Just One Bite (On Hold)

Fog

When I wake I find myself lying on my side, still curled up in a ball, though. Sitting up I see that it is now dark outside my window. Have I really slept all day? I get up to look at my clock, but it is only flashing 5:36PM. The power must have gone out while I was asleep, and according to my clock it was just five hours and thirty-six minutes ago. Just my luck, I think glumly. Thankfully, both my face and head no longer hurt. I was sure I broke my nose, but I guess not. But, hey, I’m not complaining.

My stomach rumbles from the lack of nourishment today, so I slowly make my way towards my door when the memory of what happened earlier hits me. I sway for a moment almost collapsing, catching myself on the door to keep from falling. Then, slowly, I make my way down the hall, just to make sure it wasn't all some sick, twisted nightmare. Looking into my parents' room I let out a soft moan. Unfortunately, it was not all a bad dream. Both my parents’ bodies lie dead in a crumpled heap, just how I left them.

All of the events that happened come rushing back at once threatening to collapse again: Mom trying to bite me, Dad’s terrible scream still echoing in my ears, me and those retched scissors, and the blood. Oh, so much blood…

Finally it is too much for me to handle and I crumple to the ground looking similar to how my parents lay. The only difference is I con hold myself up and my body is not caked with blood.

 I feel the need to puke, but since I have not eaten nothing comes up. For several minutes I stay hunched over on the floor dry heaving until my body can no longer take it, then I just give out and fall flat, tears streaking my face.

I lie on the floor, defeated. After about five or so minutes I force myself to get up. Struggling, not physically but mentally, I manage to get back to my hands and knees and, somehow, to my feet. Getting one last look at my parents I close the door to their room, feeling like I just closed the door to suffering. In reality I just do not want to look at their mutilated bodies every time I walk by.

Making my way towards the kitchen I turn on some of the lights. Once I have the lights on the house doesn’t feel so empty. The memories from this morning make my stomach twist and a nauseous feeling rises again.

 Going into the kitchen I notice the coffee pot is still completely full, and next to it sits my mom’s knocked over coffee mug. Picking up the coffee mug I scream as loud as I can and throw it against the wall, shattering the mug into a mess of pieces. Turning around I slide down the counter to sit on the floor, hiding my head in my arms.

“Why my family?” I cry to no one. “Why? We did nothing wrong!”

Yelling won’t solve the problem, Tavia, I hear the long gone whisper of Dad having a talk with me in the living room after I was sent home for getting in a very heated argument at school.

I know, “I answer, even though he can no longer hear me. Sitting up straight, I lean my head against the cabinets. I need to think this out; I need to be rational.

“Oh, who am I kidding? The world’s being overrun by freaking zombies! There is nothing rational about that!”

Again Dad’s voice comes to me. The best way to get through something is to think it through. Then he adds. “Always be smarter than your opponent. If you ever find yourself in another fight think like them. What would they do? And then you’ll either find a way to defend yourself or strike a winning blow to the other person.”

“So you want me to hit them?” I asked, seriously confused.

“No, no, no. I want you to find something that either only they know or something they don’t know and use that. Now, don’t go off spreading rumors or make things worse, but it always helps to have a little leverage. Almost always that will help.”