Fatal Infatuation [18+]

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(Evelyn's POV)

I woke up to the loud sound of birds chirping. My eyes shot open and I let out a terrified gasp at the noise. My heart was beating out of my chest, but my breathing stabilized when I realized that I was -mostly- safe. I groaned and stood up, dusting myself off. 

My stomach grumbled so loud that it scared the birds. My eyebrows furrowed and I rubbed my stomach, looking at my surroundings. I had to eat something, I felt myself getting weaker and weaker with every growing second. I picked my feet up and walked over to a bush where little red berries were growing. 

I crouched in front of the bush and took a handful of berries, eyeing them suspiciously. "I hope you're not poisoned." I murmured before stuffing the berries in my mouth. As I chewed them, the skin broke and I could feel the juice coating my mouth. I almost immediately spat them out after that, wiping my tongue with my shirt. They were salty, sour, and they tasted like earth. I grimaced and threw the remainder of the berries onto the ground. 

'Great.' I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. I stood in place for a while, trying to come up with another solution to my hunger problem. The birds were chirping again, and I couldn't hear myself think. 

"Shut up!" I yelled, picking up a stick from the ground and chucking it at the birds. They all flew away, their wings flapping in the wind. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. I wasn't proud of it, but it had been three days since I'd eaten anything. 

At home, I wouldn't have even thought about killing an animal. But, of course, at home, I had the luxury of store-bought food and kitchens. I tore a strip from the bottom of my shirt and used it to tie my hair into a ponytail. I searched the ground for materials to use to make the net, and it wasn't looking hopeful. I could use grass, but it would snap immediately. I noticed that growing amongst the grass, was a patch of hemp. My eyes widened and I immediately began plucking the hemp. 

It was a thick, grainy, fibrous texture, and it could withstand a lot. I pant with anticipation and place all the objects next to me as I begin to work. Two stones, one larger and one smaller, a few sticks, varying in length and thickness, and the hemp that I had picked earlier. I picked up the first hemp leaf and began tearing it into thin slivers carefully. My fingers twitched with impatience and anxiety, but I got it done. Soon enough, there was a pile of slivers next to me. I picked up the rocks and placed the smaller one on my thigh, holding the larger one in my fist. 

With a pained grunt, I smacked the edge of the smaller stone with the larger one. I could feel the force on my leg, and the sharp corners of the rock slicing through the thin layer of my skin as the edge got sharper and sharper from the continuous smacks. I grit my teeth and ignore the pain, hitting the rock over and over. Blades of stone began chipping from the rock, and I picked one of the larger ones up with shaking hands. My thigh was covered in small cuts, but it didn't matter in that moment. I just needed to get food. 

I set the rock-knife down and began weaving the slivers of hemp leaf into a net. I focused so intently on weaving it that I didn't notice the sky turning dark, and the moon appearing before me. 

"How long has it been?" I asked out loud, setting the almost-finished net down and looking at the sky. It looked quite beautiful in the night, with hundreds of stars and the shining moon. I would appreciate it if I wasn't on the run from a deranged lunatic, wounded, thirsty, and practically starving. 

The birds were starting to disappear, and my fingers began weaving quicker until I eventually made a somewhat decent looking net. I tied the loose ends of the net around a long twig, and decided to use that as leverage. I couldn't see in the dead of night, so I could only use the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees to detect where the birds were. I stood up carefully and walked towards one of the trees, my movements slow and steady as to not suddenly alert them of my presence. I felt awful about what I was going to do, but it was either me or the birds, and I wasn't going to allow myself to die tonight. 

I stood on my tip-toes and angled the net towards one of the branches, bringing it down in a quick movement. The rest of the birds flew away, but I could tell I caught one because the net began shaking uncontrollably. I pulled the branch back down to the ground and carefully walked towards the net. Inside was a small little red crossbill, its eyes black and beady, and its chest pumping rhythmically as it laid entangled within the net. 

I slowly freed the bird from the net and held it in my hand. It stood there, blinking, looking at me as if it knew it was going to die. I frowned and placed the bird against the ground, using my hand to keep it down and using my other hand to pick up the rock-knife. I was going to give it a quick, painless death. I turned my head and raised the knife above the birds chest, clenching my eyelids shut as I brought it down. A thumping, squelching noise was heard, and the bird's chest stopped pumping. I looked at it and exhaled, shaking my head as I began to gain back some courage. I pulled the knife out of it and began making an incision down its stomach. 

I grimaced in disgust as I began peeling the skin off of it. I felt vomit rise in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down. I couldn't afford to lose anymore food. Once the bird was completely skinned, I was left with a disgusting looking hunk of meat. I used the knife to cut into it, removing the rest of the bones and organs. At that point, it was all muscle and flesh. I cut off a piece of the meat and took a deep breath, shutting my eyes as I popped it into my mouth. Without giving it a second thought, I began chewing. The metallic, meaty taste, and the grainy, tough texture, was almost overwhelming. 

I continued chewing for what seemed like an eternity, and began eating the rest of the meat. After an unpleasing, disgusting meal, I finally felt full. I gained my energy back, and picked up the knife and net and began walking again.

"I can't see anything." I grumbled to myself, walking through the dark woods. I fully convinced myself that if I talked to myself, I wouldn't go crazy. After that, ensued a full-on conversation with myself. Complaints about the situation, complaints about the woods, complaints about the taste of the bird. 

I was so preoccupied with talking that I didn't notice that I was walking off of a ledge. I tumbled over and began rolling down the hill, yelping loudly. I dropped the knife and the net, and I could feel my body being attacked by every resource possible. Glass, stones, wood cutting through me. My head banged against the hard dirt with every roll and tumble, and my body began colliding with the trees. After a while, my roll reached a halt, and I made it onto flat land. I groaned in pain and clutched my head as I laid down in fetal position, but it wasn't my head that was bothering me. There was a large gash across my thigh, blood pouring down my leg. I grunted and gripped my thigh, assessing the damage. I had no idea what could've done it, but it was deep, and it was large, and it hurt like hell. 

I sat up slowly and cried out, holding my thigh to keep the wound closed. I used my other hand to pull the fabric out of my hair and tied it around my thigh tightly, to keep the blood from pouring any further. The blood began oozing through the fabric, and I felt myself grow more and more delirious. I slowly laid back down, my jaw agape as I took slow, shallow breaths. I felt the darkness consume me a few minutes after.