With This Gun.

Chapter 8.

I had been laying on my bed for two days straight. I was quite bored. I found myself making the bedroom messy, cleaning it and then repeating. Nobody ever knocked or wanted to talk. I heard the occasional group of girls walk by and giggle. I tried to ignore that. My depression wore on.

I hoped Europe would be a new experience for me. Where I could live and do things I’d never done before. Maybe make some new friends and have the time of my lif-existence. I found myself smiling for the first time in five days. It was a good feeling, but didn’t last long.

I pressed a pillow over my head and sighed. When I pulled it off, I felt my longish, dark brown hair go up with the static. I shook my head trying to rid it, with no success of any sort. I got up and went to the vanity mirror that lay across from the bed. I picked up a hairbrush and my hair quickly went down. I sighed, well, I might as well since I’m up.

I walked to the door and opened it. I should explore the ship a little more. Maybe eat some human food so people don’t get suspicious. I walked to the central room where the kitchen and diner were. I stood for a second unsure if I actually should try human food. I probably wouldn’t taste it much.

I looked around at the people sitting. They paid very little attention to me. My eyes landed on a girl, sitting alone, who stared back at me. I smiled warmly and tried not to read her thoughts. She smiled back shyly. I walked up to her and asked to sit down, she nodded. She was very pretty. More like radiant. I couldn’t help myself anymore, I listened in on everything she was thinking. I smiled. At least I wasn’t the only one here.