"Because I needed to put them out of their misery," you respond.
His intense, bright, blue eyes. His sleek, long, brown hair. His smile that's hard to hate. You just can't get enough.
When it started, you were independent, only Flare was there to ac...
Black. Pitch black. Just like the night sky. It swallowed you whole and now you are stuck. You're completely fine with that. Except you remember what happened. Carl. He was with you. Something lit a bright scarlet fire ablaze. It was strong. Strong enough for you to see through the darkness. Immediately, you were drawn to it. It's because you are human. Humans are naturally drawn to light objects. As you begin walking closer, it gradually becomes bigger. Do not be afraid. It calls out to you. You place your hands near it to keep warm. Suddenly, your head starts to spin. Your vision becomes blurry.
...
"I'm sorry," you whisper.
You grab their shotguns. You knew they always kept it in their back pockets just in case of an emergency. Your mother was left handed. Therefore, she had hers specialized. She loved it as much as you did. She kept it clean. You could even see your reflection on it. Your father was the exact opposite. A righty. With a black gun in his hand, who knows how many sins he's committed. He was a blacksmith. He's the one who made your mother the gun. That's why she kept it so close.
"I'm so sorry," you repeat and place their own guns against them. You gently rest it on their heads. You pull the trigger, but do not close your eyes as you watch them fall. Blood sprayed on to the sand, but was washed away by the deep blue ocean. Tears fill your eyes and you could no longer see. "I'm sorry."
"Hey! You! Over there! See Sharon, I told you I heard a gunshot."
That's when you knew time was up. You get up and sprint for your life, taking the precious guns with you. After all, that's all you had left of them. You wipe the tears that stain your cheeks. They were gone. Now you are officially alone, for the first time in your life. Once you were sure it was safe, you let it all out and sob.
"Man, you are one hell of a child," a tall lean girl puts her hand out in front of me. She has hair as red as fire. You notice something different about her. The eyes. The left one was a light mint shade of green, a scar runs through it. The other one was a darker shade of olive green. "Get up."
"Who are you?" you ask as you take her hand and she pulls you up.
"Look at the sunset, that's what I came here for. Before we go to war. I wanted to see it one last time," she replies, gazing at the fascinating scenery. "The name's Claire, but they all call me Flare. I saw what you did, no point in hiding it. I can turn you in anytime, but that wouldn't be useful. It'll just be a waste."
"You're not scared?" you say shakily, still baffled.
"Nahhh kid," she turns to look at you, straight in the eyes. You see a flame. A flicker of hope. "Are you sure you're not scared of me?"
"No," you respond more confidentially.
"Say," she starts and holds her hand out, ready to make a deal. "Why not we become partners in crime? After all, we're going to war together, War Child."
...
"Hey there. You're finally awake, kid," Flare was sitting pretty, right next to you. "C'mon, you didn't really think I would die, did you?" you tease. "You do know that I've survived blasts bigger than that." "Mhmmm," she hums. "I knew you'd make it, but I'm not so sure about the boy." "The boy?" your heart skips a beat. No. It can't be. You remember. He was there with you. "What do you mean?" "What's his name?" she stops to think. "Right. Carl's not doing so good." Carl. That idiot.
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