Guilt (A Zero Spin-Off)

ThirtyFive - Ella

When the person who had come upstairs and discovered the body in my room finally pushed open the door of the room where I hid, I was almost relieved. There was something about the anticipation, the waiting, that made sitting there in the dark so awful that seeing his not so intimidatingly tall figure standing in front of the open door eased my nerves just the slightest bit.

He had to know we, at least one of us, was in here after the other rooms had turned up empty. Maybe because of this he was taking his time. He didn't barge into the room, guns swinging. He pushed open the door slowly, as though he thought we were waiting on the other side to pounce. When it was fully open and no one attacked, he took a timid step into the room, stopping to look in all directions for any possible assailants.

It was almost funny that he, who had entered this place with nefarious intentions, would be nervous as though we were the boogeymen after him.

He shone his flashlight into the room, the light passed over me but didn't stop. He didn't see me. Maybe it was nerves, maybe he was just an idiot. His sweep of the room seemed to convince him that if anyone was in here they were hiding better than I was and he began to move toward the closet.

No.

That was not the plan. He was supposed to have seen me.

Having been overlooked, I wanted to stay hidden. It would have been easy enough to do so.

Instead of giving into my desire to remain safe and alive, I shifted. I reached up to the end table and felt around for what was on top. When my fingers touched something with considerable enough weight to it, I slid it over the edge. With a thud, it landed on the carpet next to me and I didn't have to pretend to be afraid when the man whirled around, his flashlight on me like a spotlight.

"Please." Don't kill me, I thought though I only managed to utter the single word. I raised my hand in the air so he would know I had no weapons, no way of defending myself. I didn't think it mattered to these people one bit, but I hoped the sympathy card would at least get me safe enough to think straight and stay alive until I could come up with something better. He stared at me for a long time though I couldn't see his face for the light shining in mine. Please don't let there be blood on my hands. The literal kind, figuratively speaking my hands were soaked.

"Stand up," he barked, he sounded younger than I expected and more nervous too though he was doing his best not to show it.

I think he was aiming a gun at me, but I wasn't sure. Shaking, I stood, keeping my hands high.

He walked across the room, heavy footfalls, toward me. When he grabbed my arm, I yelped half in surprise, half in pain at how rough he'd been as he yanked me closer and spun me around. Horrible thoughts, my greatest fears, began to fill my mind now that I was powerless to this man. I held no upper hand.

His hands patted over my body but seemingly only to search for weapons and some of my fear evaporated.

"Where're the others?" he demanded.

"W-we were running... low on water."

And I noticed his hand trembling around my arm. In the back of my mind, that struck me as odd. This - manhandling, threatening - it wasn't something he was used to or comfortable with, I thought. Speaking to him was easier, then. When I thought he probably didn't want to kill me as much as I didn't want to be killed.

"They left you all alone here?"

Up close, I could see the way his eyes narrowed in confusion as much as mistrust. I was quick to shake my head. If I said I was left alone here he'd either know I killed his friend or think I was lying and search the rest of the room.