Zombie survivor

[71] Encouragement

The campfire had burned down to glowing embers, casting faint orange light against the surrounding trees. The group slept in a scattered circle around the camp, exhaustion finally overtaking even the most restless among them. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant howls of creatures far off in the darkness.

Ms. Heather sat upright near the fire, her injured leg stretched out in front of her, the crude splint pressing uncomfortably against her skin. She shifted slightly, biting back a wince as pain shot through her leg. She let out a quiet sigh, leaning back against a rock, her eyes unfocused as she stared into the dim glow of the embers.

Nearby, Trev sat with his legs crossed, his face illuminated faintly by the dying fire. He was leaning on his knees, his eyes darting nervously between Ms. Heather and the shadows beyond the camp. Every so often, he adjusted his glasses or fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, his unease palpable.

"You okay?" he finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, uncertain.

Ms. Heather turned her head toward him, offering a faint smile. "Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said, her voice a little too cheerful to be convincing. "Don't worry about me."

Trev frowned, his gaze lingering on her leg. "You don't look fine. Your leg... does it still hurt?"

Ms. Heather hesitated, her smile faltering. "It's... a little sore," she admitted, glancing away. "But it's nothing I can't handle."

"Right," Trev muttered, not entirely convinced. He looked down at his hands, his fingers picking at the edge of his sleeve. "You shouldn't lie, you know. You don't have to pretend everything's okay."

Ms. Heather blinked, startled by the quiet directness of his words. "I—well, I just don't want to worry anyone," she said softly. "There's so much going on already."

"Still," Trev said, glancing at her briefly before looking away again. "You shouldn't have to lie about being in pain."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet settling between them like a heavy blanket. Finally, Trev shifted, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Thanks," he said suddenly, his voice barely audible.

Ms. Heather tilted her head, confused. "Thanks? For what?"

"For not looking down on me," Trev said, his gaze fixed on the ground. His voice trembled slightly as he continued. "Everyone else does. My whole life, I've been... that guy. The loser. The weird kid nobody wants to talk to."

Ms. Heather frowned, her heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his tone. "Oh, Trevor, I don't think—"

"It's true," Trev interrupted, his voice growing louder. "I've never had real friends. Not offline, anyway. The only people who ever talked to me were online, and even they didn't take me seriously."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what my 'job' was? I was a Discord mod. That's it. That's the only thing I've ever done that felt like it mattered, and even then, people just made fun of me for it."

Ms. Heather leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. "Trevor..."

Trev's voice cracked as he kept talking, the words spilling out like he'd been holding them back for years. "Everywhere I go, I'm the joke. The guy nobody wants around. Even here, I know they're all thinking it. Tyler, Jordan, Brad—they all think I'm useless. Dead weight."

His hands clenched into fists on his knees, his shoulders trembling. "And maybe they're right. Maybe I am useless."

"Stop that," Ms. Heather said firmly, her gentle tone cutting through his spiral of self-loathing. "Trevor, you're not useless."

Trev looked up at her, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. "You don't have to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm not," Ms. Heather said, her voice steady. She leaned toward him, her hands resting lightly on her lap. "I mean it. You're much more capable than you think."

Trev blinked, his expression wavering between disbelief and hope. "But... I've never done anything right. I screw everything up."

"That's not true," Ms. Heather said gently. "You've been helping all of us survive out here. Gathering supplies, keeping watch—you're part of this team, Trevor. We couldn't do this without you."

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Come on, Ms. H. You don't have to sugarcoat it."

"I'm not sugarcoating anything," she said, her voice firm but kind. "You're stronger than you realize, and you've been through so much. The fact that you're still here, still trying, says a lot about the kind of person you are."

Trev's shoulders shook, his head dropping into his hands. He let out a shaky breath, his voice breaking. "I don't know if I can believe that."

Ms. Heather reached out hesitantly, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "Trevor," she said softly, "you don't have to be perfect. Nobody expects you to be. Just keep being you, and I promise, that's enough."

Trev looked up at her, his tear-streaked face full of vulnerability. For the first time in a long while, he saw something other than pity or disdain in someone's eyes—he saw genuine care. He sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Ms. Heather smiled warmly, squeezing his arm gently. "You're welcome."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling embers filling the quiet space between them. Trev took a deep, shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I just... I want to prove to everyone that I'm not worthless."

"You don't need to prove anything to anyone," Ms. Heather said firmly. "You just need to believe in yourself. And I know that's hard, but you can do it."

Trev nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. "I'll try," he said quietly.

"That's all anyone can ask," Ms. Heather replied, her voice soft and reassuring.

The two sat together, the silence no longer heavy but comforting. Trev wiped his eyes one last time, sitting a little straighter as he kept watch over the camp. Ms. Heather leaned back against the rock, her leg still throbbing but her heart a little lighter.

And as the night stretched on, the fire burned steadily, a quiet testament to the fragile strength they all carried within.

Q: Do you wish you had a teacher like Ms. Heather?