I'm Not Dead

[ C H . 1 4 ]

"Rocco,"

A damp hand with an overwhelming metallic smell touched my cheek.

"Rocco,"

Groaning softly, I fluttered open my heavy eyes, before being met with the resentful glare of Sophia's white iris. Feeling my steady breathing increase, I dare to let my eyes drift to the hand pressed against my skin. It was completely drenched in blood.

Before I had a chance to react to though, I felt her fingertips dig into my skin as she gripped my chin and made me look into the white void of her eyes.

"Rocco!"

Gasping, I jerked awake in a panic, trapped in the surreal clarity of my dream. Whipping my head around frantically, I was prepared to see Sophia's dead face glaring down at me but instead saw the teal cafeteria walls. Realizing where I was, I managed to get a loose grip on my stimulated senses as my trembling limbs fell back against the counter wall. Looking down then, I saw Mateo's head in my lap.

Nostrils flaring, I swallowed my rising sob and instead tried to focus my attention on the soft texture of his thick blonde hair as I ran my fingers through it. I remember now. Mateo and I had been talking about his choir concert when he asked if I could stay awake while he slept. I had only planned on resting my eyes for a moment, but I guess my prevalent exhaustion won. Sighing, I continued playing with Mateo's hair and listened to the rhythm of his breathing as I let my mind wander.

Sophia was dead because of me. 

No, I didn't intentionally kill her, nor was I intending on harming her, but I acted on impulse and shoved her into her demise. Surprisingly, much to my dismay, I didn't miss her. I didn't even feel like shedding a tear for her. 

However, I was angry at myself for being the cause of her death. 

I wish I could go back in time and save her because no matter how spiteful she was, she was still a human being who didn't deserve to die the way she did. She was someone I once cared about, loved even, and it made my insides ache to know we could never repair that relationship. 

The only thing that brought me comfort was knowing she would've willingly pushed one of us, especially if it meant avoiding death. My betrayal was an accident born from provoked rage; her betrayal was a selfish decision that her life had more value than mine or Alice's.

The crunch of broken glass pulled me out of my thoughts.

Jerking awake, Mateo quickly sat up.  "Roc," he whispered, gripping my arm.

Raising a finger to my lips, I slowly pulled away from him as whoever it was continued shuffling around. Reaching out, I discreetly wrapped my fingers around the handle of the smashed coffee pot. Being careful not to make a sound, I gently shifted positions so I could rise to my feet. Whatever it was, was on the other side of the counter. I could hear the smacking of their lips and ragged breathing. It seemed to be eating.

Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, my knees knocked together as I began to rise. I was prepared for a lot of things. A soldier, a fellow survivor, but I feared it was yet another dead man intending on further ruining my night. Once my eyesight raised slightly above the edge of the counter, I could see a body hunched over something. 

Breathing hard, I then took a leap of faith as I stood entirely up. "Hey!" I yelled, raising my coffee pot to throw it at the figure's head, but then my muscles untensed in relief. "What the hell Lorenzo! I almost busted your head open,"

Upon my shout, Lorenzo looked up from the pastry he was devouring with bloodshot eyes. He looked awful. His skin was pasty white, his lips were chapped and I could see beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. "No," he whimpered.