text: [Themes: horror]
  
  I shiver. My breathe turns into a mist. My body aches. Bruises are everywhere.
  
  Heavy breathing comes from the kitchen. I'm inside my home. Except for a crazy's corpse next to me, there's nobody in here. The corpse is burnt, and flesh is rotting from the bone. The flesh falls off. The door is open. It's bright outside. That one must've not left. I hope he suffered as he saw the sun.
  
  There's a trail of blood on the floor. Pieces of... I can't tell. They're pieces of people. It's all in a line, several lines. All of which go to the kitchen from where the breathing emanates. The breathing is labored. The revolver is next to me, and I do not know if it has anything inside.
  
  I reach and grab the gun. My savior has three bullets, yet I hope to use only one. I sit up, and the floor creaks. A crash comes from the kitchen. I stand. It cannot reach me, for I am in the light. I could run and find help. Where is my family? My mother's screaming no longer pierces the tranquility while I see no evidence of my father or brother's demise.
  
  It growls. The creature knows I am here. Rage swells inside me, for they took from me what I deserve. I deserve the innocence that I no longer have.
  
  I drop the gun and fall on my hands and knees. I heave until the meager contests of my stomach poor onto the floor. I continue to heave though there is nothing left, and my insides scream in protest.
  
  I cry. My tears fall into my vomit. I try to push the bile from my hands, though the stench is even more unbearable.
  
  "Damn you!" I shout. "Damn all of you and all of your kind!" I pick up a chair and throw it at the kitchen. It does not reach. I grab whatever is small and hurl it to the dark room. The beast grunts, but I do not see its form.
  
  "Come out, come out. Face me." I slam my hands on the table. "Sniveling bastard, come out here!"
  
  The beast does not emerge, so I take hold of the revolver again. I stand in front of the kitchen door.
  
  Is this a good idea?
  
  > Enter
  I take the gun in my hand. I march into the kitchen. I do not see it. The room is so dark.
  
  The pots are thrown in all directions. The table is smashed, and its shards look like icicles. Human remains are half gnawed, though I can barely make out the face of Jacob. Blood, crap, and urine are on the floor and walls.
  
  I turn around. It is between the door and me, but it does not move to attack. It is still wearing clothes.
  
  "Father?" I ask. It gives no reply. "Father is that you?"
  
  It moans and limps away from the door. One of his legs decomposes, for a ray of light shone from the doorway to his leg.
  
  "Can you understand me? Did you hurt me as well?"
  
  It stops walking at a dark corner.
  
  "Why aren't you attacking?"
  
  My eyes adjust to the light. Though the face is deformed, it still looks like the man it used to be. I can see my father's face. The face looks sad and pained.
  
  I swallow. Is he still alive in their watching helplessly? Is he dead?
  
  "I'm sorry," I say. I pull the trigger. I am pushed backwards and slip in the blood. I fall into the floor, and my head is slammed into a pot.
  
  It wails. It wails in pain like an animal.
  
  I stand and steady my feet. I pull the trigger again. The bullet goes through its head. Blood and goo splatter on the wall. I fire one last time.
  
  I leave the room.
  
  My bare feet are bleeding from splinters, covered in crap, and soaked in blood. I use what's left of my nightgown to clean them.
  
  I climb up the ladder to the loft, and put on some of my clothes and my belt. I want to lie in bed, but I cannot forget my family. My mother or brother may still be alive. I take my coat and head outside.
  
  I feel as though I have been punched in the stomach. I'm disgusted. I wish to rip out my heart, for I have killed my father. I lean against the house. The world rotates around my head, so I sit in the snow.
  
  I'm so dizzy; I'm so horrible. I am a murderer.
  
  I wanted to kill my father. The crazies deserve to die, but my father did not. I... I don't know what to think. I'm too tired.
  
  I walk. I stumble forward to Lune. I stop, for they would kill me. Yes, that would be my punishment for killing my father. No, that doesn't make any sense.
  
  What am I going to do?
  
  > To Lune
  I go to town, for they may pity me. I wobble down the road drifting both right and left. I look at my feet to know that I am walking, for I can hear nothing. A sharp ringing won't escape my ears.
  
  What will happen when I reach town? Will they hang me, or will they shoot me? Maybe I can say that I found my father already shot. Yes, I could do that. I can say everything else truthfully, so I will live.
  
  The world is covered in white, but I can see a splotch of black in the distance. It is not Lune.
  
  As I near, its movements become apparent. I call out for help, and it stops. I rush to it, but I slip in the snow. I push myself back to my feet and continue running. It is my brother.
  
  "Claire," he says. His teeth chatter.
  
  I kneel next to him and ask, "Are you okay?"
  
  "Yes, Pa saved me. Where's he? Where's Ma?"
  
  "I don't know."
  
  He says something too quietly for me to hear.
  
  "Can you say that again? My hearing isn't working well."
  
  "Can you help me get to Lune?"
  
  "Yes, how are you alive?"
  
  "I made a shelter. It got too cold."
  
  He climbs on my back, and I pick him up. My legs ache. My entire body is sore, dirty, and tarnished.
  
  "Are you crying, Sis?"
  
  "No."
  
  "You are."
  
  "Save your strength."
  
  Those intruders, they killed my father. They caused me to be attacked. They caused my brother to freeze and my mother to disappear. If it wasn't for them, we'd have had the door locked and our fire no longer burning. The crazies would've passed by or failed to get inside. Instead, they came. At least they died.
  
  I take step after step. I want to sit and give my legs a rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep away my sorrow. No, the weight that presses on my back must reach Lune. My brother deserves to live, for he did nothing wrong. Yes, he's annoying, but I love him.
  
  There it is. Lune is just a speck, but it will only become closer now.
  
  "We should call for help," I tell my brother.
  
  His screams pierce my ears. My screams echo his. We yell, "Help." Help is something I wish we had a day earlier. No, we were too far from them.
  
  Men and women rush to us. I let my legs buckle. I crash to the snow. It's alright now. My brother is safe, and he will survive. That is all I want now... Well, my mother is missing.
  
  "Tell them that mother is missing."
  
  "Okay."
  
  "Never let them tell you anything about our Father."
  
  "Okay."
  
  We are surrounded. Hands grasps at us. Mouths say words that I do not understand. My brother says something to them, but I cannot discern them either. It's like the world is outside and I'm stepping back into a cave. Darkness creeps into my vision, and sounds are hard to hear. I feel cold.
  
  I close my eyes. I smile.
  
  It's time to rest. I don't particularly care if I wake up.