What We Lost

alone

I was never scared of the end of the world. If our time came, and our greed caught up to us, it would be inevitable. But now, it is real. It is real and I don't know what to think.

It's been 5 days since all hell broke lose. 5 days since Lucas didn't return from outside. I'm too afraid to look out the windows, I don't want to see. I sit quietly in the kitchen, shaking out the last of the cereal we have left into a bowl. It's eerily quiet. I shovel a spoonful of wheat crunch into my mouth. Lucas took most of our canned things and stuff from the fridge in his bag. I can't live off of cereal forever. I eat until I'm full, and then I set the bowl by the sink.

I listen for knocks at the door, sitting on the stairs. As if Lucas would turn up. But deep down, I think I know he probably wont. I feel a wave of nausea hit me at the thought; I bend over and breathe in through my nose. In and out. In order to keep my food down I stop waiting and go up the stairs to my room. It's dark and the curtains are drawn. I haven't turned any of the lights on. I slowly approach the covered windows, pressing my hand through the curtain and against the cold glass. In a moment of curiosity I pull the curtain to the side just a bit, and peak outside.

There were only a few people. Maybe 4. Except they weren't people anymore. Groans and grunts could be heard, as they drag themselves across the street; wandering aimlessly. My heart pounds painfully. Thump. Thump. Thump. I focus on a woman, what's left of her. Her hair is matted, skin a deathly grey. Blood dripped down her crooked chin; and she had a painful, hungry look in her bloodshot eyes. It all hits me at once. I hunch over, emptying my stomach upon my bedroom floor. When I'm done, I wipe my mouth, stumbling over to my bed. The room is spinning like an optical allusion, the colors and walls blending together. I shut my eyes tightly, fighting off the dizziness. Beneath my eyelids I think of things. The best things I can remember. Our beach trip out of town, when I swam for the first time. I was 9 years old. Lucas was 12. It's like I'm back, lying in the sand again. I feel the hot grains beneath me, occasionally cooled as the shore came up in soft rhythmic waves. My cheeks sting with a forming sunburn. I take a breath and suddenly I'm covered. Waves crash against me. Pulling me down, down. Down to the bottom. My lungs burn as water fills them. Yet I don't fight for breath. I allow myself to sink until I'm nothing but the sea.