metamorphosis- daryl dixon

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

Mariam sprinted through the dark forest, her feet crunching against twigs and leaves in the process.

Her heart raced as she mindlessly ran from those things. The faint smell of decaying corpses lingered in the night air.
The only light source Mariam had was the moon— which, to her dismay, was currently covered by the treetops of the dense forest. She desperately looked around while running for anywhere to hide or rest for even a second.
Then, she spotted it, a hollowed out tree laying on the ground.
It appeared to be tight, but Mariam figured she would be able fit snugly with enough persistence. She stumbled towards the dead tree, panting softly. The groans of those horrible monsters could be heard not too far away.

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A few hours prior:

A week. It had been a week since that phone call with Cara. The next morning, their campus had issued a notice to all the students stating that classes would be dismissed until the flu died down and things were more under control. Most students at the college went home to be with their families, including Mariam.

So now, here she was, sitting in her car at midnight on a crowded road, with little to no hope that she would make it back home before sunrise. These people were headed to the refugee center in Atlanta promised to them through the emergency broadcasts blaring on every car's radio— upon hearing the reoccurring rumor that they were beginning to turn people away, Mariam and her father figured it would be best for her to just head home instead of her wandering the streets of the city at night.
Almost every car was parked, their headlights illuminating the grey asphalt. Their owners littered the road with their presence and chatted with one another, providing a faint sense of security to everyone. Although tension and confusion lingered in the air, there was still normality. Humanity.

Mariam held her pink flip phone to her ear, listening intently to her father.

"Sweetheart, are things still bad on your end?" The familiar man questioned, his voice providing Mariam with hope and comfort.

"Yup." She answered with a sigh. The door of her small, blue coupe was open. She didn't bother keeping her car on, knowing she would need the gas to make the rest of the journey home to her father.

"Keep your gun close, habibi." Her father added, his worry for his daughter's safety evident in his tone.
"I will, Baba." She responded mindlessly, focused on her surroundings.

A brunette white woman and her young son chatted with a grey-haired mother and her young daughter just a few feet away from Mariam's car.
The two children looked to be around the same age. Their mothers talked in a hushed tone, their brows creased with worry.
The boy and girl, however, were playing carelessly. The little girl's father watched with a scowl on his face, a lit cigarette sticking out the corner of his mouth.

Mariam rummaged through her purple duffel bag sitting next to her in the passenger's seat.

It was the same duffel bag she had taken to so many of Cara's sleepovers they had as teens. Their routine was always the same— gossip, watch a romcom (and gossip during the romcom), paint each other's nails, browse the internet together with wet nails, and then go to bed. They had the same cliche sleepovers as every teen girl in every teen drama, but nonetheless, they each felt unique to the two girls. She smiled fondly at the comforting memories of her best friend.

Cara had driven up to her family's house in Virginia a week before Mariam had even begun packing to leave their campus. She could only hope she made it there without any trouble. For the past few days, reaching Cara's cell had been oddly difficult.
She was her everything— her best friend, her soulmate, and her sister.
Mariam simply couldn't fathom living in a world without Cara.