Day 20
I’ve been driving aimlessly for so many days, it’s hard to feel any more aimless, but somehow, I do.
I don’t want to keep going anymore. I’m tired—exhausted, more accurately—and lonely. So fucking lonely. I’ve never been the most social person, but I’d kill for someone to talk to right now.
But there isn’t anyone. I’m alone, and the finality of it makes me hit the brakes, tears brimming in my eyes.
I could die right now and no one would ever know.
I think about my mom and my dad. My friends. My sisters.
Maybe this is just a dream. Maybe I need to wake myself up.
I already know pinching won’t help, but maybe I need something stronger than a pinch. I lower my blurry gaze to my right.
My knife is right there on the seat next to me, staring innocently back.
I grab it, my fingers circling the handle, and look out the windshield, blinking my tears away. I know how to angle it so it’ll be effective. Maybe I won’t even feel the pain.
And then I see it.
Laying on the road, just ahead of me—
No. It can’t be.
My mind is just playing tricks on me, trying to save itself from the knife that’s about to pierce my ribcage.
But it looks like—
Please, brain, don’t fuck with me, I beg, my heart hammering against the tip of the blade.
It could be a mannequin. I try not to get my hopes up. Just get closer and take a look.
But why would a mannequin be spread out in the middle of the road?
I drive slowly, pulling to a stop at what feels like a safe distance from the could-be-mannequin, maybe-a-person. I mean, it looks like a person.
I kill the engine and slam the door shut behind me, making my way to him—at least, I think it’s a him, judging by the way the black tactical gear fits his body.
There’s a rifle at his side, combat boots on his feet, and as I step closer, I notice his cropped light-blond hair, so bright it’s almost white in the sunlight.
He’s motionless, but I still hold onto my knife nervously as I approach. Is he… dead?
Despair fills me at that notion, and I find myself begging that he isn’t. Even if everyone else is dead, there were no bodies, so this guy—he had to have been here all this time, right? Even if he is dead, he must’ve been here all along with me, for his body to be left behind.
I kneel next to him, my gaze roaming him for any visible injuries. It doesn’t look like he’s bleeding, but I can’t tell for sure and I don’t know if I have the guts to touch him to check for a pulse. Maybe I can just get close enough to see if he’s breathing—
A click echoes in the silence.
Then, there’s something cold and metallic against my throat.
I look down at his face, swallowing against the muzzle of the rifle that pushes into my neck, and icy blue eyes glower right back.
“Give me one good reason not to blow your fucking head off.”