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“It won’t be like that. We have pastures down below. Lights. Grass, even.”
“I can’t go down there. Don’t ask me to.”
“Do you realize what I just said? That a goddamn zombie pigeon might peck your damn eyes out one day?”
“You act like the choice is so easy.”
“If it’s between being worshiped underground and death topside, I’d say it’s a no-brainer.”
“Well, maybe I don’t care to be worshiped,” she snaps. “I’m not going.”
“You act like you have a choice.”
If I thought she couldn’t get more mad, I was wrong.
“Like hell you’re going to make me go anywhere!”
“Go ahead, try to leave. See what happens.”
Instead of looking angry, she looks sad. So very hurt.
It brings about the worst feelings in me of shame and longing and a despair cultivated over years of torture
Maybe it’s better this way. That she should hate me. She’ll come around, eventually, when she finds someone she fancies, which she’s bound to.
There are still dozens of top-shape CPs left, among others. Not that the Vultures will get a chance with her. They’ll be lucky if I don’t kill every last one of them.
“Do you understand your situation?” I say firmly.
“Fuck you to hell!” she seethes, her piercing blue eyes locked on mine.
“Sweetheart, I’m already there.”
10
TWO REQUIREMENTS
BROOKE
One Week Later
Fuck Gabriel.
I wish he could see how angry I am, but he’s chosen to hole away in the other room like a coward, coming out only to eat and shower.
Fuck him for that.
Every day, I think to myself,“My life can’t get worse.”
And without fail, I’m proven wrong. My greatest dream got twisted into a nightmare, which is somehow worse than all the abuse I’ve endured.
I’ll admit that before the zombie apocalypse; I didn’t know how good I had it. Sure, my stepmom was a bitch, and my father wasn’t much better, but my problems were superficial. Even when the dead rose, I was kept safe longer than most, going to bed each night on my down featherbed without loss of sleep.
The real hardship started when Frank came into my life, and even then I was kept well protected, though with significantly less clothes and dignity.
He never beat me too badly, because he didn’t like marred skin, and at times he was…kind with his affection, however unwanted it was.
I cringe. Just thinking of his hands on me makes me want to bathe in acid.
