Left outside alone.

Dana's mother got sick and left her alone in a world with guns, cannibals and crazy people. She was 10 years then, now she's 18 . She doesn't trust anyone and has no problem killing. She's not scared and quite strong, but will she survive alone? or will she have to get along and make a group with what she hates the most (people) to stay alive?


16. Conversation killer.

There were some pictures on a shelf in the room, I looked carefully at them. Family pictures. I found one with Irene, Jen and a man. They looked happy. I placed the pic on the shelf again and took another one in my hands. Jimmy, he held a big fish in the picture. In the background there was a big lake with some boats. I found another one. Eric, what looked like to be his wife and daughter? Where were they now? Maybe I haven’t seen them yet, it’s a big place.

I placed it again and  found a picture of Travis with a team of other ‘nerds’ in laboratory suits  it made me giggle a bit and then one with Scooter riding a bull and one with Gus riding a motorcycle. But I couldn’t find a picture of Steven. Then my mind wondered. I didn’t even have a picture of my mother; I didn’t need a picture to remember her beautiful face, I felt a knot form in my chest as I visualized her face. My eyes became a bit wet but I refused to let the tears stream out, now was not the time. As I placed the picture I heard someone clearing his throat behind me. I turned around startled and saw Steven leaning against the doorway. A frown slowly appeared on my face as I looked down in some sort of awkwardness; I guess I owed him a ‘thank you’ or something, for carrying me to the bed and all that; but the thing is I’m not very good at ‘thank you’s’ .

“You got a good kick” he said and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“And a good reason too” I said and fiddled nervous with my fingers. He nodded agreeing.

“Is there a reason why you have all this pictures?” I asked and touched some of the pictures.

“Eric thinks it will help us get over lost ones and keep humanity” He replied, walking closer, but he still kept his distance.

“Keeping humanity huh? I’ve only been here some days and I’ve already heard those two words too many times” I said and looked at him. He just shrugged and removed his hands from his pockets. I turned my back to him and looked at the pictures “I can’t find a picture of you”.

“I don’t believe in sentimental bullsh*t” he placed himself in the couch. “Are you going on the run with us?” he asked and frowned. I nodded. The conversation may have seemed harmless and normal, but it wasn’t, there was anger in the air, I could almost smell it. None of us really wanted to talk with each other, but there were no one else to talk with. The episode in the basement still lingered between us; the talking was uncomfortable.

“Who were you with before all this?” he asked and threw his legs up on the table. Sorrow went through my body, and I didn’t even know why, that question just made me…remember my mom. Memories hurt when they suddenly appear like that. When I didn’t answer he tried with another question “Why were you alone? I mean, wouldn’t it be safer to find somebody?” I shrugged still fiddling with my fingers. An unpleasant silence fell upon us, seconds went by with just starring and deep breaths.

“How many people have you killed?” that question made my body stiff and my eyes widen.

“I…Why do you care?” I asked and looked absent at the pics.

“I don’t, personally” he shrugged “But I care about these peoples safety and I don’t trust you. Not even a bit” he paused “I don’t know why Eric is going so soft on you, but I’m sure as hell not going too” he said and frowned. Though I didn’t look at him, I could feel his eyes burn into the back of my head.

“I don’t give a f*ck about you trusting me, it’s your decision…Just back off, I have my secrets and you have yours. It’s not my problem that those retards brought me here, I didn’t ask for this bullsh*t with you and the others in this group. You’re just as foreign to me as I am to you so don’t get started with that safety sh*t” I said and turned around in his direction.

“I see you haven’t dropped your shitty attitude” he mumbled “I know Scooter crossed the line but you sure as hell did too drop that attitude and make some friends for a change” he said an lowered his voice ”That’s the only way you’re going to survive these days” he almost whispered; I think I wasn’t supposed to hear that. He looked dreamy away in some kind of sorrow. I left the room as the silence again became uncomfortable, I wanted to say something but I couldn’t find the words.

Some hours later…

I walked into the big kitchen and glared around. Knifes…Knifes…knifes where are you? I really needed a weapon and I didn’t care what kind of weapon, a knife will do it. I just didn’t like to feel defenceless.

I opened the kitchen drawers, nothing, but then I finally found one on a shrink. I stuck it in my belt and covered it with my top, then walked out again and followed the hallway. I stopped at the bathrooms and walked inside. Seeing myself in the mirror scared me. My brown hair was messy and not very clean, my skin had a layer of dirt and my hands were covered with cuts and bruises. I washed my hands and studied myself in the mirror, maybe I should cut my hair? No I’ll just make a braid. I did it, left the room and went into the big living room again where the darkness filled the room through the window. I saw a shadow sitting on a chair in the dark and quickly turned around to walk the other direction, I didn’t felt like communicating right now, but the shadow saw me and now it walked after me.

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