This morning I woke up and there was another pack of crackers lying on the ground next to me. I would have thought it nothing more than an incredible stroke of luck or some intervention by the Storytellers if it hadn’t been resting on top of a note that read, “You are being watched. F.T.”
I ate my crackers with a knot in my stomach. I’m guessing this F.T. person… I hope it’s a person… thought they were doing me a favor by giving me a heads up on being watched, but frankly, I’d rather not know. What good does it do me? I don’t have any weapons. I’m weak from hunger. I’m pretty sure my insides are frozen solid. Worrying about being watched is just one more layer of crap I’ve got to deal with.
And what’s with this F.T.? Why don’t they just show themselves? It’s creepy and rude to sneak up on me at night, even if you’re leaving me food. So, help me God… if I catch up to this F.T. and they’ve got something better to eat than stale, frozen crackers, I’m going to punch them in the face. I guess I should be thankful, but screw that.
I’m laughing at my lack of gratitude. It’s really all I have the strength to do right now. This F.T. probably expects a big hug and kiss from me if we were ever to meet, but instead he’ll get a good dressing down from a bratty little made-up girl for failing to recognize that I needed a good sight more than crackers and a warning.
I need someone to end my misery.
Is it bad for me to talk like that? I don’t think so because no one is around to care… except for F.T., and they only care enough to spare some barely edible crackers.
I hear something. And this time I know it’s not the wind. It’s a grunt… almost a growl. I want to shut my eyes and pretend none of this real. I just want it all to go away… The growl again. It sounds big.
It’s a funny thing about being scared. I’ve completely forgotten about being cold and hungry. I don’t know who F.T. is, but they were right. I am being watched.