A Guide to Surviving Against Monsters

"And back to the real world we are..."

My words hit the empty air of my apartment. I was laying on my living room floor, apparently having missed the couch when I tried laying down. Rain still pounded down on the windows, the storm just as strong as before. To my surprise, I had even left the door unlocked. After tidying up and drying the wet spot on the floor left by my soaked clothes, I stripped down and started a load of laundry. Showering, getting re-dressed and curling up with a cup of coffee took less than half an hour, and I found myself staring at the world around me, trying to make sure it was in colour.

I half expected a vessel of a memory to whisper to me over my shoulder, but the silence remained unbroken.

Bile rose in my throat. For some reason, I couldn't stand the silence any longer.

Hence why I grabbed my chokuto, a poncho, and some black clothing. I fixed the pancho around my shoulders and head, not too worried about getting my legs or feet wet. I locked my door as I left, grabbing my keys. I didn't like driving, half because people drove badly, half because I could run faster if need be. However, I didn't need another soaked outfit.

Where was I headed?

Not even I knew, not really. But my hands turned the wheel in their own direction, and I found myself idling outside Wendy's house. It was provided by the government since she was a fairly important hunter that was trained as a healer. She was signed on a federal contract whereas I had packed up my life years ago and gone away to freelance.

Sitting outside her house made me realize I might stand a federal contract if I could get benefits like she did.

Rain pattered down on my poncho as I approached her house. Traps were set outside for any unwelcome monsters, but there were directions to her front door for humans to use. Since most monsters couldn't understand English, it was a pretty handy way to avoid lawsuits with dumbass delivery men who ignored the signs and got hurt because of it.

The chokuto hung loosely from my left hand as I followed the safe path to her front door. I knocked, half expecting her to ignore it.

But no, this was Wendy. She appeared at the door seconds after I knocked, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. Her orange hair was half up, half down, the 'up' part separated in two small buns. She was unarmed, but I could see an underlying fluidity in her movements that marked her as a huntress.

"Emmalyn? Is there an emergency hunt?"

Her eyes trailed to my chokuto.

I shook my head. "No."

"Then... Why are you here?"

I don't know.

"I..."

Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, ruffling the choppy strands. "I don't even know. Sorry for bothering you."

I nearly turned to go before she grabbed my hand.

"Why don't you come in, Emmalyn? We haven't spent quality time together in a while."

We never did, I thought. Quality time wasn't something I ever thought about, hell, I didn't know what to do to bond with people unless it was through mutual protection or teamwork. Spending my downtime doing 'fun' things wasn't something I knew how to do.

Yet, Wendy seemed to know. She seemed to sense that I was lonely, even if it was only because I felt off after the excitement of the past week. I followed my only almost-friend into her house, kicking off my shoes and hanging up my poncho. It wasn't until Wendy glanced down that I realized I had a tight grip on my chokuto and gently set it down out of the way.

After shedding my wet garments, I trailed behind Wendy, the redhead entering her spacious kitchen. Apparently she had a hobby in baking; three platters of fresh cookies were sitting on the counter. Wendy ran a hand through her hair sheepishly, looking from the cookies to me.

"They're for the day of Nicolai. My parents and sister are visiting."

I nodded. "Tuesday, right?"

She dipped her head. "Damn right. Are you celebrating with anyone?"

With a shrug of my shoulders, I leaned against her counter. Icing packets were set out, not yet opened.

"I've got no family to celebrate it with," I sighed, "and I've been freelancing for years. Got no consistent friends."

There was a sad, desolate silence that fell, and I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

"Hey, Emmalyn?"

I met Wendy's gentle eyes. "Yeah?"

"I can't invite you over for dinner since I'm already booked," she snorted, "but, if you wanted to, we could get coffee or something on the day of Nicolai. As a small celebration, of course."

I opened my mouth to say no, stopping short.

Why am I always saying no?

Forcing a smile, I felt my shoulders relax.

"It sounds nice. Thank you, Wendy."

We both know that there was more to that thank you than explicitly said, but she didn't mention it. The huntress waved me off before motioning to the cookies.

"Care to lend me a hand decorating?"

"I'm not very artsy."

"Just don't light them on fire and we're good."

I laughed. "Alright. I think I can handle that."

It was a half an hour, three platters of cookies and a bunch of icing later when Wendy turned to me, offering a cup of tea that she must've made while I was decorating. We went to her living room, sitting on the sofa. An awkward silence fell before Wendy cleared her throat, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Emmalyn... It's okay for you to be upset, you know."

Something nearly broke inside hearing those words. My confidence wavered, and for once I wondered if this job was too much for me even with all my power.

Buck up, Emmalyn Foxit, I ordered myself. This is the life you built. Deal with it.

"I'm not upset," I sighed, "maybe just a bit nostalgic over the day of Nicolai."

"Whatever you say," Wendy said, her tone disapproving. "It's also okay for you to have friends, you know. And to be nice."

I shrugged. "Maybe I'll make some now that I'm settled somewhere for a longer period of time. It's not my priority, though."

My old friend shook her head with a rueful smile.

I mirrored it.

"Am I wrong, Wendy?"

"No, you're hardly ever wrong," she laughed, "you're just unique, Emmy."

I felt my nerves ease up hearing her call me by my nickname.

"Thanks, Wendy."

...For more than I can say.

"Anytime."

And she knows it.