The Dead and The Damned

Part 16

"Delilah's sick." Sam says. I freeze, a chill running up my spine. I climb out of the car before Harry can stop me, the sound of his voice calling my name sending a warm ache through my stomach. I walk over to the van, my heart pounding, and pull open the sliding door. Madison is holding Delilah, her expression worried. Shit. Delilah's whimpers seem to echo off the walls of the bus, sending another chill down my spine.

"What's wrong with her?" I ask sternly, climbing into the bus. Bella and Liam are in the back, talking in hushed voices. Good. They'd be a perfect couple. Madison glances up at me, her eyes glossed over with fear.

"I-I don't know! She has a fever, and s-she's sweating. She keeps spitting up too, and won't stop crying!" Madison says, her voice strained. I take Delilah from her arms, her skin hot to the touch. She squirms in my arms, tears streaming down her face, her arms shaking in frusturation. Her skin is bright red. Sweat is beading at her forehead. I place my hand on her back, and she screams, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"We should probably check to see if anything else is bothering her." I say. I set her down on the floor of the bus, stripping her out of her little onesie and inspecting her stomach. Nothing seems wrong, besides the fact her skin is bright red and pale. I flip her over, and freeze. Bile rises in my throat. There's a mark on her back, near her shoulder, with ridges in it as if there were teeth. She must've been bitten before we found her.

"She's been bitten." I whisper. I run my fingers lightly over her skin, flipping her over as she whimpers again. I look up at Madison, my lip trembling.

"What do we do?" she asks, her voice soft. She looks as scared as I feel, even though she's a complete stranger. She shouldn't care about our group. But for some reason, she does.

"We can't let her suffer. We have to..t-to put her down, I guess." I sigh. I pick her up gently, cradling her in my arms and stepping out of the bus. Madison follows close behind, her breathing becoming shaky as tears spring to her eyes. Harry is leaning against the front of his truck, a cigarette dangling from his parted lips, tendrils of smoke curling up into the air. I walk past him, ignoring the familar warm ache I get around him, and carrying Delilah over to a soft spot in the grass. I set her wiggling body down in the grass. Sam pads over to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asks. I don't meet his gaze, brushing my hand over the handle of the gun in my boot.

"She was bitten. I'm putting her out of her misery." I mutter, pulling the gun out of my boot. I run it through my hands, remembering the lessons Liam gave us, and turning the saftey off. I point it down at Delilah's forehead with trembling hands, my finger grasped against the trigger.

"I'm sorry baby girl." And then I pull the trigger. The gunshot explodes in the air, making my ears ring. Delilah's forehead is covered in blood, the bullet inches deep beneath the skin. Any strength I had left dwindles away. The gun slips through my fingers, falling to the ground, and everything is silent. I can faintly hear someone calling my name, but everything is a blur. My heart is pounding against my chest, bursting in my ears. Bile rises in my throat again. I have to get away from here. I have to get away. I..I have to -

"I have to get away! Let me go!" I scream, tearing away from what I assume was Sam's grasp. I dash through the trees, the grass squishing beneath my feet. I have no idea what I was running from. Instinct just sent me running. My foot catches on a root curling through the ground, sending me falling facefirst to the ground. My knee scratches against the root, and I wince. Tears are dripping down my cheeks. I crawl over to a nearby tree, setting my back against the bark. I take a shaky breath, resting my forehead on my knees. What have I done? I mean, I guess it was the right thing to do. Right? My breath comes out in shallow gasps, and I tuck my knees closer to my chest. Why me? Honestly, why did the world have to turn to shit? I shut my eyes tight, grasping my hair beneath my fingers. I grimace at the grease left behind on my hands. When was the last time I showered? Since when had warm water become a leisure I couldn't afford? Numerous questions swirl in my mind, and I let out a small sob, wrapping my arms around my knees.