Hunter and the Hunted (Septiplier)

~~ CHAPTER FIVE ~~

At first he just stares, not saying a word. I hadn't shown anyone before, but I guess I could make an exception for the dead man. His eyes run along ever self-inflicted scar and patched burn mark, his mouth slightly hanging open but only a little. He looks from my scars to my eyes and then he closes them breathing out. "Your death hit a lot of people hard Mark." I say, "It just hit some harder than others." I finish truthfully. He hangs his head in-between his knees where his arms are propped up. "That was because of me?" He asks a litter jittery, "No." I reply. "What? What do you mean no? You just said..." "I said that your death hit people hard, some more than others. It wasn't your fault you died, well didn't die, so no, these aren't because of you, these are because of me." I state. "What do you mean?" He asks looking back into my eyes. I don't say anything for a moment; I just stare into them, getting lost in thought. Mark was a different man, but his eyes never changed, unlike mine.

I break the staring contest and look out over the forest listening to the growling and groaning from bellow. "I mean, I did this because I was weak." I breathe. "You're not weak, Jack." Mark says, but I cut him off almost instantly, "I said was. And like I said before, the man who gave me these died a long time ago." He seems to nod his head thinking about what I had just shown and told him.

After a little while of silence he takes another look down at my arms and I see his eyes widen. He seems to move backwards a little when he sees the red, nasty looking bit marks on my right arm. He looks from my arm to my eyes and I give him a look to say 'what?' "You've been bitten." He says softly looking at me like I was some sort of monster. He stands slowly reaching behind himself for something to kill me with probably. I get up slowly still in a crouching position and I see him holding my knife. "Mark, I wouldn't." I say calmly looking from the knife to him and then down at the nasty drop. "You will turn." Mark says sternly. "No Mark, you don't under-." He throws the knife at me which I am quick enough to grab with my left hand before it comes into contact with my head. Mark seems to panic a little and I stand fully before throwing the knife down at my feet causing it to stand up right lodged in the wood. "They all turn!" He shouts at me. "If not now, sooner or later!" "Mark!" I shot back, causing the dead below to start up again. "Did it happen back there?!" He shouts again. "Mark, would you shut the fuck up for a second?!" "When did it happen?!" "Two fucking years ago!" I scream at him, causing him to flinch. "Two years ago?" He says calmly. I breathe out again, not actually realising that I was holding it in. I nod walking to the edge of the wooden frame and stare out into the night.

'I held her for a few more moments, sobbing above her expressionless face. I look back over to the severed head when I hear something; it was still alive, but how? What was going on? I was so confused that I felt myself begin to hyperventilate, I needed to calm down. I breathe heavily looking at the snapping head of the man I had killed, or tried to kill. What were they? I mean, I had a theory, but even the thought of it made me feel like I was going crazy. If it was what I thought, I had played enough games to know what to do next.

I lay her on the ground and take the shovel in my hands once again, walking over to the, ahh the, Zombie? No, it just doesn't sound right. I walk over to 'it' and raise the sharp end of the shovel over its face, and then dropping it, hearing a devastating crack and seeing blood and something, that I didn't even want to know what, fall from its cracked skull and all over the ground before me. It wasn't moving anymore, so at least I knew how to kill them. At this point though I had no idea what was going on, and I look back to my dead parent.

I stare for a few moments until I swear I see her move. "Ma?" I asked, she twitches again. I slide down beside her and lift her in my arms. I can see her eyes moving and I shake her a little. Her eyes flutter open and I am graced with the same milky gaze that I had met before, in the eyes of the other. I gasp and attempt moving backwards but she, it, grabs my arm and sinks its teeth in. I let out a loud scream as I rip my arm away leaving a sliver of my own skin hanging from its mouth. I lunge back towards the shovel and with one swift movement I had planted it firmly in its brain, and it falls.'