"we're all killers. we've all killed parts of ourselves to survive. we've all got blood on our hands, something somewhere had to die so we could stay alive."
saige used to think the worst thing that could happen was the football captain not liking...
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Things were easier before the apocalypse.
Stressing over things like the quiz in Biology I didn't study for, or whether or not the football captain would ask me out. Now, I stress over how many bullets or water I have, whether or not we have enough food and water to get us somewhere safe. Whether or not I could sleep through the night without worrying about my flesh being pulled from my bones. Who I could trust.
Things were so easy.
Now, it's like the world wants me to fail. Like it's going to try everything in it's power to make sure that everything's not okay for even just a little while. I still remember the days at school with my friends and I. Where we'd pine over boys and compare grades. Now we compare bullet numbers, ration numbers, head counts. Everything had turned to numbers.
When I think about my past life, it feels like a dream. Like that part of myself was just apart of my imagination; something I made up to keep myself from going insane. That there was a part of me that was once normal. Now, I'm stuck in this nightmare. This nightmare that I can't wake myself up from, that everyday brings a new horror that I can't control.
It was eleven months into the apocalypse and all government help or assistance was gone. They tried quarantine, they tried lock down, they tried so hard to contain it, but it wasn't enough. It spread too fast, it was too much to control. So, they gave up, they said hell, we've waited hundreds of years for the end of the world and here it is, set up just for us. So, they let us burn.
The dead starting walking the earth almost a year ago, and population was nearly cut a forth. It has been 12 days since I've seen a human. A real actual human that wasn't trying to eat my flesh. Besides the human beside me, Asher.
He was mumbling some old song he used to listen to while we trudged through the forest, trying to find somewhere to stay for the night. We had no actual destination, we just walked North everyday in hope that something saves us. Someone saves us.
Ash still had hope that there was someone out there that had a safe place for us to live. That there was some kind of sanctuary where we could settle down and live for the rest of our lives. Live worry free, free of the dead. Maybe have a kid, maybe have a drink, somewhere where life was appreciated and not seen as an advantage.
When I saw another human, the first thing I always saw were their belongings. Did they have food? Water? Weapons?
The world had come to the point where you didn't ask whether or not they were married, how many kids they had, what life was like before shit hit the fan. It was always what do they have that I can use for myself?
The hard part wasn't dehumanizing the human race, it was objectifying them. Belittling them down to a mere object that I could use against someone else. When I thought about who I was before the end of the world, I didn't yearn for it. I wasn't proud of who I was today, who I had become.
I wasn't proud of the lives I've taken, the lives I've lost, and the lives I haven't lived. When I thought about who I was before, it never seemed real. Who I was today was a monster. A monster like the rest that roamed the earth. A monster that would do anything to protect herself and the ones she loved. I wasn't selfless, I was selfish.
"What are you thinking about, Saige?" Asher nudged my arm, pulling me from my thoughts.
"How I'm going to roast you over the fire tonight if you don't stop singing that song." I said to him, my gun knocking against my leg at every step.
"I'd rather you shoot me than roast me alive." He twisted around to look at me, grinning.
Asher was the first person I found after my family died. The first person I found after my brother. He wasn't obnoxious or willing to kill me for my supplies, he wanted to help me. He wanted to pull me under his wing and nurture me through this terrible world. Although I was older than him, he still treated me like his little sister.
It was the first time we'd spoken in days. See, Ash and I, we could go days without talking. No words needed to be exchanged because it was the same everyday. A nod in the morning to signify moving time, a nod when a Z comes around, a nod at night before one of us tried to sleep while the other had watch.
Asher was 19 while I was 22. In school, I would have never been friends with someone like him. Classified him as a weirdo and never looked back. I was studying Psychology and Medicine in college. I wanted to be a doctor or a therapist. That was the normal life.
I didn't know that reading a medical book for 8 hours a day would prepare me to stitch up bullet wounds without a doctor or hospital. I learned how to watch people die from infections because we didn't have the antibiotics for it. I learned how to watch the people I love die and know that there was nothing I could do about it.
I put myself in a mindset that was kill or be killed, no matter the cost. I didn't think about the family they had before, or what kind of job they had, who they were before the apocalypse. It was always who they were now. What I could do to save myself. When I looked at them, I didn't see a human. I saw the enemy.
Because when it was me or them, it was me. It was always me. Because I was selfish. I will always choose me over anyone. Although, I was at peace with the thought of dying. I knew that one day, possibly soon, my life will have ended.
But when someone's holding a gun to my head, threatening to blow my brains out, I fight. I fight like my life meant something, like I mean something, but I don't. I'm just another human who's bound to be ripped apart by the dead walking the earth. I was just another human who has to supplies they need. I wasn't an actual person, I was an object.
"You think too much." Asher said from beside me, his golden hair hovering over his eyebrows, greased over from lack of washing.
"Old habits die hard, sweetheart." I said sweetly, sending a grin in his direction.
We stopped in front of an old house, Asher's hand going to his hips. "This could do for the night."
I nodded, following him inside, clearing the house with our sidearms before sharing the top bedroom.
"We can share that packet of crackers and beef jerky before going to bed," he said, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed. "I'll take first watch."
"Thank you."
He reached over, squeezing my cheek between his thumb and forefinger before smiling. "Get some sleep, Frey, rest that crazy brain of yours."
"Goodnight, sweetie pie, don't let the beg bugs bite-" he said before stopping. "Or zombies? Don't let the zombies bite?"
I shook my head, burying myself beneath the covers. "Goodnight, Ash."
