w a r i n s i d e

“ My father taught me ” She explained, partly proud partly saddened. Talking about her father was still weird. She was just getting used to the idea that he would never show up in Fall City. “ I helped on the radio back in high school — you know that weird kid who plays music around in the halls? That was me. When everything started, I learnt a lot more but the thing is that I know how to find them if they’re using radios. ” Ivy was walking in front of Trix. She shrugged and gave a gentle smile. “ Have any name of the dissapeared? Are we sure of who are they? ”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Trix’s harsh features as she remembered what she was like at high school. She’d been smart - the top of her classes - but she’d also gotten bored easily. People had learnt not to mess with her family name and her and her siblings had taken that into the school. “Sweetheart, I bullied those weird kids when I were in school.” Trix knew radios better than she was letting on. She could build one from scratch, but once it was made she wasn’t so good at using one. She preferred her technology to have a screen. “Yes. I got a list,” she replied tightly, all emotion devoid of her tones as she rummaged inside her jacket pocket and tried not to think too much about whose names were on that list.

“ Thank you so much, Trix! ” Ivy lead the way with firm steps. “ Are you good with radios? ”

Trix gave a huff to the kid’s thanks and over excited steps, already partly regretting landing herself with someone wielding such an upbeat attitude. “I know the basics, hon - how they work. You learn how to use them at school or somethin’?”

A deep crimson began spreading across porcelain cheeks when the woman she’d been watching called her out on being in the way. “Uh- I’m sorry. I was just impressed at how well you were handling the gun, is all,” Hannah said before moving away from the light and sinking down to the floor not too far away, a hand absentmindedly brushing across her ribs where the bullet wound was still healing.

“If you can’t clean a gun you shouldn’t use one,” Trix replied bluntly, effectively swiping the teen’s complimentary comment aside. Her words echoed those of her father’s and instead of feeling reminiscent she found found herself with a bitter taste on her tongue. Trix cast her gaze back up to the girl, arching a critical brow. “You goin’ to keep standin’ there or you goin’ to help?”