The Anomaly Affliction

Twenty Three

Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, depression

It takes every ounce of strength I have in me not to scream.

He got shot. He got shot.

On instinct, I drop the lid of the crate over my head and curl into a ball.

Harrison got fucking SHOT.

I hear a cry from outside. It must be someone in the group, terrorised by the sight.

"Pests!" a man's voice shouts. "Fire!"

Suddenly the horrifying sound of gunfire fills the air. There must be at least five guns firing out there. I squeeze my eyes shut. No sound has ever filled me with more terror. Why can't the guns shut up? Shut up, shut up, shut up.

And after a couple of minutes, they do. And what remains is a stony silence.

Then I hear the man's voice say: "Inform President Curtis that the pests have been eliminated. No survivors."

My hand flies to my mouth and tears start to stream down my face. No survivors...they're all dead...

Stay quiet, Violet, I think to myself. You can't cry now, they'll hear you.

I keep my hand firmly clasped over my mouth, breathing irregularly, waiting to start driving. I hear footsteps walking towards the truck. Someone seems to put another crate next to mine, before jumping out of the truck and closing the doors. I can't hear anything now, except my breathing and my rocketing heart rate. Suddenly the engine starts up, startling me, and the truck starts moving. He just shot my friends dead and he's simply driving away? At least he won't hear me cry now. I bring my hand away from my face.

Harrison, Nova, Cage, Vic and X all died. They fucking died. They all got shot and they all died because of me. Because of me...

I should never have joined them. I should've handed myself in to the Guards. I should be in MisMap. I fucking deserve it. Or maybe I should've never run away in the first place. I should've let them vaccinate me like everyone else. I shouldn't be here. I should've died when I tried to. They should be alive, not me. I should be dead and gone and rotting in the ground.

I wish I was.

The tears don't stop for a long time. I've never cried for so long. When they finally do, I'm left with puffy red cheeks and a familiar feeling of numbness. But this time the feeling is worse than ever. Even worse than when I tried to kill myself. But I welcome the feeling now. It's what I deserve. I am responsible for the deaths of the five people who took me in when I ended up out here. The five people who protected me, fed me, taught me how to survive, and agreed to help me get back to the girl I love. And what good did that do them? Why did they take me in? Why?

I guess it doesn't matter now. What matters is that they're dead, and their blood is on my hands.