried my family wouldn’t make it back home, but they did. Once I get a job, a good paying job, I can move my family out of that shit and into safety. Close to me.

This is the first time I’ve ever been scared about my own safety, if I’m being honest. Kind of like Tony said. Motherfuckers were dying every day around me, and any day I could’ve been one of those bodies, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t the target. Now I feel like I am. I’m scared for myself, but I’m also scared that if I die, my family’s got no shot at a future where they can be safe.”

Tony interjected, “I don’t know, Tyrone, sounds like your family wouldn’t be too safe if you married into the Klan with Jessica.” There was a small bout of laughter. It felt nice.

Tyrone raised his gaze to Anne, “How about you, Anne? Anything you want to get off your chest?”

Anne shrugged, “I’ve lived a relatively fortunate life. I could always tell that my father would have rather had a son, but he never loved me any less. My family always supported me in all my endeavors. I’ve been blessed for most of my life. Honestly, I’m just scared. I don’t have the reasons you guys have and I feel shitty about that. Like, if someone here has to go, it should be me. You guys have more on the line…” Tony tightened his embrace on her.

“Babe don’t ever say that. No one here is going to die and no one here deserves any kind of fate. I don’t want to hear you talk like that.”

Evan chimed in, “He’s right Anne. This isn’t a competition of who deserves to die first. Mostly, because I can tell you with utmost certainty that none of us are dying here. And just because you’ve had a good life, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be just as scared as the rest of us. Don’t think you haven’t earned the right to be terrified. We all are. But we’re also all going to be ok.”