Hunted || Wesari

Chapter Ten: Star Wars Day

He was strung up by his ankles.

The entirety of Mari's group was in front of him, watching. Underneath him were several bowls, ready to catch his blood. Ian was delivering a speech, though Wes couldn't make out what he was saying. The crowd cheered.

Ian gestured at Mari, who's purple hair was gleaming in the moonlight, along with the sequins on her jacket. She walked over to Wes and crutched down before him, giving him a smile while she produced a knife from her belt. He tried to struggle, but the ropes were too tight. 

She brought the knife to the side of his throat, drawing blood. Wes gulped as he felt the cold metal pierce his skin, and a tear rolled down his face. Mari closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, so quietly that Wes could barely hear her. Then, in one quick, fluid movement, she brought the blade across his throat, slicing his neck. Blood poured from the wound as he chocked, and the crowd screamed in excitement. 

Wes woke up with a start, sweat dripping from his forehead. He'd been having that nightmare for the past seven days, ever since Courtney rescued him. He didn't know why. Of course, he could understand that he was scared about what would happen if Mari caught him; he didn't need a dream to tell him that. But the fact that she apologized for it, like she didn't want to do it when Wes knew that she did, that was... unexplainable. 

Maybe he just wanted to humanize her, to believe there was some good in her. Wes had always had trouble with that. He could never just accept that some people were bad; he just couldn't believe that. How could someone just be pure evil, to not care about others at all, to not even have a drop of humanity?

It wasn't helping much, either, that Mari was beautiful. He'd stopped denying it to himself; any person with eyes could see that she was, with her perfect face and fit body, and the way she managed to look good in everything. His mother- his good old, trophy-wife mother -had always taught him that beautiful people were always good people, trustworthy people. It seemed like her words had stuck. It had stuck with his brother, Trenton, too; right up until he shot himself in the head.

Wes climbed out of bed and opened the curtains. It was a sunny day, like always. Downstairs, he could hear the opening of cabinets, which he assumed was Courtney, making breakfast.

Over the past week, he'd pretty much figured out how things were run here. Oliva did most of the traditionally masculine tasks, like fishing and farming, while Courtney did most of the feminine, like cooking and sewing. But it wasn't completely set in stone; Courtney loved hunting, which was why she was such a good shot. And Olivia always did the laundry, down by the river, along with the dishwashing.

Wes was a wild card. Whatever task that he could perform with only one hand, they had him do. Olivia's doing the dishes? He was on drying duty. Courtney's cooking? He's handing her ingredients and setting the table. He helped out where he could, and never complained; though he couldn't wait until his arm healed. It would make everything so much easier.

That was, of course, if he stayed. He figured that it would take Mari awhile to find him, as she could only be going off footprints for now. Two days ago, he had Courtney take him to the spot where the bear mauled him, making sure they hadn't left behind any footprints. On their way back, he made sure that they covered their tracks, by either swiping them away or covering them with rocks or leaves. They couldn't do much about the cracked tree or bear carcass, but Wes would be damned if he made Mari's job easier by giving her a trail to follow.

In all honesty, he didn't want to leave. Sure, Olivia hated him, but he understood that; they were barely a step above strangers, and he had openly admitted to putting all of them in danger with his presence. If their roles were reversed, Wes would feel the same way about her.