{Revised 10/25/2025}
Year 3392 Feb 7
Seven days before the outbreak
"Lee Everett," the judge called out, his tone devoid of anything but law and judgment, "for the crime of manslaughter, you have been brought before me to be judged, tried, and sentenced; how do you plead in the face of such... accusation?" He finished, already knowing that the charges were more than just 'Accusations'.
However, none of that mattered right now, not the scorn, fear, or hatred, because I had already accepted my fate the moment my fist took the life of another.
With a frown, I spoke. "...Guilty, your honor."
The judge looked at me with eyes of consideration and what looked to be a spec of pity, before passing his judgment, a tired sigh going unnoticed by everyone but me.
"Very well," he continued, "I declare Lee Everett guilty of all accusations and subsequent murder of xxx; you are to be sentenced to xxx years in prison. Case dismissed."
And with the final strike of the judge's hammer, things were set in stone, and I was to be transported to my new... 'Home' sometime tomorrow.
I didn't pay attention to the jury leaving, nor to the multitude of other people I had no connection to; no, my mind was lost in the depths of my own thoughts, leaving me to wander and reflect on everything I had done in my life that led me to this very moment in time.
However, even that piece of mind was ripped away from me as I was pulled up by my cuffed hands, the metal of which bit into my flesh, eliciting a grunt of pain from my throat.
The officer who had done this said nothing as he mindlessly led me to a cell, from which he threw me in with no regard to my dismay, nor the dripping blood falling out from underneath the cuffs.
I stayed silent as he left, too tired from today's trial to even care at this point.
Glancing out of the only barred window in the room, I sighed before closing my eyes and letting myself fall asleep, unwilling to face the day any longer than I had already.
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Year 3392 Feb 14
Four hours before the outbreak
"And with that, the trial concludes, leaving the victim with justice, and the killer a cell to rot in; but is that really all there is to it? Le-"
With a flick of my unoccupied hand, the radio was cut, leaving the biggest court case since May of last year, unconcluded in my mind.
I didn't really care who did what, but I wanted something to listen to while I made my way home, and while I could recall of few things on the case, it all basically went in one ear and out the other.
Though I had to admit, the thing that stuck with me the most had to be the fact that the crime the man committed was done with his bare hands; it wasn't easy to break a bone, so to be able to cave someone's skull in with a few punches was nothing short of spine-chilling and badass.
Chuckling, I pushed the case out of my mind and focused on the road, though it seemed to be just a bit too late, as I only saw the board on the road for a second before the telltale sign of gushing air made itself known.
Groaning, I shifted gears before eventually pulling over to the side of the road, my pickup coming to a slow stop as it was put in park.
Unfastening my seatbelt and stepping out made it abundantly clear that my tire had indeed been popped, and the thing that had done the deed was still attached, its form hanging off the side of the deflated wheel.
Clicking my teeth, I pulled the plank off the tire and threw it toward the back of my truck, its wooden form bouncing once or twice before coming to a stop a few feet away from the truck's tailgate.
Crouching, I surveyed the damage while holding back a groan.
The nails in the board had gone too deep to patch up quickly, so that only left a full change.
My head fell slightly, "God damn it."
With great trepidation, I made my way around the back before unlatching the tail gate, the immediate sight of bundles of wire and random tools filling my view, though it's a good thing that the two tools I needed were in pretty close proximity to one another.
Grunting, I hauled myself up onto the bed, aided by the truck's bumper, aiming to spot the spare that I swore I threw in here a few months ago.
After doing a little digging in the piles of wire, I eventually found what I was looking for: a spare tire.
Grinning, I whispered to no one, "There you are, beauty. "
Pulling it out of its wirey grave, I dragged it to the edge of the tailgate, before doing the same for the tire iron and jack.
With the essentials found and moved, I jumped down, silently complaining about how my knees were going to go bad at this rate.
But, before I could pull anything off the tailgate, the faint sound of my phone going off had me swiveling on my aim, before eventually leading me to the driver's side as I reached in to grab the device responsible.
"What do we have here?" I said, my eyes finding the few missed texts and a call in my notifications.
Upon clicking the texts, I found a smile dancing its way onto my face, as the most random questions in the world were typed out without pause.
I chuckled, "Duck, how in the world did you get your mother's phone?"
There was no response as expected.
Moving on to the missed call, my smile became just a bit more gentle.
Clicking the notification had my phone ringing as it waited for the other end to pick up, if at all.
Not long after, there was a soft click followed by a serene voice, "Kenneth?"
The smile never left my face as I spoke.
"Katja."
There was a faint noise on the other end as Katja took a moment to respond.
"Took you long enough."
I chuckled while rubbing the back of my head, my gaze rising to the sky as I tried to apologize.
"Ya, sorry about that, Kat, I was a bit bored, so I threw on the radio while driving over; you know how it can be when driving from one state to another."
Katja giggled.
"It's alright, Kenny, we've both been there at one point, so I can understand the sentiment."
"Ya," I sighed, "it's not the most action-packed ride, that's for sure, but still, I'm sorry I missed your call; did you need something?"
She hummed, in both denial and affirmation.
"Kinda, I just wanted to make sure you were ok and all that, with what's been going on around the states lately... I worry."
My brows pinched as I questioned further.
"What do you mean?"
She sighed, exhaustion teetering on the edge.
"There have been some reports lately, and even video evidence of people going ballistic and attacking others like a hungry animal, literally; I even saw a video of someone recording one of them canibalizing a dog."
She couldn't hide her exhaustion this time.
"It's got me... afraid, afraid that something like that was happening to you or someone in my family... and the feeling only gets worse the more videos people post; hell, even some of the major news outlets are taking a dip into the scene," she paused, "not all of them came back though."
This news was shocking and somewhat horrifying. The thought of someone actually doing that honestly made my gut churn in disgust and fear; if I wasn't worried then, I was now.
"Ok, Kat, I'm about thirty minutes out, if not a bit longer with this flat, but I promise, once I get there, it'll just be us, no town, and no people; just me, you, and Duck."
She sighed with what sounded like a smile.
"Alright, Kenny, I'll hold you to that, but be careful, you never know what could happen in such a short time."
I nodded while humming.
"I will, Kat, and you do the same; I love you."
She huffed.
"I love you too, silly man."
The line went dead seconds after, leaving just me, myself, and a flat tire...
"Shit, why the fuck do I have to deal with this?" I said while mourning the wasted time this would cause.
With one final look at the almost setting sun, I sighed.
'I should have gone with airless.'
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Two hours until the outbreak
"Clementine!" a voice echoed, "Come down, dear, it's time to eat!"
I hummed quietly before realizing she probably couldn't hear that.
"Ok, Ms. Sandra! I'll be down in a moment!" I called back, morphing my hum into words.
"Alright, but be quick about it; we wouldn't want the food to get cold!"
After a moment of fumbling with my hand, I managed to snag the 'Red' crayon from the pile of others, its waxy form gliding smoothly over my sheet of paper as I guided it as best as I could.
A moment later, and I had completely filled in my drawing, its form filled in with the most bizarre and contrasting colors one would have ever seen, but to me, it was like looking at the reimagining of art itself.
My feet kicked out in delight as a gape of pride filled my chest; I had only slipped over the line once, just one small hill outside of the pincle lines, however, I didn't care, no one ever cared, because as long as I tried my best, mommy and daddy would be happy.
With a flushed smile, I scrambled to put away my things, stashing most in a corner while leaving the rest where it was, after which, I made my way down the tree house's ladder, eager for something to eat after all the hard work I put into the picture.
I bolted for the door as soon as my little legs met the ground, impatient with the idea of stalling any longer than necessary. But when I got to the porch, an odd pulling sensation had me glancing back at my tree house, the sudden curiosity leading me to catch a glimpse of something painted brightly in green, as if a jewel had come to life with fluttering wings.
Yet, even as I stared at the window it vanished into, hunger inevitably overpowered my will for discovery, leaving me determined to investigate after I had something to eat.
Shuffling up to the glass door, I used a great deal of effort to slide it open before stepping inside; I left the door cracked behind me so I didn't have to open it again, but I did make sure it was only small enough for me; you never know when a stray would show up.
Looking around, I called out, curious as to where my sitter was.
"Ms. Sandra?"
There was a slight shuffle in the kitchen before the golden-haired visage of Ms. Sandra peeked around the corner.
"Yes, Clementine?" She questioned, her blue eyes just as curious as mine.
I smiled, a bit more bashful than usual.
"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see where you were, sorry."
She grinned softly before stepping out of the kitchen, her steps taking her to my side as she crouched.
"It's alright, Clementine, but do me a favor," she pinched my cheek lightly as she played with my face, "go wash up, would you? We don't want the food to taste like crayons again, now do we?"
She jabbed playfully, hinting at a mistake I made over five days ago; I could still taste the color yellow, and it was icky.
Shivering slightly, I bashfully pulled away from her hold before turning on my heel.
"OK, ok, crayons don't taste good anyway."
There was a soft giggle behind me as I dipped into the bathroom, a stool already waiting for me by the sink.
Hopping up, I smothered my hands in soap before scrubbing them together furiously, only remembering to turn on the water afterward; however, I didn't care, and turned it on with a bubble-covered palm, after which, I quickly shoved my hands under the running water to rinse them off, though I was very quick with it, as the knob I turned was the hot water, so it was race against time.
Either I would finish, or I'd be burned.
The second option really burned, and made my hands throb when it happened.
Luckily, I was faster than it, and just as the water warmed up, my hands had left the current, leaving me with a triumphant grin as I shut off the tap.
Hoping down, I all but ran my way back to the dining room, unbothered by my still-wet hands, and eager to eat something that wasn't air, or at least that's what daddy thinks; though I don't think you can actually eat air, I've tried, but when I do, there's nothing there.
Which is weird, because I see Dad eat air all the time; his cheeks puff up and everything.
I shook my head, and a smile appeared over my considerate face.
'Oh well, tacos are better anyway.'
Marching up to the table, I ploped down on a chair and waited, my patience holding up surprisingly well considering they had been faltering so fast outside, but oh well, as long as I got food, I was willing to wait as long as needed... or as long as a few minutes anyway.
My ideology was soon rewarded in droves, with Ms. Sandra appearing almost out of nowhere and setting down a plate in front of me, the contents of which held two tacos.
With a grin, I wasted no time in snatching one up, only to be quickly reminded that Ms. Sandra was a stickler for manners.
"Now, Clementine, remember your manners," Ms. Sandra said, a tiny grin dashing her lips.
I nodded shyly before slowly beginning to eat my food, a bit embarrassed about being called out.
Ms. Sandra quietly chuckled before beginning to eat herself, her portion just a bit bigger than mine.
Dinner affairs were quiet, sound, and contentful, leaving me with a grin after all was said and done.
With haste, Ms. Sandra swiped my empty plate before hurrying back into the kitchen, seemingly noticing how late it was and how long until I was supposed to be in bed.
She called out to me before turning on the water.
"Clementine, you have a little bit before your bedtime, so be back inside before then, okay?"
My eyes widened at the statement, a bit surprised that she could tell what I wanted to do.
Shaking my head with a silly smile, I called out behind me, my form already stepping out the back door.
"Thank you, Ms. Sandra! I'll be back in a little bit!"
There was a faint laugh from behind me, but I was too excited to notice properly; an investigation was to be had, one that involved a green, glowing butterfly. 'How exciting!'
Quickly scurrying up my treehouse ladder, I burst into the small area, excitement filling my gaze in its entirety.
My eyes darted from one end of the small room to the other, almost desperately looking for any sign of that pretty butterfly, its green hues vivid in my mind.
It didn't take long for my eyes to cross paths with it, leaving me in a small, awed silence as I traced the mesmerizing patterns on its glowing wings, silently gushing about how beautiful it looked, its own form calmly seated on the only window in the wooden box that was my personal safe spot.
With a child's curiosity and lack of self-preservation, I stuttered up to it, my footsteps being as slow and as silent as I could make them, for I didn't want to scare off such a cute and shiny butterfly.
However, even when my clumsy attempt at being deathly quiet faltered, it showed no signs of flapping its wings and taking off; no, it seemed to have also taken an interest in me, with its entire body turning to face me in what looked to be its own curiosity, or so my mind childishly thought.
When I was but a step away, I stopped, suddenly unsure if this was okay or if my getting too close would finally give it the signal to leave, leaving me to myself and my burning curiosity.
However, this didn't seem to matter to the small emerald, as with a flap of its wings, it was gliding up to me, its form gently bouncing up and down to keep itself flush with my gaze.
With wide, Amber eyes, my gaze watched as the glittering creature landed on my open palm, the form of which had come up instinctively while I was focusing on the delicate creature.
Its wings slowed down after, their paper-thin visages slowing to a crawl as the antana on its head gently swayed in the almost non-existent breeze coming from the window behind it; the sight was ethereal, in a way, almost as if a ghost was the thing in my palm.
But that detail didn't stop the thousand-watt smile from beaming from my lips.
The emerald flapped its wings with vigor in return, its form swaying just a bit as it almost took off.
I giggled at the little mishap.
"Careful now, we wouldn't want you to fall," I whispered playfully.
The butterfly, seemingly understanding my words, slowed its wings back down to a crawl before going docile again, though it wasn't like I minded.
Seeing as it wasn't planning to fly off any time soon, I slowly sat myself against the wall to the left of the window, my form becoming relaxed, as I started talking about my day and the things I had done with it.
It was comforting to do so, and since Mr. Butterfly didn't seem to mind, I kept talking, going back day by day and telling him things that I'd usually tell Mom or Dad, or even Ms. Sandra.
I sighed after reciting another tale of a past day, my form becoming somewhat somber as I tried to recall the last time I had actually done so with anyone other than my own thoughts, only to realize I hadn't actually spoken to anyone about my days in a while, even before Mom and Dad left.
My bright mood grew dimmer at the realization, leaving me silent as things returned to the empty quiet they had been before I had started prattling on about what I had done on certain days.
Childishly, tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, saddened by the fact that I hadn't really been talking to anyone but myself for the past few weeks; school didn't help with that either, as the other kids always said I talked too much.
I chuckled bitterly, "What do you think, Mr. Butterfly, do you think I talk too much?"
There was no response, though that was to be expected given the fact that I didn't think butterflies, even as pretty as this one, could talk.
Sighing, I rebuilt my smile, unwilling to let go of my optimism even when I was the one actively breaking it down.
"Well, Mr. Butterfly, since you're still here, maybe you don't mind me talking so much."
The emerald wings on its back glistened under the moon's glow as the speed of its sways increased, seemingly mimicking approval.
My smile grew just a bit softer at the sight.
"See, I knew it, you're the best Butterfly ever."
Silence grew not long after, my form once again failing to uphold the broken veil of silence in my flurry of jumbled thoughts.
"Clem!" Ms. Sandra's voice echoed.
Jumping in place just a bit, I quickly recalled that I was still on that time limit.
"Yes, Ms Sandra?" I called back, my form having somewhat crawled over to the treehouse door.
There was but a second pause before Ms. Sandra responded, "It's time for bed, sweety."
A bit miffed, but unwilling to break bedtime, I called back, still somewhat reluctantly, "Ok, I'll be down in a moment!"
"Alright, dear, but don't be too long, you have school in the morning," she called back.
Frowning at the reminder, I looked back toward the emerald in my open palm, its form seemingly unperturbed by my sudden movement toward the door.
Getting up, I walked back to the window and set him down, reluctance tightening my every move by the second; the first real friend I had made, and I had to let them go already.
My teeth clenched.
'Maybe I'd have more friends if I wasn't me...'
I shook my head vigorously; there was no point in thinking that, as it was an impossible question to answer.
Turning around, I made my way to the door, only to stop just before, my amber gaze looking back for a short second.
"Goodnight, Mr. Butterfly," I said, my teeth still somewhat clenched.
'Goodnight, Clementine.'
My head whipped around in shock as my eyes darted around for the sudden addition of the new voice, but all I found was Mr. Butterfly perched in the top left corner of the treehouse, seemingly settling in for the night.
After a moment, I shook my head of the conjured delusion, thinking it was just my mind playing tricks on me, all the while I remained unaware of the ethereal emerald eyes watching me as I descended the ladder.
'Goodnight, Clementine.'
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Ten minutes before the encounter
"Goodnight, Clementine," I said, while pecking the young girl on the cheek.
"Goodnight, Ms. Sandra," the girl replied in turn, seemingly miffed by the fact that she had to go to sleep; it was a cute sight.
With one last glance back, I closed the door behind me, leaving Clem to her dreams and me to my chores.
However, before I got to that, I put something on for myself, unwilling to let myself stew in silence, a concept I was far too afraid of.
Nine minutes before the encounter
Yet another day of taking care of what would be best described as an angel, one that was likely from the softest clouds in heaven.
She was really something, that girl.
Had she not been so forward about herself and her unique personality, I would have thought she was conditioned that way by her parents, a sight I've seen far too many times in other children.
It never really went that way, and the couples I've seen attempt that usually end up with a depressed or rebellious child who wouldn't care enough or would actively defy anything they said.
Eight minutes before the encounter
It's interesting, really; in the past, I took this job because of the pay her parents were willing to pay, but now, now I'm just doing it for Clem.
It felt nice being something akin to an older sister, and while I was still getting paid for this, if given the choice again, I'd do this for free, that notion was helped by the fact I kinda felt like I was cheating them out of their money, because with Clem being the angel she was, this was basically a really long and bountiful paid vacation.
Seven minutes before the encounter
I hummed a small, mindless tune as my hands buried themselves in bubbly water, reaching for a few silverware that lay hidden under the layer of bubbles, only to be seen through the occasional gaps in the surface.
When all was said and done, the water was drained, and the dishes were dried and put away.
Looking over, I sighed.
"Now that just leaves the trash."
Three minutes before the encounter
After gliding around the house and gathering all the trash I could see, I stuffed it in the trash before tying it up, leaving me to slip on some slides to journey outside.
The afair was supposed to be lackluster... but it wasn't.
Encounter
Taking the trash out was easy, and while taking the trash cans down to the curb was a bit more tiring, it was nothing that I couldn't handle.
Sighing, I wiped my forehead of the beads of sweat before glancing around, my form surrounded by the one thing I hated the most, silence.
With a chill, I began making my way back to the front door, only to be interrupted by what sounded like a groan coming from the neighbor's yard, its open grassy flat withheld from my view by ever-growing bushes on the other side of the fence.
Curious, I made my way over, all the while ignoring the growing pit of fear pooling in my gut; I prided myself on being brave in the face of danger after all.
When I got to the fence, I lightly let myself lean on it, going silent to listen for the groan I had heard a second ago.
After a moment, the bush in front of me rustled, and twigs on its branches snapped, seemingly failing to uphold the weight put on it.
I silently cautioned myself to step back, but foolish curiosity held me in place, leaving me with no time to fall away from the person who lunged out at me, their teeth sinking deep into my flesh as shock overtook my system.
After a second, my brain kicked back up, and I was left with a short scream that was cut off by my adrenaline-filled shove, heaving the man who bit me off with a large, disgusting chunk of my flesh, which he horribly began to chew on while scrambling over the fence.
As I turned and ran, I heard the thud of the thing falling over the wire fence, but I paid it little heed as I burst back into the house and locked the door behind me, groaning in pain as silent sobs began to fill my throat, the pain kicking back in as my adrenaline was booted from my system.
I tried to reach for the landline phone, but was rewarded with toppling agony as my form tumbled to the floor, clutching my shoulder in a desperate attempt to stem the blood gushing out of the gaping pit that used to be a part of my shoulder.
I cried harder at the thought, because even if I didn't want to acknowledge it, I knew it had likely torn out a part of my SCV, and it wouldn't be long before I died of blood loss.
My thoughts were silenced when the distinct sound of Clementine's door being opened made it to me.
With a pitying look, I turned my head from the collapsed position I had on the floor, finding a young and terrified-looking girl staring back at me with growing fear and revulsion; it must have been the blood.
With a weak and ever-weakening smile, I spoke.
"Cle-Clementine, dear... What are you doing out of bed?"
My speech was slurring, and I felt so tired; maybe a nap would do me some good...
"Ms. Sandra? A-are you o-okay?"
I didn't answer, and instead asked a simple question.
"Clem... Clementine... D-do you want to play... A game?" I smiled; however, it didn't reach my lips as I hoped, but at least I got the question out.
"N-no," she said, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
My vision blurred, and darkness took me for just a second, its alluring warmth offering me some alleviation from my pain, but I chose to hold onto what I had left, just for a moment.
"Let's... Play Hide... Hide and seek... Clementine..." I put up a weak grin before barely managing to continue, "I-I'll... I'll be the... The Seeker... you can... You can be the Hider... Okay...?"
I could barely hear Clementine's open sobs at this point, but the prominent banging on the front door was still notable to me, so I pushed on, using everything I had for just a few more words, just a few more.
"Go... Clementine... Go hide..." My eyes grew heavy, "I'll find you..." I whispered, "I... I..."
I didn't get to finish as everything grew cold, but I didn't really care... I was so, so very tired. Who knew darkness could be so warm...
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Year 3392Feb 15
One Day Alone
My eyes were dull as they stared out the window of my tree house, the Amber orbs within finding the blue sky more despairing than comforting by the hour, with only the occasional cloud to break the spiraling trance I had myself locked in.
The tears didn't seem to dry, no matter how many I shed, so it wasn't too surprising when they prickled at the edges of my vision once again, their salty forms irritating my already rough cheeks.
I tried to wipe them away, to get them contained, to do something to halt the horrifying memories creeping up on me, but when I closed my eyes, all I could see was red; my body shivered, and a sobbing hiccup clawed its way out of my throat.
'There was so much of it... so much...'
The thought had even heavier tears sliding down, their forms sinking into the already soaked dress I wore.
My hands clutched at my head while my shoulders shook, failing to hold back the fears my heart bore, the terror it fabricated, and the dreams it made; my own mind and body were my own worst enemies.
And what could I do? Nothing; I could do nothing but cry, hoping they would just go away.
My lips thinned as my eyes peered past the black void they were in, while hidden behind my eyelids, however, what met them wasn't the deceiving sky but the gem with wings I had met earlier, its emerald hue outweighing the sun's rays and filling in the small wooden box I called safety, with a green calming glow, one that made my eyes heavey with the sleep I lacked.
My body began to sag into comfort, the longer I sat there, almost lulling me into dreams; however, I wasn't ready for that, I wasn't brave enough to see what my mind was going to conjure, so my sickly white arms pushed my body up, the color once occupying my skin washed away by a sickening fear.
It was like I had turned into a corpse.
The sudden and unexpected thought churned my gut with severe unease, so much so that a moment later, vomit, which felt more akin to acid, filled my mouth and left me disgusted.
The feeling only worsened when I forced my stomach's contents back down my throat, leaving me in a gagging and weeping mess, snot and hot tears mixing into one on my lips, nearly kickstarting another bout of vomit as the taste continued to make my gut churn even after the red memories faded into the background.
I wanted to scream, to shout all of my fears into the air, but that fear had me in an understanding vice, so I could do nothing but hold it in and drown it in itself.
There was a short pause in the soft breeze blowing through the window, one that was taken advantage of by the flying gem that had all but left my mind, the turmoil of which had me locked in a spiraling chokehold I could barely hold in.
When it landed on my hunched shoulder, I was understandably frightened, so much so that terror had forced me to my feet while making me see double of everything around me, but ignoring that, my head whipped to my shoulder with wide fearful ambers, nasiae forcing my body to stumble and sway.
However, the terror I felt vanished when I saw the bright colored wings of Mr. Butterfly flapping hastily; I didn't pay much attention to the fact that I had fallen on my side at some point, as I was just too exhausted to care, even when I could feel the bruise forming on the shoulder that took the brunt of said fall.
My breathing slowed as my eyes stayed locked onto the shining visage of emerald, its form forcing me into a lull, one that was quick to shut down my body and let it rest, the abuse it had taken too much to put up a fight against something it was desperate for.
The last thing I saw before my mind followed was the ethereal form of a man standing at the doorway.
His eyes were like cracked emeralds, and his hair was as dark as the void I saw when I closed my eyes, a sharp contrast to the deathly pale skin he wore. And to tie it all together, he wore a green kimono with three striking red lines running from his left hip up to his right shoulder; these lines also bore gold at the edges, the embroidery forcing the lines to stand out far more than they would have if left alone.
What drew the last bit of my consciousness's attention was the circlet-like crown sitting softly on his head, its emerald form bearing so many cracks and missing chunks that it was hard to even call it anything.
'Are those chunks, floating?'
Consciousness left me shortly after the thought, leaving only the visage of the man to watch over me, his gentle gaze offering the comfort I didn't know I needed.
The man's natural face soon grew a frown as he walked over and knelt next to the little girl, his palm reaching up as he brushed some hair out of her face.
"My sympathies, Clemenetine," he spoke, before his transparent form vanished, leaving only the flapping emerald butterfly in his wake.
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Planet Zero
A being in a deep slumber frowned, his face and mind remaining impassive as the fragment of his power tried to stir something; how long would he be able to sleep before he woke himself up?
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Freedom?
Gazing out the window, I mindlessly watched as cars, trees, and a large number of hikers flew by, their forms vanishing behind me as they enjoyed the freedom I couldn't while sitting in the back of the cop car that was hauling me to my new 'Home'.
But what could I do? I made my bed, and I had to lie in it, whether I liked it or not.
"I reckon, you didn't do it."
My thoughts were pulled from the abyss that was my mind by the words of my driver, his aged face crinkled with time and experience.
"Do what?" I asked, confused as to what he was talking about.
"Kill him, I reckon you didn't do it."
I looked at him like he was stupid because, yes, I did kill him; I was there and the one who did it.
He seemed to get the message when he glanced at the mirror and quickly went to correct himself.
"I mean, without a reason, you didn't kill him without a reason."
One of my eyebrows rose, but I decided to humor the man; he didn't seem like a bad guy.
"There was certainly a reason, just one I'm not willing to share, and no offense, especially not with you; don't really feel like telling my stories to strangers and all that."
The old guy just chuckled before speaking again.
"None, taken, and I'd do the same thing if I were in your shoes, though it would likely be with a lot more anger than you; I wasn't always this, sudated."
I huffed lightly heartedly, satisfied that I didn't piss off another cop for just keeping to myself.
"But you know, you're never going to get better if you don't talk to someone; things like that, they don't leave, nor will they ever leave you; it's like a thorn that will always stay buried in your flesh, and while it may be healed over, it will still be there, causing problems that would been negligable otherwise."
He huffed.
"People like to say they don't need help or they'll be fine, but the truth is, without others to be there and to listen to them, they'll inevitably be consumed by their own thoughts, guilt, and the what-ifs, so just keep this in mind while you're doing the time, think of talking to someone about it, it dosn't even have to be human, just tell a dog, a random street cat, or the birds' they may not understand nor care, but they're still there, they can still listen; and that helps, it helps a lot more than you might think."
I was honestly stunned, and it showed too, as my eyes were wide, with my lips in a thin line as I contemplated the complications and implications his words could mean.
He didn't seem to mind my silence, and I was grateful for it, as it really gave me a moment to think, to ponder on the 'what ifs' as he said, though it was a shame I didn't get to think on it for long.
For only a second, just for a moment, the cop turned back to me, and I was the only powerless one to notice the person who had walked out of the forest and into the road, stumbling directly into the path of the cop car we were in.
My brain was stun locked, and I only managed to get a warning out moments too late.
"THE ROAD!"
The old man's head whipped back around his own aged gray eyes, barely noticing the person ahead after it was too late.
The wheels of the car screeched as we swerved, failing to avoid the person, while also sending us careening off the road and into the forest the person had stumbled out of moments before.
Darkness overtook me mere seconds after, and all I could hear before I fully left the conscious world was the screams of the old man, his frantic shouts doing nothing to halt my descent.
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I drifted back and forth a few times, but the one that really stuck out to me was the one with more screaming.
".....SOMEONE HEL...PLEAS.....I DON'T WANT TO D....AHHHHHH!.....GET OFF!... GET O...GGRRGL....."
Things went silent a moment later, and the pounding headache forced me back into unconsciousness.
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The first thing that came to my attention when I eventually regained conscious control was the glaring pain in my thigh, its form drawing agony from every twitch and jerk.
My blurred vision trailed down my leg as I groaned in an effort to sit up; fortunately or not, I was left unable to, having been halted by the realization that everything was upside down, with the seat I had been sitting in what felt like moments prior, now perched comfortably above me, and the roof underfoot, its barely padded form creaking undeer my weight as I tried to shift myelf.
'What the fuck happened?' I thought while squinting my eyes, my blurred peripheral vision letting up under my adjusting pupils.
As I came back into focus, I noticed the car had been flipped over, and the driver was missing. That realization had me recall things.
"Right, the crash..."
I sighed, because of course, it was my luck that we crashed.
I shook my head, "No, it's not the time for that, let's just figure out how to get out of here." I wasn't waiting around to find out if something was going to catch fire.
Wincing with effort, I managed to get myself to the only side of the car not covered in foliage. Coincidentally, it was also the only side that had an unshattered window, its sturdy form seemingly in pristine condition; the same could not be said for the door holding it, though. It was bent in some of the most unnatural ways I've ever had the displeasure of seeing.
With a bit more effort, I managed to angle my head just enough that I could get a bigger picture of the crash outside; however, that also had the side effect of seeing something I would have rather been unaware of, aka, the cop that had once been my driver was lying face-first in the mud, and he wasn't moving.
'It must have rained sometime while I was out,' I thought, unaturaly insensitive to the fact that the cop was potentially dead in front of me.
With another sigh, I turned to find my own way out of this moving cage, the solution of which came to mind relatively quickly.
"Right then, just have to keep in mind that this will be a lot more painful than some scrapes," I told myself, hoping to get my mind at least somewhat comfortable with the pain it was about to be in.
There was a foolproof way of escape, but given the angle and my awkward positioning, I had to use my slashed leg to kick in an intact window; not exactly wise, given the risks, but I'd really rather not nearly dislocate my other leg for trying with it.
With one last mental prep, I kicked forward, the impact of my foot and the window sending a ripple up my leg that nearly had me howling in pain; however, I was quick to bite down on it and just power through, confident that the pain now would be worth it in a moment.
And so, I kicked, again, and again, and again, until eventually I heard the satisfying pop of glass as it burst into hundreds of tiny pieces, with many falling onto the forest floor while leaving the rest to fall where they were shattered, with those bouncing inside the car and onto the roof now made floor.
I quickly managed to shimmy my way out of the shattered window and onto my feet, though I leaned heavily on my one good leg.
Glancing around, my dark eyes noted we weren't too far from the road, so it brought up the question of why no one had called anyone; surely the hundreds of hikers or cars would have noticed a crashed cop car, right?
"Again," I spoke, "Not the time."
Turning my chocolate gaze back to what was in front of me, I started limping my way over to the downed form of the cop, his visible skin paler than any snow I'd ever seen, and his chest unmoving; a telling sign of his fate.
With another grunt, I knelt next to the body and began to search his body for the keys, only taking minor note of the shotgun a few feet from me.
'Whatever it was that got him most certainly didn't walk away without a few holes, and given that the thing wasn't lying next to him, it tells me it lived, or he was just a really bad shot.'
After a few more moments of frisking, the familiar sound of a key ring clicking against itself had me more than relieved.
Quickly pulling the keys out of the officer's cold pocket, I began to search for the keys to the cuffs on my wrists, which had been largely ignored up until this point.
After a very frustrating guessing game, the correct key had one cuff falling off my right wrist, leaving the metal loops to dangle from my left. It was about now that I was cursing the cop from the courtroom, as the cuff bites he had left me with were finally allowed to ache properly, or at least one of them was; the other was still a solved mystery, and would ache just as much as my right.
Though I wouldn't get to find out if that was true until a bit later, as one moment I was upright fiddling with the left cuff, and the next I was being thrown on my ass by the one very cold hand of the cop that was supposed to be dead in front of me.
My eyes widened.
"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, shocked still by the sight of a dead man literally reaching beyond the grave.
It was when the dead man started trying to drag either me or his self closer that I reacted, my boot finding a comfortable step on his jaw as it kicked out, leaving its cold form dangling out of place.
The thing, though seemingly stunned, didn't release its cold grip on my ankle and continued to drag itself closer, to me, its dead grayish eyes sending shivers down my spine as I kicked out at it again, this time aiming for the hand still clutching at me.
This time, the desired effect happened, and the cold appendage unclasped itself from me, its form all but flying back to the things side as it once again reached for me, this time extending its other arm; however, it didn't get another chance to grab me, with my form backing away in haste.
My back collided with the car, which I quickly used to prop myself back up and onto my feet, adrenaline filling my veins and making me forget I was even injured.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing!?" I shouted at the dead man, trying to reason with him, though I'd later look back on this moment and scoff in amusement.
The thing paid no heed to my words and also followed suit in proping itself up on its own two legs, though its balance looked to be a lot more scuffed than mine; it didn't look like its stiff and likely locked up muscles did that any favors either.
My thoughts were interrupted when the thing took a shambling step towards me, almost falling in the process.
I wasn't one to dwell on the whys for long, so I made a dash for the shotgun near the cuff keys I dropped a second ago, praying to whatever god was out there that the thing had at least one shell left in its chamber in case I needed to defend myself with lethal force.
The dead guy didn't seem to care what I was doing as it continued to stumble like a newborn, seemingly to acclimate itself with its legs, not that I paid that fact too much attention.
Not a moment later, and the gun was in my hands, with my right on the trigger and left on the Fore-end.
Cocking the shotgun, I thanked the gods for their luck as there were at least three shells left in the chamber, each a striking bright red.
Pointing it at the stumbling, dead man, I gave one last warning, my tone already filled with shame and remorse, as the picture of what was about to happen painted itself before my very eye.
"Please! Don't make me do this, officer!"
The thing didn't seem to care and took another unbothered stumble forward, leaving me to take the only action I felt I had left; I shot.