-It's a Lie-

Being forced into survival by raiding people's homes would never have been called 'hopeful'. But in the end it was all lies. I guess I already knew that though, ever since me and my sister ran from others dying just to save ourselves. Like the eyes staring through the crack between the curtains while we grasp knives wet from the sweat falling from our faces. Like the hand slowly inching towards the doorknob, their smiles reflecting against the window that I was never too brave to look at. Like my sister's grin as she rears out of view, her laughter as she kills the others looking for water, food or anything that could bring some hope of any sort. It's a sickness that gets worse overtime, like the barbed wire fencing rusting and rusting with all the rain that passes over. It's the same sickness that drew my sister crazy.