The Days Are Tired (Book #1 of the Dark Skies series) - A Zombie story

Chapter 17:Trigger

My trance was broken when long thin arms surrounded me, pulling me haphazardly towards the stairs. I stumbled slightly, turning my head only to be met with cold dark eyes. Will.

He continued to pull me along, as my legs seemed to forget their purpose. My fear rooted itself into every cell and nerve in my body. I was walking like a newborn deer, legs wobbling and shaking. Will let me go with a sigh and began to walk up the stairs alone.

While I was still trying to figure out how to walk again Will grew more impatient. He stopped mid-stride turning towards me. "Are you just gonna stand there and look stupid? Move it."

His words were strong and agitated, just the tone I needed to kickstart my body into action. I started to move my legs. Now fully able to walk on my own. But the cloud of fear still hadn't fully disappeared yet.

Only then did I realize everyone else was gone. They had left us in their haste to get away from the monsters. I couldn't blame them. But Will had stayed behind to help me, albeit begrudgingly.

We walked up the stairs in thick silence. I now hated silence with every fiber of my being. It's funny because I used to hate loudness and constant noise before all this. Mark was the type of person who couldn't stop talking. He said the quiet allowed his thoughts to roam free, something he didn't like. I used to threaten him, telling him I would tape his mouth closed if he wouldn't shut up.

A wave of sadness overtook me, blocking out my fear. I was talking about Mark in the past tense. He was no longer here. Mark was dea-.

"Hey? Why are you looking like that." Will was three steps above, studying me with a look I couldn't decipher. It wasn't concern but it also wasn't indifference. 

I shook my head not able to answer him.

"Yeah... I don't speak silence. Either you tell me what's wrong and I'll see if I can help you, or you move your little butt up these steps before I leave you. Your choice." Will crossed his arms as my silence continued. The corner of his eyes tightened as he squinted. It was like he was trying to figure me out.

Speak Bri. Say anything.

I try to coax myself into talking but I can't. I can't voice words to what is wrong with me. I need help. But I don't know what for. Can he even help me? I look up into his eyes and then quickly look away. Why is he being so mean?

If I'm that big of a problem then he should just leave me. I mean everyone else did. 

But the thought of being alone on these stairs makes me want to shiver. I clear my throat, trying to lodge whatever is preventing me from speaking. "I'm buffering."

"You're what?" A confused look passes his face. I bet he thought I had lost it and was now cracking up because he took two subconscious steps away from me. 

"I said I'm buffering... you know I'm just trying to process everything that's happening. But it's all too much." I said all this in a gush of air and wondered if he even understood what I meant.

I felt like the walls were caving in and the world had just stopped spinning. Dramatic, I know, but what's more dramatic than people eating people?

"What are you doing?" Will asked, if possible he seemed even more puzzled. 

I lifted my eyebrow giving Will a look meant to convey that I had no idea what he was talking about. And honestly, I didn't care. I just wanted to find a cold dark corner to crawl and huddle into. Cue the dramatics. 

He looked down and my eyes followed his gaze. And only then did I realize I was popping my knuckles. I quickly stopped. "Sorry, it's a nervous habit..." As the words left me, I lost the reign I had on my emotions.

As tears start falling a low cry escapes as it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I sounded like a wounded animal. If it was any normal day, I would've been embarrassed. But It wasn't any normal day.

 My head pounds at the memories of Mark holding my hand to stop me from popping my knuckles. His knowing glances as he could tell something was wrong with me, even from the way I tilted my head and set my shoulders.

I cried for the loss of my family, for the loss of my friend, and most importantly I cried for the loss of myself. Of the person, I once knew. And then I blacked out. 

Dramatic? I know, but why stop when I'm on a roll?