Rid the People

Chapter 1

Prologue:

The crimson-like ooze gnawed at her, clinging along the curve of her limbs. There it latched itself around the edges of her elbows, cemented beneath her fingernails and along the cut of her jaw. A fresh layer smeared itself along the drape of her collarbone and down her chest. What was worse: the gooey consistency hugging her to a paste, until it cracked and flaked a darker shade, metallic black; or was it the uncertainty, without knowing whether it was their blood or her own?

Her hand used to tremble. Now it was still upon her movements, soundless, a hushed whisper cutting through the crisp night air. She could no longer feel the crack of the blade as it burrowed beneath the mush below. She once wailed herself to sleep to the texture of this: but she would be sleeping heavily tonight.

She knew this occasion would come. It was only a matter of time. By which then she endured a sense of acceptance, of tranquility. It was better this way. Or else it was better to die.

But still, among all the feelings of inevitability, she hadn't lost the ability to challenge her thoughts. She sensed this was a good thing; finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. She had witnessed the gradual deterioration of ones mind, those who were her friends, whether from the strain of the virus or a repercussion to what the virus had done. But if there was one thing that hadn't vanished amidst the bloodshed, the crumbling decay of society, it was her sanity.

Or she could look at this as a wicked gift. For she'd suffer, everlastingly. What had happened to her was irreversible. But wasn't it better to still have your spirit intact by the end of it? She didn't want to be like them. She would fight until her very last breath not to be like them.

And still, she wasn't done fighting yet.

Chapter 1:

Lizzie tilted her head back in a deliberate manner, her crimson-painted lips spreading into a wide, dutiful smile that appeared faint beneath the hook of her cheekbones.

Cassidy appraised the lines, admiring how pretty Lizzie looked when she laughed.

Her best friend.

The words stung, burning her thoughts with an acid-like substance. Why did she have to be jealous of her best friend, why did she have to wish to look like her, when all Lizzie did was merely exist?

After laughing, Lizzie flicked through the settings of her TV, in which Cassidy scrolled through her facebook feed.

"There was some smoke outside. I think there might be a fire," Lizzie said, breaking what quietness hung between them.

Cassidy paused upon her friend telling her this, her finger hovering above an article titled: 2010: The Year of Biodiversity - Ten Endangered Species. She frowned, almost sighing aloud - did everything they read have to be so daunting and depressing?

"It's Down by Greenwell park," Lizzie continued, despite Cassidy overlooking her words, and after scrolling through the images of a Leatherback Turtle, she finally looked up.

"That's weird."

"Yeah I know."

The two girls ate in silence. Lizzie finished her chocolate bar first, whereby she turned the TV off and curled up beneath the blankets, like a cat setting down for the night. 

"You going to sleep?" Cassidy asked. "It's only 10pm."

"Yeah, we only squeezed in a couple of hours last night."