High End

For All The Hopes

She'd always been angry person. Everyone knows it, and it's in the summary.

When she was a child she realized dreams were never really a goal, but something to tie with as a grounding point for the passage of time and conclusions. Children doesn't have to dream, not really, they just fantasized. So she was angry at time for that, and she was angry for the constant change it would be.

So Change, it's a great thing- too important yet too much so people ignore it as much as they can. That crowd included her, because she never liked it to begin with.

She was angry, she was temperamental. She is, and always will be.

That's why she accepted change as easily as it comes and go— like a neverending stream that's too empty to take note of- it was mostly because of spite, actually, since she's learned to take things easily when she was 12 years old. Even if she is told that she shouldn't.

She accepts things as they go, never batting an eye unless it was interesting enough to notice, she accepts being the one who's always overshadowed (because that's a normal thing in most people's lives, it's not a taboo to be overlooked, it's just the norm for the average person), and she accepts the things life throws at her no matter how hard they hit.

People say that she was mature for acting strong and unfazed by trauma, and she thinks that they're just idiots for not letting a child grieve.

She is accepting, like most people should be at least, and like any other depressed person she doesn't accept herself.

And it's ironic, since if the world would make an exact copy of her except for the appearance, she'd accept them as they were like they were supposed to.

But that's how things worked, so she wallows in her own disparity in her free time. Most depressed folks do that. Probably, at least.

She isn't the eldest of her siblings, Acer is actually the fourth of the five other spawns of her mother, but that's not the point for surface pressure when you're a girl.

Oh yeah, being a girl also doesn't matter if your birth was the start of the family being torn apart like the most fragile of fabrics; the seams torn away easily by tension and mistakes. Not that held any importance at the moment, but maybe for development later on.

Let's get this over with already.

Acer Valleys spat, she is 16 years old and has long black hair with an almost oval face, her eyes almond shaped (at least that's what she thinks, she's not really sure but at the same time she doesn't care). She is wearing plain clothing and the nicest about her attire was probably the hoodie that she wore and the all-star shoes on her feet, but whatever.

Everything was dirty and there's blood on the floor, but luckily no one died (yet). Two teachers were consoling their sobbing class advisor, she can hear them from her left, the others didn't really looked any better.

Right now there were at least two classes merged together with only four adults with them, so about 84 people in the gymnasium including the teachers. The other one was in the verge of a mental breakdown near the three.

No one said anything and you could hear a pin drop from the silence. They were all dirty and bloodied, but no one was hurt and got pushed into the fire that was raging outside the building.

She doesn't know how long they'll last since she doesn't really have faith in the doors holding the undead outside, but the others knew they had to move, too.

But she knows those faces of her classmates and the others' well enough, it's a miracle they even survived that wave when it came.

They're all tired and the adrenaline of the escape had already worn down. Other students were already panicking and crying.

Limuell scooted closer to her from his spot, his frail body shivering and there's a frantic but distant look on his face. Acer frowned and ran her hand up and down her friend's back in silent solace.

Her other friend, Trisha, wasn't doing any better (none of them were) as she laid on her back on the cold dirty floor, apparently not caring about her pretty dress since it didn't matter anymore as she laid her head on Acer's thigh.

She wipes away the tears falling from her eyes.

Her circle of friends wasn't much, probably seven or five people since she doesn't like talking to the other students in her one year of staying with them. It was probably because most of them were assholes.

Some of them were cool, though.

She and Michael was sat back to back, and Acer doesn't need to look to see the bigger guy's face to know what she needed to know.

Was he fine? No. Was Limuell and Trisha fine? No. Was any of them fine? Absolutely not.

It was loud outside, but less when they were all still scrambling to their feet and running to safety. At least those things finally gave up on trying to bring down the door that separated them. For now.

Acer exhaled, her breath hitching and she forcefully blinked away the sting building in her eyes. She was still panicking in the inside, still frenzied and felt like she had been caught in a rope ridden with thorns. Like all of them were.

She focused on the other noises just so she could stop hearing the other's sobbing and crying just as soon they noticed that the threat went away.

All of them watched a zombie apocalypse movie at some point, so they tried their damnedest to muffle their breakdowns because maybe— like in the Walking Dead or something— the undead were triggered by sound. So they stayed quiet enough.

Acer had always wanted to know why that was, by the undead being more active as soon as sound comes in their radar and running for it when their ears are all rotten and the only things that they're still capable of moving were their limbs, jaws, eyes, and voice box.

She strained her ears, dutifully looking out for any weird or alarming sound that might come for anywhere and ones that is noteworthy of.

But they needed to go soon, too, they can't exactly stay here when the survival rate of the doors were 30%. And they needed supplies, some of them (her included) were lucky enough to grab their bags in the panic so they had somewhere to put things. Books and other school supplies are worthless now except scissors.

Everyone were on their phones.

She had turned off her's long ago, but the other's were still trying to call their relatives and some checking for nearby rescuers that might come. If they even could.

Acer's messages hadn't been replied but she could tell that some were already replying to their kids judging by the relieved and crying faces that they had.

She was worried sick (of course she was), but she knew that her mom would be busy in their side, too. She doesn't know if there had been a wave there yet albeit that the woman might be packing supplies or something.

Her family was lucky enough to be near the mountains. They can go there. The men knew enough how to make traps and fend off the things until help came.

There are steep hills the undead cannot climb. She hopes that her village had enough time.

• • •

It's been hours already. Everything seemed quiet enough for some to calm down.

They can still hear them outside but not as many as before, their dreaded groans and wet gurgles as blood clots their throat a clear thing amidst all the dragging they do. Some hung around the entrances but still, they don't seem to care enough.

Acer surveyed the surroundings outside the gymnasium visible from the windows on the highest steps. There wasn't anything much but that didn't lessen her anxiousness.