Page 8 of Dealing With Drak

I cock an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “I wish to know what saddens you.”

Yeah, Drak, you wish to know everything.

“I do not like to see you frown.”

I’m not frowning, I want to snap. But I probably am.

“I wish to help—” he tries to add, but it’s too much. I cut him off before my head explodes with everything I keep inside just for me.

“I want to go find my brothers, alright?” My frustrated confession rolls off of my tongue like venom. It’s loud, so loud that my voice cracks on the last word and my ears give a small pop at the expansion of my jaw.

I don’t like being overly snappy. Cold, aloof, standoffish, and prone to violence, sure. I’m able to recognize my typical not-so sunshiney attitude. This is not that. It’s something entirely different, and I don’t know how to stop it. If I keep shouting like this, I’m going to toss myself into a pit of zombies just to make myself shut up. Humans being able to annoy themselves is a serious design flaw.

And I’m experiencing double—no, triple—the annoyance. I’m irritated with my yelling, uncontrollably overwhelmed by Drak, and annoyed with myself for letting him affect me. I’m even a bit upset with myself for snapping at him, though I don’t apologize for it. I just… this alien drives me nuts!

An-nana this, An-nana that.

What are you thinking of, Mean One?

Ah! Mean One, will you hunt with me this day?

An-nana, you look ferociously lovely in blood.

God, he makes me so…

Ugh.

All day today he’s been bugging me, and I just finally got a break from him when I came up here. He’d been chatting my ear off for hours before that. Asking why I don’t want to talk, why I don’t want to practice with his blades, what food I want, why I want so little of it—it’s never ending.

Can’t a girl have a bad day without being pestered by a big-ass alien man begging for her attention? I like to sulk, in peace.

All week the reality that my family is likely dead has been weighing heavier and heavier on me. I had excuses before, to not search for them. I couldn’t leave my sorority unprotected—lord knows those girls don’t know shit about fighting off the undead.

But it’s been nearly two months since six huge alien warriors showed up and started guarding us like precious jewels. The pricks stole every responsibility of mine, moved on in at the invitation of my more terrified roommates, and two of them fell fucking in love. My stomach twists just thinking about it.

Nevertheless, the Aprixians—minus Rem and Marrec who have taken Sarah and Stevie to their planet—are staying. At least, they’re staying until we decide to go. They have an unflinching moral code when it comes to women. They won’t leave us unprotected, even if we never want to go. They’ll die guarding us on a destroyed planet before leaving any of us behind. Trust me, I’ve asked.

So now they’re here, keeping us safe, and that means there’s nothing preventing me from searching for my family. Except for the fact that I’m not sure I can handle the difference between assuming they’re all dead, and being sure they’re all dead. What a nightmare.

“And keep your mouth shut about it,” I add, harshly warning him as I lay down against the cold roof to watch the stars. “I don’t want to hear everyone say how ridiculous it is.”

Drak, never understanding personal space, looms over me, blocking out the night sky with his hulking frame. His thick, defined brows pull in, and I know he’s confused.

“What is ridiculous? You wish to see your family, this is not strange to me.”

I sigh, but don’t kick him in the balls, even though I could from this angle. He’s bent at the waist but his knees are straight as he peers down at me curiously.

“They’re probably dead, Drak,” I state dryly. “It would be stupid to waste the time and the resources to search for dead people. They’re probably fucking zombies, so?—”

“This I do not believe,” he interrupts. “Your family is a fierce one, An-nana. They share your blood, and you have been crafted amongst them. The zom-bays will not have conquered them just as they have not conquered you.”

I want to punch him in the face, or maybe hug him for his open confidence and the treacherous hope it fills me with.

“There is no waste,” Drak adds, considering my previous words. “We have endless supplies and much time. You wish to hunt for your brothers? I will take you.”

“You’re making fun of me,” I accuse, curling my lip upward.

He huffs. “I do not make you anything. Mean One, if you are fun, it is because you are fun. I hold no power over you. It is as troubling as it is true.”