Page 39 of Claimed By Ruin

That would disgust Uncle Levi, too, me crying about circumstances instead of fixing them.

So I trudged through the slightly too tall grass, the swish against my jean-clad calves and the soft breeze the only sounds as the noise of the farm retreated.

I focused on the fences, my shoulders loosening ever so slightly as I worked.

It was fake, temporary, but I welcomed it.

I reached the edge of the woods. It had taken a solid week to build the fence out this far, and I always started here.

As tedious as walking the fence could be, I loved these times.

To have space, to not have anyone looking at me—or to me.

To be alone with my thoughts. Thoughts that inevitably turned to him.

Jack was nothing if not consistent, so I shouldn’t have been surprised he left without a word.

I sure as fuck shouldn’t have been hurt.

But I was.

Which proved that I learned absolutely nothing.

Proved that I deserved the suffering, whether at Jack’s hands, or⁠—

I froze at the sound.

Not a voice. An inhuman gurgle.

A zombie.

I glanced to my right and realized far too late that the thing was close.

I fell back, my body twisting as I braced for impact.

Truly fucking pathetic.

Falling when trying to run away from a zombie.

How many horror movies had I screamed at the heroine for doing the exact same thing?

Yet here I was.

My hysterical laugh at a joke that, to be fair, was pretty fucking funny, only locked in the zombie’s attention.

It lunged at me, and as fate would have it, caught the very same rock that had landed me flat on my ass.

I braced myself again, but quickly rolled out of the zombie’s path.

A good thing too, because the instant it hit the ground, it burrowed its dead, broken fingers into the soft soil, pulling itself towards me.

I imagined being under that thing, those relentless, unfeeling fingers clawing at my insides.

Clawing at my baby.

I moved before the synapse finished firing, the slice of my blade cutting through the air.

Smiled at the dull impact of knife against bone.