In a world where death lurks around every corner, Star and Carl find themselves bound by survival and a shared hope. Amid constant threats from both the dead and the living, an unexpected connection begins to grow between them. When everything seems...
I woke up to the sound of hurried footsteps outside the tent. The camp was already buzzing with activity. The fresh morning air mixed with the distant sounds of conversations and tools being used to keep what little we had running. I sat up on my air mattress, still feeling the aches from the trip the day before. The exhaustion was constant now, like a shadow that wouldn't let me be.
"Star, can you help me with this?" I heard my mom's voice outside. She was trying to set something up near the trailer.
"I'll be right there!" I called back, but before I could get up, my dad's loud voice sliced through the air like a knife.
"STAR!" He stormed into the tent with heavy steps, his face red and already boiling with anger before I even understood what was happening.
My stomach turned. He had been blaming me for everything lately, and even though I was used to it by now, the fear still hit me like a punch in the gut.
"I told you to put my stuff away yesterday! Where's the machete?" He was just inches from me, his anger spilling out in every word.
I swallowed hard, trying to remember where I had put the machete the night before. My hands trembled a bit as I tried to think clearly.
"I... left it near the backpack, Dad," I replied, trying to sound firm, but my voice came out shaky.
"Near the backpack?! Are you kidding me? Someone could've taken it, Star! Do you want to get us killed?" He shoved me hard against the wall of the tent, and the impact made me feel small and helpless.
I held back tears, knowing that crying would only make things worse. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
"I'll look for it now," I said, keeping my head down, hoping that would be enough to calm his rage.
"If this happens again, you'll regret it!" He walked out, still mumbling something I'd rather not hear.
My mom appeared right after, always doing her best to smooth things over but too scared to confront him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low, as if afraid to be heard.
I just nodded, unable to say more. I knew my mom was stuck in this situation just like me, and she was doing what she could, but sometimes I wondered if things would ever change.
After he left, my mom took care of handing me the machete, which was exactly where I had left it the night before. I felt like I needed some time away. I grabbed my jacket and decided to walk to the lake. That was the only place I could find any kind of peace. When I got there, I saw Carl sitting by the shore, throwing rocks into the water.
