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The Bosky Invasion (Completed)

Jean Evans is just an ordinary working girl. Or so she strives to be. As a criminal in hiding, she has to keep her head down and be prepared to go on the run at any moment. When the neighbouring nation invades her city, suddenly her dreams of an ordinary, relatively unnoticed life goes awry. She doesn't want to be noticed, but someone has. And now that she's been noticed, she has become bait, a tool used by both sides of the war in an effort to control the man she once thought could be a dream boyfriend. The man who had turned into an enemy in the midst of her daydream. Can Jean rise to the occasion and show the strength of her abilities or will she be crushed when events set her back over and over again? How many times can a girl be crushed before she gives up? --- Author's note: This story is relatively depressing and many of the themes are for more mature audiences. I wouldn't call it a romance story. More a slippery slope of distasteful greys sliding into darkness. This is a work of fiction based upon a dream. No characters, settings or events are based on any real life people, environments or events. In the event anything resembles something in real life, it is an accident.

Tonukurio · Urban
Not enough ratings
137 Chs

Forty-seven: Awe

On the long trek home, in order to break up the monotony, I helped a tottering old lady across the street, although lifting her trolley back up onto the curb nearly made me cry again. Luckily for me, she didn't notice. I hung someone's clothes that had fallen off their line back up for them again and also helped a lost little boy find his mother again.

There was a stretch of restaurants and shops. The smell of food made my tummy growl. When was the last time I had eaten? They hadn't given me any food in the hospital besides water.

At an ATM, I withdrew a twenty note, only for a passing thief to snatch it out of my hand and run off, before I could put it in my pocket. Too sore to chase after him, I could only watch with slumped shoulders when he turned around and stuck his tongue out at me. I hoped Kiran would beat him up good if he was still following me, but then thought the better of that thought. I didn't want Kiran following me. The thief was probably desperate for money himself.

Gritting my teeth, I withdrew another twenty note and bought a bag of raisin buns. That should last me a few meals. Outside the bakery, a homeless older woman stared at the bag of bread, unable to quite keep herself from drooling. Her eyes followed the bag whichever way it swayed while she sat with a woollen hat out, hoping for stray coins.

Oh, what the heck.

I placed the bag into her skinny hands with a small smile. The awe with which she beheld the bread was so great that words failed her.

"It's okay," I said. "I understand."

Then I hurried away, not wanting to see her eat my bread. Since the Invasion, the price of food had risen dramatically and I could little afford to lose the money or let it go to waste. Yet doing a good deed made me feel better about myself and my predicament. At another bakery, I bought a cheap loaf of plain bread and stared for a long time at the cheese in the window of a delicatessen. Much as I wanted it, I couldn't afford it. Plain bread was sweet and tasty too, when you're hungry, and I pinched a corner of my loaf off to munch in order to keep myself occupied. It wasn't worth thinking too much about. The rest of my coins were going to be needed to do my laundry. Some time soon, I would buy new clothes to replace the ones I had lost. I stared at a shirt in a shop window for too long and the shop assistant inside gave me dirty looks before I could make myself move on.

By the time I got to the Compound, my feet were sore and I was suddenly so tired that I had to grab hold of the wall to keep myself from falling. One step at a time, I somehow managed to keep plodding along until I reached the toilet block of solitary rooms. The dour lady from two doors down stared at me, but gave no sign of acknowledgement or indication that she could see me. It was more like she was looking past me, but there was nobody there. At least nobody that I could see when I turned to look.

In my room, I found that someone had cleaned it up for me. It smelt of cleaning fluids. To my surprise, there was also a shower curtain, a new mattress with new sheets, a bathmat and a new shirt, along with a tiny vase with a few flowers. There was no note of apology, but this would do.

In a corner, was a hot meal, still steaming, as well as a twenty note. I laughed and cried at the same time, holding my tummy for the pain.

This made my day.

There was a merciful God in heaven.

After eating, I flopped on my new mattress, enjoying the fact that there were no lumps in it. The new sheets smelt wonderful and I forgot about getting changed. Instead, I slept through all the curfew bells and chimes and woke up in the middle of the next day. I ate most of my loaf of bread, had a shower, wiped the place dry and took my things to the laundromat. No hurry. Slow and steady.

Since I had time, I wrote a letter to my parents, had it stamped at the censor office and then left it at the post office to be somehow sent across the border to my parents. Hopefully the letter saying I was fine and that all was well would keep my family from getting worried.

I took a walk. Enjoyed the sun. Lazed around. Thought of nothing. A perfect day.

In the evening, when I was about to fetch money from my room to buy dinner, I found a present. Another hot meal from my mystery person. I didn't really know or care who had left it for me. The mere thought that someone was thinking of me was enough. And well, if they were trying to poison me, at least I'd die with a full stomach.

Whoever it was, thank you.

After a few more days, the pain and bruises eased enough that I could bear with it and move more freely. I went back to work. Everything went back to normal. My free evening meals stopped after that. Pity, but it was better this way.

Although I knew I was still being watched, I didn't see any of my tails. Unlike before, I barely felt their eyes on me. In fact, I could pretend I was almost a normal citizen again.

Every few days, more and more of my work colleagues left the Compound. More and more of them resigned from work, choosing to get out of the city while they could, since news of increasing unrest at the border cutting through the city was beginning to worry us all. Eventually, I was the only one still living in the Compound. Priscilla had moved out.