Our Broken World

Chapter 21

I practically fly across the little shack, crashing against the wall. I almost go through it, because the wooden panels are so weak and old, but thankfully they hold me and I fall to the floor with a loud thud.

In my peripheral vision I see the Mixed attack Dylan, biting his neck. Then I hear a gun shot and see the Mixed collapse to the ground, from the corner of my eye.

I try to sit up, but I can't; I feel dizzy because of the blow. I also quickly realize that my vision is blurred. I close my eyes and open them again, and that makes my vision a bit better. But still not good enough.

I see Dylan crouch down next to me, covering a part of his neck with his hand, and I feel his other hand hold me gently and put me into a sitting position. I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and when I touch it, I feel a cold liquid running down my neck. Blood.

''Is she okay?'' I hear Jonah ask. Why does he even care?

''Barely. Not thanks to you,'' Dylan growls at Jonah, but he's still looking at me. They, or better yet, Dylan, still won't drop it. Even after what just happened. Men! I think to myself.

Despite the pain I feel in the back of my head, I manage to utter: ''I'm fine. Just stop fighting. Be quiet, both of you!''

They both look at me in surprise first, but then understanding spreads across their faces. Jonah goes to the other side of the shack, to Benson, while Dylan sits down next to me and takes a look at the wound on my head. I look at his injured neck, giving him a questioning gaze. He returns a reassuring gaze, nodding, as if to say he's alright. It's probably just a scratch.

My scratch actually also doesn't hurt that bad and I notice my vision has become clear again.

Dylan looks into my eyes, worried. I'm thankful that I can see his deep oaky eyes clearly again. ''Are you sure you're okay?'' He whispers.

I nod and he gently moves some hair away from my face and tucks them behind my ear. I smile at him a little, as much as I can.

I look at the Mixed lying dead on the floor; Jonah shot it. The door is somehow shut again and I can't hear any other Mixed outside. I just hope others won't come for us too.

I rest my head on Dylan's chest and he puts his arms around me. Then we wait. And wait. Worried. Tired. Scared. We wait until the morning comes.

When the sun comes up, we slowly get up, exhausted and drained after a wearisome night. When we see sun rays shine through the little shack that was our shelter for one scary, horrific night, we leave the shack and stretch our legs outside.

''What do we do now?'' I ask. I'm in my PJ's and am dying to change. I can barely run without a bra, besides, too much is showing in these short PJ's.

''We can't possibly go back. The guards will ...'' I try to say, but Jonah cuts me off, scowling and exclaiming: ''They're all dead. Me and Benson made sure of that.''

I stare at him for a second and then say: ''You just killed them all?''

''They were shooting at us. I didn't have a choice,'' He responds indifferently. How can he act like this right now?

''That's because you shot at them first. You killed the kids,'' I say, anger evident in my voice. It's daytime now, so it's the right time to fight and yell. I wait for Dylan to say something, but now he's quiet. Great! He was ready to bust Jonah's balls in the middle of the night when we were surrounded by the Mixed, but now he won't say a word. Men, I think to myself again, for the second time this day. But right after that, another thought creeps into my mind: What is happening with Dylan? What the hell is going on with him?