Bisected Amber

I ran through the woods, clutching my shoulder.

"How could this have happened?" I thought to myself.

I could feel the pain of the bite seeping deeper into my flesh as I trekked on towards the light. The light was from a small house just outside the forest.

"I have to make it," I told myself, speaking over the mangled moans and pants from my pursuer. He was gaining more and more speed.

This can't be the end for me...


3. Chapter 3 - Transformation

Kaitlin, what are you doing? Don't get near her!


I faded in and out of consciousness. Blurring images of people weaving between blackness.


Just look at her! Can't you see that she isn't dying?


"I'm dying?" my voice sounded foreign and distanced, "But I don't want to die."


I don't want to die.... 


A guttural scream clawed at the back of my throat, a burning sensation wrapping round my neck. A pulsing pain pumped throughout my skull, invading my cerebrum. My wound felt like the tips of razor blades digging deep into sensitive skin. I tried to move my arms and legs, only to find myself at a loss of control; they were bound tightly to my sides. I writhed in agony, the searing pain only increasing as time went on.

"Make it stop!" a barbaric screech, my voice, filled the room. "Make it stop!"


She's being to loud! The dead will hear us!

Then shut her up will you?


Red clouded the edges of my vision. Someone was moving towards me.


Don't hurt her. Stop--


Blackness. Again.






I was awoken by a pulsating throb in my skull and the dryness of thirst on my tongue.


Where am I?


The room was lit by a dim light overhead; only giving off enough light for me to tell that I was in the room alone, and only the barest of furnishings decorated it. My arms were still to my sides, the circulation probably siphoned long ago. I try to tug one free, but my arm begins to hurt with the odd angle it's in. I tried again, only to feel my muscles protest. I lain my head back on the bed, not even a pillow to lay it on.

"This is hopeless," I spit to myself.


Why am I even here?


I turned my head, I noticed there was a mirror and--

"Ahh!" I screamed, wriggling in my restraints. In the mirror, I saw my own face... adorned with a single, glowing, amber eye.

"This can't be real. This isn't happening!" I said more to the reflection rather than myself.

"Did you hear that?" I hear a faint, female voice from the other side of the door.

"Do you think it woke up?"

"Only one way to tell," I recognize Logan's gruff tone.


They just called it.


"I am a person. Not a thing."


But...but didn't I do the same thing to Justin?


The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Although I had heard many voices in the hall, the only person standing there was Logan.

"So you are awake," his low voice rumbled in the enclosed room.

"How long have I been out?"

"About three days. An ugly transformation you had. Worse than any other I've seen."

"Transformation? I haven't turned into anything! I'm still me!"

"Not with that!" he pointed to my eye, "You're one of them now. The Infected. It's only a matter of time before you murder us all."

"But I don't want to kill you!" I could hear my voice rising above his. "I'm still human! How else am I able to speak with you right now?"

"I don't know how you've done it! Maybe they're evolving; adapting to make it easier to destroy us! All I know for sure is that with that eye, you're dangerous. You're infected, and probably not even alive!"

"How can you say that?" I replied after a moment.

"Like this," he withdrew a knife from his pocket. Even in the dim light, I could see it's malicious glint.

I tried wriggling away from him, but it was a pointless effort; I was immobile. He came closer and closer, the blade of his knife seeming longer and more deadly with each step.

"What are you doing?" my voice was a whisper.

"I'm going to prove that you can't die."

"You'll kill me!" I screamed.

"You can't kill what has already died." With that, he dug the knife into my chest just around my heart, as if drawing on my skin with the blade. Each stroke of is tool sent shocks of indescribable pain throughout my body, locking up my chest and vacuuming the air from my lungs.

"Stop!" I cried, feeling my bones pop as I attempted to free them.

"Please!" crying again, I felt my wrist twist and break painfully as I tore it from the bonds. "Stop!"

My free hand swatted at him, connecting with his left eye. His weapon fumbled from his hand and fell next to mine. My vision was darkening with increasing blood loss, my head was heavy and jumbled. I couldn't even manage to get a handle of the knife. Not that it mattered because I could no longer find Logan in the room.  I looked down to the blood spilling from my chest, the wounds fairly deep. Wiping away the blood with my shirt, I could finally see what he had done. He had written in a sloppy script:

p ɐ ǝ p


Does that say....


That was the last thing I saw before blacking out once again.

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