Mom named me Twinkie because she wanted me to stay fresh and sweet for a thousand years. But I know that I really survive in this wasted city because of Oscar. Like his namesake, I keep him sharp and he's clever and quick in my hand and with his help I find people to talk to. They don't talk back but they're still company until they start to stink. The best part of those relationships is that I can tell them all my secrets and they keep their mouths shut. The worst part of those relationships is dragging them up to the open air to burn them once their stink keeps me awake because I'll be double-buggered if I'll drag them all the way down to the forest to bury them there.
Boys are easier to trap or hunt than girls. I think it's because us girls are always alert to predators and because we're smaller and not as strong we have to be like little grey foxes when we move through the waste and feral little demons if we're cornered.
Boys are stupid, and come in two breeds – well, three if you count the ones who only like other boys. Most boys want to rape you or fill you with babies or both, and no way I want either of those to happen to this body. So I trap them or hunt them and take them quick so they don't bleed too much.
It's nice to take them just before the night shadows creep up out of the tunnels because their bodies are still warm when you cuddle with them. I love the smell and feel of a boy's skin against mine when I'm safe with them in my bolt hole, I always sleep best that first night. And don't think I'm a creeper; I don't eat them like some do, but I do take everything they've foraged and find some flavourful things in their backpacks and sling bags.
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