Abandon
I bolt upright in bed, my breath catching in my throat. The air feels heavier tonight- thick with something unseen yet somehow suffocating, invading my lungs like smoke.
Through the small window in the hut, the moon hangs high in a sea of deep blue, its pale glow scattering across the twinkling stars. Everything looks untouched. Peaceful. But the silence doesn’t comfort me, rather unsettles.
And then I hear it.
A low, guttural moan fractures the stillness, crawling through the night like a whisper of death. My pulse kicks into a sprint, adrenaline surging through my veins. In a heartbeat, I’m on my feet, reaching for my baby brother across the room. Hudson barely stirs as I wrap him in blankets, securing him against my chest. He is blissfully unaware of the danger that lies ahead of us.
Finn. I need to wake up Finn.
I shake his shoulder, whispering his name with urgency. He’s always been a deep sleeper- never noticing when I climb in and out of the bed we share in this shoebox of a room. The moans grow louder, more urgent, and the pressure slams down on me like a collapsing wall. Father prepared me for this. As the eldest, I was taught what to do, where to go. How to survive.
But knowing and doing are two different beasts. And reality is far heavier than imagined burdens.
With Finn’s small hand clutched in mine, I navigate the hut in near-blindness, every step pulling us closer to the hidden doorway- the underground shelter Father built when he and Mother first found this abandoned home. My free hand fumbles for the latch, fingers shaking as they coax it loose, my hands beginning to become clammy in my nervousness. Finally, I am able to free the latch and the wooden door opens with a thundering slam against the wooden floor below.
“Finnie,” I murmur, my voice thin, shaking. He blinks up at me, his wide brown eyes pleading for reassurance, sucking on his thumb dutifully. I almost break down at the sight, but am somehow able to keep myself together. Right now I need to be strong.
“You go first,” I whisper, nodding toward the ladder. He hesitates, but after a beat, he obeys- his small body disappearing into the darkness below. Adjusting Hudson against me, I follow, the scent of damp earth curling into my nose as I descend down, down, down, deeper into the darkness.
I’m halfway down when the screams tear through the air, slicing through the stillness like a knife.
Not just any screams. Her screams.
Everything Father taught me, every survival instinct ingrained in my bones- none of it matters now. Because she’s out there. And she’s hurt.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve scrambled back to the opening, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, one hand clutching Hudson still wrapped against my body. My head pokes above the surface, and the world lurches as my eyes lock onto her.
Mother.
Her body lies twisted at an unnatural angle, a pool of blood expanding like a dark halo around her. The copper tang thickens in the air, suffocating. The Necrovore crouches over her, its rotted fingers burrowing deep into her flesh. Intestines spill like unraveling threads, its jaw working methodically, tearing, consuming.
Her lips tremble, desperate to form words she no longer has the strength to voice. But she is still alive enough to know. She can feel the tearing of her flesh. There are tears in her emerald eyes, glistening on her cheek, sliding down her nose from the angle her body was forced into. Mother is begging me for help with her eyes.
And I do nothing.
The clacking of teeth, the wet, visceral sound of ripping flesh- it paralyzes me. She sees me. Even in death’s grip, she sees me. All of the years she spent selflessly protecting me from harm’s way, and I am paralyzed with fear when she needs me the most.
I open my mouth as if to say something, anything to distract the Necrovore from Mother, just long enough for her to maybe slip away to safety.
Then the door slams shut above me, plunging me into darkness and crushing any last hope of saving her. The Necrovore feasts. Mother fades. And I am locked in darkness.
