VIRUS - Redemption

SIX

12.06.2038

We all sat in a circle on the couches in the bottom floor lounge; to one side of me was East, the other Wyatt. I found myself concentrating on my breathing; today was too big of a day. Too many things had happened; I was out of my comfort zone by miles.

I left London. Something I was against; and quite frankly, didn't want to do. Stepping out of those gates was like taking away a security blanket. It was like robbing me of a type of comfort I had possessed for 18 whole years. I missed my Mother, something I didn't realise I would. Being in a house, knowing she isn't on the other side of the wall, gave me a sense of instability and homesickness. It made me imagine how it'll be when I leave for the War, if I do leave.

I hope Robert doesn't make me leave.

I came face to face with a Dead one. It touched me. It pushed me. It tried to kill me. It didn't give a fuck who I was, what I've done or my morals; it wanted me dead and it wanted my flesh. When my hand slipped from its forehead and I watched it's teeth slowly inching closer to my face, I felt my entire world slip with my hand. I saw my Mother, her kind face and how upset she was before I left.

I saw my Father. I saw his hand raised above me, I saw his scowl and frown. I heard him telling me it was my fault or that he was allowed to hit me. I felt his hand on my throat, arms, jaw, his fingers tangled in my hair to pull it. I watched him spitting on me, bruising me, threatening my Mother to not intervene. I heard his blame, his constant excuses – alcohol, anger problems, slip in judgement. I felt every single bad thing that he had ever done to me, every time he laid his finger on me; but none of the good parts. Luther was no longer my Dad in my brain, my memories; he was a cold human who hurt the people he loved.

If he loved me, that is.

The 5 seconds exchange with the Dead felt like an eternity. It's taken until now to sink in, but I mentally agreed that I needed to learn to shoot. Regardless of whether I participate in the War, I can't live like this. Vulnerable. That life is too scary for me.

I saw the first survivor camp other than London; and it shocked me. I was under the impression, from Luther's stories, that we were the only liveable camp in the United Kingdom. If there was a house like this, mere hours from London, then I couldn't fathom what the rest of UK was like. The number of survivors there may be, the communities they may have. This house had opened my eyes. I was living in a cloud of perfection that I needed to be grateful for, but it's beginning to become hard to be grateful when people are living their lives like this; free.

I couldn't imagine why the Outsiders want refuge in London; unless this isn't as safe as it seems. This life seemed better than London; no limits, no leaders, no rules or punishment. I would have liberty in this camp.

My heart had two blows today. Both unexpected, one unexplainable and the other unimaginable.

Wyatt was a female, to start. I came to the camp expecting 2 men, 2 more masculine authority figures I would have to battle. But Wyatt stepped out; pretty Wyatt. She was tall, at least 4 inches taller than me. Her blonde hair looked professionally curled and her thin body fit her clothes better than mine had ever fit me.

And she was Killian's.

Killian and I weren't friends, much to his disagreement, there was no real reason for me to feel weird; yet I did. No real boundaries were crossed between us, he was trying to be nice. Maybe, I became too attached with the idea of him being more than a friend; even though the thought had barely crossed my mind.

I would call it a wasted attraction. I felt attracted to this person, Killian, but had no plan to act or investigate it. He was handsome, and kind from what I could tell; but I was in no place to seek anything from him, at least not now. With Wyatt in the picture, neither of us will be in any place to seek anything out, not now or in the future. It was a wasted attraction.