Queen Of The Castaway Isle

Have you ever felt hunger till it shakes your core? Then drops you, leagues, below, as the earth shakes. The hunger that renders you weak, immobile even. Can't stand straight, can't see straight. Couldn't even hold a morsel, even if you wanted to.

People have done desperate things for less.

The makeshift shack was barely any protection. Hardly could it be called walls, with its wonky tied sticks and branches, coverings of grass everywhere. It was spacious yes, but it leaked. The attempts at mud and stone outer messy and last minute. Melting steadily in the rain.

It was by no means soundproof.

Not that it was mattered in the roar of the rain.

*slap slap slap*

Wet. A gross wet groan sounded out, low and guttural. Any subsequent m.o.a.ning drowned out in the sound of the rain.

One woman, in particular, couldn't even m.o.a.n, nor scream, not even if she wanted to. Her mouth gagged with one man, while another had his way with her from behind.

"Yeah, you're hungry ain't cha?" he sleazily g.r.o.a.n.e.d, slapping her jigging a.s.s repeatedly.

As she tightened, yelped in twisted pain and p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e with each reddening smack, the other m.o.a.n.e.d at the vibrations created in her throat. The more she cried, the better, tighter, it felt for them.

"You want more don't cha?!"

The brutal pace increased even more, pounding into her harshly. She couldn't breathe. Back and forth, she couldn't escape either way she crawled. Back and forth, a terrible tug on war at a frightening speed.

Not till they finished. Truly, finally finished.

Blessings came in small places. She couldn't breathe. The thing in her throat twitched wildly, rough hands holding her head in place as it slammed and splurted straight down.

"Yeah. That's it. Swallow it. Swallow it all down, mmm that's a good bitch." the other man in front m.o.a.n.e.d, slowly releasing her mouth with a wet trail.

Didn't even give her a chance to choke. Warm c.u.m barely anything but a bad stench in her overheated body, pooling into her stomach. The one in the back still going like a rabbit, hitting spots her husband never bothered.

Guilt wrecked her. That was the worst part of it all. Not the pain, or the humiliation, but the pure guilt. She had her babies, a husband, she was a good person, what the hell was she doing out here like this? With these strange brute men? What was she doing?!

But it was her husband that put her here in the first place.

"Ah ah ah, pl-please! Not! Ahhh~ Not insiiiiiide!!! AHHH!!!" she screamed, hot tears still falling as she felt how that rod rammed at her, inside her.

Her face was wrecked she was sure, but below felt far worse. Scrapped and split in half.

Her husband hadn't touched her in years. She wasn't on anything, no pill, nothing. The guilt and fear wrecked her. She couldn't get pregnant. Not out here, not like this.

They moved her, sat her right up from her weary knees, groping at her n.a.k.e.d b.r.e.a.s.t and still pounding away. The man f.u.c.k.i.n.g her in his l.a.p twisted her head, forcing a filthy kiss she couldn't help but m.o.a.n into. The man who just finished was slowly hardening again, lavishing her b.r.e.a.s.ts his full attention. L.i.c.k.i.n.g, s.u.c.k.i.n.g, groping.

Two sets of hands, too much stimulation. Going from zero to all this, it was too much.

She felt so dirty. So good and dirty. There was no other man in her life but her husband, and he hasn't touched her in years.

Even back then he didn't touch her even half as terribly, as wonderful, as this. She hasn't ever been appreciated as a woman or used in such a way, hasn't ever felt anything this before. The guilt over feeling any sort of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, let along this insanity was destroying her.

"Come on! C.u.m for me again! Yeah, tighten up just like that! Ohhh fuuuck yeah."

There was nothing she could do but scream. Cry.

The thing still pounding away, muscles rippling behind her, all around her. Trapping her. Appreciative groans and hums, lips on her skin. Hums of how s.e.xy and beautiful she was at this moment, m.o.a.ning and gasping for breath like she's never done before. These strange men were making her, a married mother, m.o.a.n like a s.l.u.t.

It was pure torture, just how terribly good it all felt.

She's so tired. Been so tired all this time.

The kids cried, her husband complained, and she was just so tired. Tired of worrying for nothing, tired of mentally and physically taking care of every little thing. There was already too little, and everything was so dirty.

The kids were just so hungry all the time.

It's not like food and shelter just grew on trees. Someone tried eating random things without knowing what they were doing and they get sick, or worse. She'd witnessed people fall over, vomiting up worms and staining their pants. It was as if nothing was safe, not even the monstrous fish invaded water.

Except for the kind that fell from the sky.

Rain clamored all around them, flooding the world outside with skies of flimsy grey. The rain was as much a relief as it was a burden. They needed better shelter against it, they needed so much. She was just so tired from worrying about it all.

Then one day, her husband came back with them. These strangers and their even stranger offer.

She was just so tired.

A thick burly hand sn.a.k.e.d its way down between her moist legs, attacking where she was already overs.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e, overwhelmed. Those rough fingers pleasuring her beyond anything she could handle while his fat meat still rammed away, swelling inside until it burst.

She screamed like she was dying. All these spots being touched, over, inside, made her feel like she was dying without even a fight.

Without her control, something she's already lost god knows how long ago, her body spasmed. Shaking, crying, m.o.a.ning in fear, shame and forced o.r.g.a.s.ms after earth-shattering o.r.g.a.s.ms. Something her own husband failed to provide. Same like he failed in a lot of other ways.

She felt so damn filthy, even if it was the highest she ever felt in her life. She's never been f.u.c.k.e.d so much, so hard. She felt her mind float away, again, as her body coped the only way it could against something like this. Accepting it, with p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

She couldn't breathe but she couldn't stop crying.

"Yeah, clean that up." the big man m.o.a.n.e.d, pulling her off him as easily as if she were a sleeve.

Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head over to that. That alien thing that was just inside her. Then bent her head down till it pressed entirely over her face.

The stench was almost overwhelming, even as the air of fresh rain fell around them. Wind drifting through all the gaps, raising goosebumps across her heated flesh and keeping her n.i.p.p.l.es painfully hard.

"Hurry up whore, your man and kids are waiting for you." he laughed, smacking her a.s.s again.

That's right, she made this choice. She could blame her useless husband all she liked but she made this choice and now she has to see it to the disgusting end.

She stuck out her tongue, l.i.c.k.i.n.g him clean. There wasn't much in her stomach to heave out anyways.

There were all different ages but so much stronger and rougher than her husband. It was mind-boggling how they were all the same species, all men.

In any other situation, any other day, she wouldn't have noticed. Wouldn't be forced to this point. She might have passed them at the supermarket, after PTA meetings or dropping the kids off at practice.

How did she get here?

"You left a mess you nasty f.u.c.k." a third man complained, previously resting from the last round.

He gave her a look over like one considers still eating something they dropped on the ground. If the 5-second rule was still good in this case. When he first took her, ripping off her clothes to savor the skin between her b.r.e.a.s.ts till they bruised, he called her beautiful. Promised to send her to heaven in pure p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, delivered it too. Repeatedly. Promised much more, for the price of being their pretty whore,

Now she just felt like half tossed trash, crumpled and filthy.

She begins to think that they really do have more in common with her husband than she thought.

"Well there's one spot we haven't used." the second man hummed, groping the flesh of her a.s.s. Massaging in slow circles.

She blearily wonders if there are any tears left to cry.

She's so tired. So hungry, her limbs shook. Her stomach dropped at the same time it roared in heat and fire that had nothing to do with the s.e.x. Though she couldn't ignore the dull throbbing from where bruises would certainly form if they haven't already.

When the endorphins faded, the heavy high of the last tiresome o.r.g.a.s.m fading, the pain returned.

Yes, as drained as she was, as f.u.c.k.i.n.g thirsty as she was, her eyes could still shed tears.

"Please, mercy, please." she weakly shook.

Shivered from the n.a.k.e.d wind, head trembling with what strength she had left. Shook even harder when she felt something rub directly where she's never been touched before.

"Sssshhh, didn't I promise you? I'd make it feel good." he crooned into her ear, wet tongue l.i.c.k.i.n.g along the pink edge.

She cried even harder.

"Yooo hooo! Now anybody in there? Any at all?~" called out a voice.

Whatever the scene, no matter the stench of s.e.x or the n.a.k.e.d ravished woman in the center of it all, it was hard to well, stay hard against the heavy accent of an old overly cheerful granny. Complete a southern drawl and a smoker's rasp.

Outside the messy excuse of a hut, stood said old woman with a portable umbrella, further fortified with still green palm leaves tied to the surface. She held it like a parasol in the sun instead of the absolute rain of cats and dogs that it was. Flashlight hanging from her neck like a tourist. When someone peeked out, she waved as if they were old neighbors.

"Howdy! Now I knew there be folks right up in here."

"F.u.c.k off!" yelled the third man, voice traveling through the rain and storm. "Mind your own business if you know what's good for you."

"Why I be passing along the news! Now you don't have to listen but once I say my peace like them kind folks at the plane told us to, I'll be right along my way. There's new work to be done and a need for strong hands. Pay in three meals a day and credits. Bet it be taken up with the skies like this. Ain't much anyone can be doing out in these pools!" she approached as she talked, walking right up by the door like any overly familiar auntie.

The men were already pulling up their pants. The old woman had a point, there wasn't any chance of hunting in times like these. Their food rations weren't going to last forever, especially since they spend a decent slab of almost bad meat on trade for their daily p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

Wasn't much else to do out here.

Real suburban mom type, with blond highlights in her hair. Not yet too old and looked good enough to eat in them little yoga pants. Skin and full b.r.e.a.s.ts still in place. Not the youngest or prettiest thing around but a very good few handfuls.

A fun and satisfying last few hours they could agree.

"What's in the basket old woman?" one of them sneered.

"Why, now that ain't no way to talk I'm sure your mothers taught ya'll that well and good! But it be rough times, testing times from our Lord. Don't disappoint him. If you must know, there be my knitting needles and it ain't no yarm but we make do with what we have. No good complaining. Most importantly I always carry my bible with me, especially in times like these. You never know when the word of our Lord and savior is needed to guide us. "

"Right right, got it."

There was little use threatening or even arguing against a bible hoppin granny like this. A harmless, albeit annoying, old woman. Possibly already senile.

The men were rough. They were picking up on the new rules of survival, the informal rules to get ahead. They had no qualms about pressuring and banging a weaker man's goodie two shoe wife for half a day straight. Nor any guilt about paying for it.

All just good fun, charity even, feeding those in need while lending a helping hand. She got some help building shelter, some food, and a water catcher dug and drawn for her family. It was all consensual. Why the lady even enjoyed it! They made sure of that, with all the attention they lavished.

A welcome outlet and relief. Everyone won in their books.

Didn't make them criminals or anything. It wasn't like they were out to beat anyone up, women or chubby old ladies especially.

One of them even bowed his hat on the way out. Eager to see what pay was in store, something new to liven things up. A hot meal maybe.

"Call on me any time your man don't satisfy you now." one of them left the tired woman with something that could be called a goodbye kiss as he left, having enough respect to pass her an oversized shirt and thin airline blanket before their 'guest' called.

After all, a lady is a lady. It's not like they r.a.p.ed her.

When they finally left over yonder, far enough out of sight to the main center of the camp that the airline had set up as their base, Mary Beth sighed with dropped relief.

"Hi there honey, my you look exhausted. Need anything? How about something to drink?"

Thick wrinkled hand moved as she talked, making herself right at home in this little space. If that was even possible. She asked sweetly, but uselessly like cheerful chatter to fill the silence, already scooping up a meager plastic cup with rain water to pass along.

"Drink this down for now, water will do you good." Mary Beth looked around, bottle glasses making her eyes bug wide.

She sighed at the limited options in sight. Even the most quickly put up shared shelters were better than this shack. More importantly, was the young woman, still very young to a person as aged as Mary Beth alright?

She curled up into herself, accepting the water meekly with her head bowed low. As if afraid, ashamed to meet anyone's eyes. But she drank thirstily, the little cup wasn't enough. Her hand shook even as she drank down to the last drop, trying to rinse her mouth of the foul after taste.

It wasn't enough.

"Now you look plum tuckered out, but I be reckoning you'll thank yourself if you clean up first. Come on, come here."

The old woman didn't kneel, that be bad for her knees at her age, but she set down a mat and a makeshift bucket of water, along with a rag. It wasn't warm by any means but they were working fast first.

"I-" the woman curled up, still shaking. Unable to even look up.

"God don't give me the right to judge. I'm sure you had your reasons. Now pardon me but you don't strike me as the type to be wanted another bun in the oven! Let's get that cleaned up as best we can." Mary Beth wiped at the woman's salty face.

The rag wasn't by any means fluffy or fresh, but it was the softest thing she felt in a long while. A broken whimper growled low in the back of her throat, sobs trying to climb themselves out.

"There there, can you get that part by yourself or would you like me to. Done this before, I'm a nurse. "

The woman shook her head and left out a depreciative sort of laugh. What sort of nurse has to deal with situations like this? God she must look pathetic, and she felt even worse.

More than the pain bruised on her h.i.p.s, throbbing against her sore womanhood. It was the pain beating inside her c.h.e.s.t that hurt the worse. The weight on her head and shoulders, the burden on her family lighted by her 'work'. A fair trade, they said. It will be worth it, her husband had comforted her with shallow words.

Oh god what has she done?

"I- I can do it. Thank you." she sniffed back, taking the wet towel and shakily getting to work under her thin clothes.

Mary Beth assisted, the women cleaning up body fluids silently. It was tender even. Like the towel rag, touch the softest thing she's felt in a long long time.

Somehow this softness made her want to cry even more.

"Got a name dearie? They call me Mary Beth. Well they actually call me mama bear 'round some parts, but Mary Beth will more than do."

"....Delilah"

"Why, what a lovely name! Say there Delilah, those fellas sure got out of here in a hurry. I didn't even get to finish what I was saying. Now that ain't now way to act around elders. Underneath this darn vine, I'm splitting and twisting- " she pulled out lumps that were more tree roots than anything but boiled long in saltwater and you could pretend you were having a tough yam. More noticeable was the thermos.

Something from the Quan kids, bless their little hearts. The little things were the most useful. This one kept soup from today's shared lunch, communal cooking and eating being the most efficient way to do things.

Once she got Delilah in something more comfortable and properly wrapped up, something the woman did to feel safe, to overcompensate, did Mary Beth pour out the lid.

"Drink slowly. It ain't going anywhere," the old woman encouraged, peeling the still warm root to hand over to the starving woman.

Delilah still choked.

The soup was truly undescribable, and the soft root was practically tasteless, but she wolfed it down. It was slop, trash she would have never even considered eating before, even if someone paid her, but now it was heaven sent.

"I'm sorry" she gasped.

Funny how there was still enough water in her to cry so much.

"There there, eat up. It ain't much but, you need to keep up your strength. "

"I'm so, so sorry." she cried. This little kindness completely overwhelming her.

Mary Beth simply nodded in understanding, patting soothing circles on the poor woman's shoulders.

"You did what you thought you had to do."

It was quiet but for stifled sobs. The rest of the humble meal silent, grateful. Whatever food did come their way since the beginning, mostly all went to her family. The kids were in their growing age and her husband needed it more if he was going to provide for them.

She hasn't had this sort of peace, this much food to herself, since this whole disaster happened. It's the guilt she feels, sipping down the last of the gruel thick soup.

Didn't save any for them.

"You have babies honey?" Mary Beth asked, handing her more water.

"....yes." she admitted, feeling still very much emotional but better. The shaking had settled, her blood sugar slowly rising with something but s.e.m.e.n in her stomach.

"My. What a blessing. How many dear?"

"*sniff* Two. A boy and a girl."

"My that sounds lovely, an even number. How old are they now?"

"9 *sniff* my baby boy is 9."

"And the girl?"

"....11."

"And they with your husband now?"

"...yes."

"Well then! Let's get you cleaned up and deliver them the good news. Where are they, I'm sure your man can get a part of the work."

"...He...he's not...very suited for heavy work."

"Oh? Well, most these days aren't but we all make do. What does he do for a living? Better yet, what did you do?"

"Oh um....it's not...I'm a health inspector, and he works for a bio lab. Technician."

"Well ain't that fancy."

"Um,..no. No not really."

"You must have made a decent living. Together."

"....yeah. ...together."

This was supposed to just be a quick family vacation. Give the kids something over the break, get back to work. Go on with life as they knew it. That's what this was supposed to be.

"How...old did you say your eldest was?"

"....11. My Gloria is 11."

"Oh my, s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e time for any child. Girls especially."

It goes unspoken.

Get out. Get out of there. Get the kids, get the girl out from there.

If a man could sell his own wife, whore her out for a bit of food, a bit more comfort, there's no telling what he'll do next. Now given it was her husband. She knew him better than this kind and strangely observant old woman did.

But it goes understood none the less.

She doesn't want to even think about, wants it to be a line that could never be crossed. there's no way. No f.u.c.k.i.n.g way. They wouldn't, he coudn't.....But she didn't ever think this was a line that existed in the first place. That this could ever happen to her, them.

He was the one who convinced her to sleep with three strange men. Make them happy. All for what?

A bit of food. Some help around. Something they could have provided themselves if they were just a bit more competent out here.

Delilah didn't know what to feel. Shame? Humilation? Aftershocks of too many things, even her own body that still hummed from actually enjoying even a second of that. She wanted to bathe so bad, she just felt so ....wrong.

He told her to do that.

There's really no telling when her daughter will be next, huh?

"When ..when this is all over..." Delilah decided " ...I want a divorce. I can't....i just can't.."

Mary Beth simply nodded, squeezing the woman's hand, and offered her a shoulder to cry on.

The rain still poured on right outside. Washing away the evidence of any and everything it touched, eventually.

--------

----

--

The world still spins.

Round and round it goes. When it stops, only the very end knows.

The playing sound of opera was unexpected though. Sharp strings and sharper resounding voices, echoing as if on crackling speakers a room away. Sophie rouses herself up off the stiff carpeted floor, memory hazy but working.

This obviously was not the f.u.c.k.i.n.g cave.

Last she recalled, if she wasn't delusional at this point, she had passed out by her siblings side. A vending machine from god knows where possessing a lot in her cave, and mostly likely the cause of her pounding headache. Sophie's condition was better now, but both her body and mind felt weaker than usual. Blurry still.

That didn't explain where the f.u.c.k she was and why she was here.

"Three o' clock, number 72. Please come forward." called a mellow and pleasant voice, the receptionist behind the glass.

If Sophie wasn't already on the floor she might have been knocked down by the sudden realization. Calm ambient lighting, shitty waiting room opera, the scent of sterile cleaning production.

No way.

No f.u.c.k.i.n.g way was she already in another dream.

Her skull was still feeling the repercussions from the last one. One she could recall literally just taking place. Possibly caused by an overly large vending machine crashing into the reality that was her life.

Sophie has long accepted that life was a shithole that was never going to make a lick of sense. She threw common sense out the window long before time-traveling reset. Set it on fire and launched the ashes to space at this point really.

But what the god damn f.u.c.k?

She remembers June screaming. She remembers Mattie's concern. She remembers where she should be and where she currently is not.

She knows exactly where she is. Was. Technicalities.

A young lady walks by, a schoolgirl really. White sneakers, colorful backpack, loosely curled long black hair. Another young and refreshing college girl, the kind you could see on any campus. Admired from afar or up close, the kind you try to sit next to because she looks cute. Maybe ask out for a coffee.

A perfectly normal young lady.

Sophie was so young back then. So normal and blissfully ignorant. She could have stayed that way, who knows, she might have even found a normal sense happiness that way.

But here the f.u.c.k she was, in an unimaginable dream, broken as she was.

Okay, she mentally established, trying to get things together. That girl there was definitely her younger self. Thus she's trapped in another one of these horrible flashback dreams.

Sophie would have preferred a break honestly, given that she just exited from one this morning. There's a lot to process there. A lot of causes and effects to figure out in the consequences. But first let's calm down and not go touch murdering things, lest she wastes her chance. Acting impulsively was reckless as it was foolish.

There's a reason why she says f.u.c.k it and lays on the floor, uncomfortable carpet and all.

Time was an illusion anyway.

She doesn't move an inch. Breathe in, breathe out, empty everything in order to even deal with a single thing coming in. She's too tired to hold shit.

Sophie lies there, unaware of the time, only that it passes. Her attempts to sleep apprently failed, given that she was here instead of the dark. Full void. Dreamless sleeps where rest and recuperation was the only thing going on.

When something moves, people walking by, Sophie still doesn't move. She doesn't gamble, she just straight up does not bother.

They walk through her as if she wasn't even there.

Feet brush, a rolling file case smoothly making its way through. As if she were nothing but air. A ghost.

So that's what happens when a memory touches. How interesting, Sophie blearily notes.

Piecing the part together, Sophie makes her theories, gathering the evidence slowly. While she doesn't yet know how or when these dreams occur, there were patterns and rules that were followed each time. At least so far.

One. Only things, the first thing, that she touches with her hands make it back to the waking world.

Two. It's always a place, a time, she's been through before. Another Sophie, a piece of her, who she once was, living out the scene while the present consciousness watches like a casual viewer. Removed from the moment, time itself.

A lot like life.

Now this, Sophie knew how to handle. After the rescue and hospitals, legal battles and complicated drama of paperwork of all things, when she was finally back, life had locked her out.

Or rather, she had locked herself out. Gone somewhere no good sane person ever should. Seen things not even most war veterans have to when facing reality. No, on the contrary, Sophie has seen too much reality.

There wasn't even an outside enemy. No one else was attacking them, threatening their lives. Outside the great force that is nature, the unknown, there was no enemy to band against. Just themselves. The problem inside their ranks, like an infectious cancer discovered late stage, it already inside them all.

That is humanity.

Somehow, in between that time, Sophie had locked herself out of it entirely. The good and the bad.

How does one go back to pretending as if they were never diseased and dying? How does one just....restart life as before? After something so momentous, so eye-opening. They were all sick and dying, some faster than others. How do you go about as if you were still ignorant in this damned world. Playing as if it didn't happen, it didn't exist.

How does life go on?

You don't. You can't. People don't just do that if they had any brain cells left in their sick heads.

Not unless you sell your soul.

Sophie could have played along. She just....didn't care to. Nothing mattered. Not after the island. Not anymore.

It's that disease that took out survivors even after they made. The disease of the mind, the soul, and then the world telling them to play nice like it wasn't everywhere. Only the worse of them adapted. Only Sophie remained.

Leon f.u.c.k.i.n.g killed himself.

Sophie lays there, registering that yes this is her old college campus. The health center to be exact. She finds it almost funny how she could walk right in to see a therapist. As a ghost of course.

They didn't tell her anything she didn't already know, but something about those docs- gave you perspective, permission.

Sophie doesn't think she ever grieved Leon's death properly. It was sad, pathetic even. But almost....expected. Inevitable.

F.u.c.ker made it out alive. His very worst nightmare.

The worst fate is not those who leave before their time. That falls to those left behind. The ones carrying everything. And they had all carried too much, even for a full life time.

Sophie doesn't know how long she stays on the ground, but apparently ghosts could very well still get carpet marks.

She gets up to stretch, spying a nearby couch. Good enough. Even more isolated in this corner of the waiting room. Plopping down like a starfish, she intends to catch something resembling sleep.

Only to have the world fall beneath her.

It's like inception. Being asleep in a dream, waking up layer after unknown layer. It's disorienting.

The only real thing she can make out, is June's very loud screeching.

"Ooookay! What. The. F.u.c.k?! What? I'm- I'm not even done with the vending machine thing?!"

"Well...you wanted to know how it got there." Mattie shrugged.

"Just what?!? You saw that right?! You saw that?! How?!"

Ah, insomnia and migraines. Sophie and they are old friends alright.

Groaning, she gropes around at her surrounding. The smell of instant coffee lingering around the cave. Without opening her eyes, she makes grabbing hands in the direction of Mattie's voice, indicating for him to hand it over.

"I brought a f.u.c.k.i.n.g couch with me this time didn't I?" she sighed, feeling full well the firm but soft furniture underneath her.

"It just poof! Or whoosh!? How?! It wasn't there and then it's just, how?!!?"

"June."

"Oh. Sorry. Shutting up now. I don't need an explanation or anything. I was never good at physics or anything."

"June you didn't even take the class" Mattie pointed out, brewing another cup of powdered coffee.

"Exactly my point. Suuuure, we got magic things coming magically and Sophie's just-"

"Everyone shut up or I destroy this couch" Sophie raised her voice, just an increment. That was more than warning enough.

In some perspective, Sophie could admit her head didn't hurt as bad as earlier with the vending machine. But the effects seemed to have stacked, leaving still with a classic migraine and just as tired.

Obviously June's snakebite was being postponed. How annoying, but it couldn't be helped. Sophie would rather not anything. Think. Act. You name it. Today she was just going to be Mattie.

"I ...just have one more question".

June tried cozying up, fluffing up pillows, and acting as Sophie's immediate servent. Serving coffee stolen right out of Mattie's hands, ignoring his eye roll. Pfft as if he didn't have the same question.

Sophie took a long breath.

"What?"

"...How do we open the vending machine?"

"...."

"...."

"...."

Needless to say, it was a quiet cozy day for this family, on the unspoken threat of a fate worse than death. Even for the cat.

But these issues are for another day.

It was finally time to rest.