Sick Bastards Read Free Page B

wanted a lie. Perhaps - considering what (or who) was stretched out on the table in front of us - he wanted the chance to feel normal again. Even if it was a lie.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “What have you been doing today?” Father would ask us.
     
    Our first answers were that we had been watching out of the window for them .
     
    “Don’t tell me that,” he had stopped us, “tell me what you would have been doing. On a normal day. That’s what I want to hear. Your mother and I. That’s what we want to hear.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    “I met this guy,” said Sister. She was looking directly at the meat who was continuing to slowly come round despite the blood loss. I’m surprised. Normally they don’t wake up again once they fall unconscious. “He’s just moved to the area from up north. For some reason he took a shine to me and introduced himself to me before introducing himself to anyone else in the class. It’s funny,” she continued, “we’ve only just met but we have so much in common. We like the same television shows, we both want to become doctors, both have a love of animals...He’s really nice. We’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow. You never know, I might get asked to the end of year dance yet...”
     
    “And why wouldn’t you? You’re beautiful!” Father smiled.
     
    Father was right. She was beautiful. Brilliant blue eyes that dazzled like precious stones despite the dim light offered by the candles dotted around the room. Long eyelashes. The blondest of hair and full, kissable lips. A perfect size eight although I’m not sure whether that’s because she’s naturally slim or because of the lack of food. I suspect, given the rest of her features, it’s the first of the two options.
     
    To this day I still don’t understand how such a creature could come from Mother and Father. Neither of them were skinny, neither of them had blonde hair (both had dark) and neither had blue eyes (Father had dark brown and Mother had green eyes). Other than the weight (I’m pretty slim too) at least I appear to have inherited the same genes as Mother and Father with the dark eyes and dark hair. Thankfully I got Father’s height - the pair of us knocking on six foot two inches.
     
    The meat started to get more vocal as it realised it hadn’t been dreaming. We did our best to ignore it as Father looked to me - expecting my answer to his question. I hated these questions. It was hard to remember what I enjoyed doing before the bomb, before all this. Did I do normal activities before any of this? I don’t remember them. Did I play computer games with friends? Did I like to go out drinking and dancing? Was I even social? I don’t feel as though I may have been. I feel as though I could have preferred my own company. Maybe.
     
    “Well?” Father asked.
     
    Mother sensed that I was struggling to think of something that would be deemed satisfactory so she chipped in with her own day, “I went shopping!” she said as she took another bite of the fleshy mess upon her plate. She licked her lips.
     
    “Oh?”
     
    “I found the most beautiful dress. It was long, flowing...”
     
    “What colour?”
     
    “Red.”
     
    “Matching shoes?” Father was getting into Mother’s scenario with a smile on his face. He relished the chance to escape to a different (better) world.
     
    “High heels. Admittedly, I don’t have anywhere to wear the clothes but I was hoping that - when you saw me in them - you’d want to take me to...”
     
    Father interrupted, “The finest restaurant! There’d be a piano in the corner of the room. A pianist effortlessly playing a quiet tune as the diners - on surrounding tables - enjoy the finest cuisine from around the world. The low murmur of happy chitter-chatter from the patrons as staff busy themselves making sure everyone is catered for. The occasional chinking sound as wines glasses come together to toast various celebrations. I’d have the fish,” he continued. “What