Once Again

Chapter Forty-Seven - New Dawn

Picture: Braken A Leg Out There by Dreamin-8-bit

New Dawn

"If you are better than my baby," She said sweetly, "you'll live. If not ..." She laughed to Herself and pulled out a small gun.

Braken went completely rigid as She ruffled his hair and stood up. No. This couldn't be happening. She was going to kill them. All eight of them. He wanted to run, to get out of there, but he couldn't move. His legs wouldn't let him. He still felt sick from the meal an hour before.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shrink into the enormous sweater She'd given him, but of course, he couldn't do it. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked them under his sweater, feeling exposed without any pants on.

"Watch, Braken," She said. He shook his head and kept his eyes shut tight. She grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked his head up. "I said, watch, Braken, or you're next."

He blinked and nodded quickly, his heart ready to burst out of his chest.

She examined the first prisoner, but only looked at him a second before She held up Her gun and fired. Braken screamed and covered his mouth with his hands, staring wide-eyed as the prisoner's body crumpled on the floor. She was going to kill all of them. He knew She wouldn't think any of them were better than him. He was Her little baby Braken. He could already sense it in Her thoughts. She was going to kill them all, just because She could.

She shot the next one, right through the forehead, and Braken started to cry. Everyone's thoughts were panicked and terrified, and he couldn't close them off. He was hit by not only his own overwhelming terror, but everyone else's. He couldn't take it anymore. He dug his knuckles into his temples, as if that would keep them out, but it only gave him a throbbing headache, and it did nothing to block out each gun shot as it came.

"I'm so sorry," he cried silently. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," someone said - directly into his head.

He risked a glance up and flinched at the next gun shot, and flinched again as the body hit the floor with a thump.

The last prisoner flashed him a sad smile. "It's not your fault," he said again.

"But it's because of me She's killing you!" Braken buried his face in his arms and sobbed.

"It's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, stop your wailing," She snapped, and Braken tried to smother his cries. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey. It'll be alright. Be strong for me, okay?"

"I can't. I'm nothing but a failure."

"That's what they're telling you, isn't it? That's not true. I can already tell you have a beautiful soul."

"I have ... a beautiful soul?"

"Yes. Don't you forget it."

"Braken, I thought I told you to watch," She ordered.

A beautiful soul ... what did he mean?

Braken slowly pulled himself out of his tight, protective ball and let his eyes flicker up to the second to last prisoner. Before he could take a breath, a bang rattled through his skull and he was splattered with something - blood. Blood and something, something, something -

He tried to scream, but it wouldn't come out. All he could do was sit there, wide-eyed, mouth agape in horror, feeling the human brains stick to his sweater, his legs, his face. He finally let out a little squeal as his weak stomach lurched, and he fell off of his chair and threw up. He coughed hard and wiped his mouth with a clean spot of his sweater, and then scrambled to his feet and squealed again. He tried to wipe the mess off of his face, but he just smeared it across his skin. It stuck to everything, getting in his hair, dripping down his neck, and he couldn't take it anymore. He turned and ran as fast as he could, but he slipped on a particularly squishy chunk and crashed to the floor, sobbing. No matter what he did, he couldn't get it off. It was all over him.