Actions Have Consequences

"Get off of her!" I hear Dallin cry out, he then proceeds to lunge at her and shove the girl down with full force into the mud. It only takes a moment for me and Jude to rush over and grab Mallory from her clutches.

Jude takes charge and checks Mallory for any marks or damage on her, and soon finds a few cuts spread around her abdomen and chest, nothing too serious to be fatal but enough to cause a dreadful amount of pain. That little bitch.

Mallory clings to Jude for dear life, her wails echoing through the forest. What if we got here later? What if we didn't hear the commotion from Dallin? I knew we never got on well with him, but bless his soul that he heard everything and warned us.

I turn to see if he was alright, only to be met with Samara charging full speed at us. Instinctively, I use my body as a shield for Jude and Mallory, in which he shields her eyes and holds her tightly, bracing for whatever is to come.

Only, the knife never came to us. Instead, it landed in the neck of our foe-turned-friend. No...

Even Samara looks bewildered, but wastes no time pushing the knife deeper into his neck before ripping it out. Dallin clutches his neck, choking on his own blood and began to collapse to his knees. I grab him and sink down with him, feeling the blood drip from his face onto my hands.

Dallin looks up at me, with fear all in his eyes. This boy used to always say how he was never afraid of this apocalypse, how he would survive, and closed himself off from everyone. Now here we are, his body in my arms. His eyes tear up, and I can tell what he wants to say...

"I'm so sorry."

I wanted to say it's okay, but I think he already knew that and gave a small, but warming smile... Then the light from his eyes were gone like that.

Everyone else had heard what's happening out here and had rushed out, only to stand in shock and fear at the sight, and Samara burst out in a fit of psychotic giggles.

Samara...

I feel afraid to look up knowing what she had done, but I don't know if I'd forgive myself for not defending Dallin even in death. When I do look up, she stands at a distance with the bloody knife in hand, a look of sadistic pleasure in her eyes.

"What a pitiful end...A shame I couldn't get to you in time, but damn it was worth seeing the look of fear in his eyes!" It was as if Lilith herself possessed this girl.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! You just killed him!" One of the other men hollers at her, and yet she continues to giggle manically.

Everyone is angry, confused, and questioning why this girl would do such a thing. But it was always clear that something was up with her, she always seemed to seethe in disgust at any bonding moment we had, and lit up when we grieved over the loss of our friends. Why are you all confused?

"You psycho..." My voice shakes as the tears begin to pour, "He was just a child! You murdered a fucking child!"

"So?" Her voice shifts, now full of rage, "He made that choice to protect you..."

Oh no...

"He made that choice to get in my way...He made that choice to fucking ruin my moment with you!"

She lunges right at me and pushes me to the ground, frantically trying to stab me at any given moment. I scream and shield myself with my arms, watching the knife get dangerously close to my face.

We struggle. I kick, she pushes. I shove. She stabs. I feel her weight sink onto me further the more we struggle.

I manage to fling the knife from her hand and push her off, but as I turn to get up, she jumps at me once again. She begins to swing. One punch. Two punches. Three. Four.

I want to scream but at every chance I get, I'm silenced by another hit.

Jude grabs Samara and shoves her as hard as he could, landing his own swings on her, and she cried out in pain. I attempt to lift myself up, pushing with what little energy I had left in me. A violent throbbing sensation came rushing to my head, and I cry out, my fingers struggling to hold me up from the slippery mud.

Jesus fucking Christ, I can't see...I can't hear anything. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.

I turn to where Jude was, and I could faintly see him looking at me, concern on his face for my cry. But his mistake for letting his guard down is a slash to the side of his ribs.

"NO!" I scream and force myself from the ground, pushing myself over to him. The pain I feel is unbearable but right now he needs me, I will not let her harm him too.

He kneels over, clutching the cut in his side, he tried to be strong about it but I could see the tears forming in his eyes. Natalie rushes over to us and grabs him too, her eyes examining his wound. She gives me a look to say that thankfully it's not serious.

Samara attempts to swing at him again, but I get in the way and grab her wrist, pushing her back. She growls and screams, only a sound the devil himself could make as she proceeds to jump at me again. She really doesn't know when to quit.

We tumble to the ground once again and I'm back defending my face with my arms. Only this time, I fail to protect myself from her wrath and the knife slices my eye. I scream in agony, the adrenaline building up being the only thing to get Samara off of me, the force sending her flying back a few feet.

I grab my eye, feeling the blood soaking my face.

My eye..! She cut my eye! No NO NO..! I can't see. Fuck, it hurts. God, it fucking hurts.

"This is the problem with you, Aria!" Samara shrieks, "Every damn time I try to get my hands on you, someone always intervenes. Every fucking time! When I get the chance, your stupid lover boy gets in my way."

She stands up, her knuckles white from gripping her weapon to death.

"You just won't die! WHEN WILL IT BE YOU!"

...

...

What.

I slowly look up at her. She looks down at me, but soon her eyes widened when she realised what I said, knowing I also caught onto her words. Yet, there's no guilt in her words, and she smiles down at me like a incoherent child.

"Such a shame they all died like that. They wouldn't have had to suffer if you just went along with my plan." She taunts me, she giggles to herself and licks the blood on her finger.

"You're the reason they're dead..."

...

...

...

I am?

...

They're dead... because of me?

I feel my eyes water, the tears sting the wound in my left eye, but I couldn't feel the pain anymore, I couldn't feel any pain in my body that I endured... I don't know what to feel anymore...

"And now..." Samara approaches me, swinging the knife in her hand, "You can join them."

"Samara, NO!" The others call out and attempt to rush to me, but are silenced quickly.

When she attempted to plunge the knife into me, I grab her wrist once again.

I don't feel guilty. I don't feel like it's my fault. Because I know it's not. And I will not be gaslit into thinking otherwise.

This time, I lunge at her, shoving her to the ground with as much force I could muster up. She didn't have time to react again before I begin to beat the living shit out of her.

I stomp on her neck, I punch her face. One punch. Two punches. Three. Four.

When she attempts to push me away and crawl to safety, I pull her back and hitting as hard as I could. I didn't even realise I was screaming until a burning sensation surrounded my throat, all the pain and grief of losing my loved ones all unleashing in one single moment.

It got to the point where Natalie pulls me back from the violence, giving Samara a chance to breathe. They all shout at me to calm down, to stop and be the better person.

Samara kneels on the ground, sobbing and hyperventilating uncontrollably. She feels the pain that I felt ever since I lost them. Ever since their lives were taken from me in front of my very eyes. I turn to her, my own tears pouring down my face. How does it feel now that the roles are reversed, huh?

"I'm sorry...Please, don't kill me! I was doing it all for survival, I never meant what I said, their deaths were all accidents...PLEASE!" She cries, and she screams, and she pleads. The same shit everyone does in this godforsaken apocalypse, where the undead don't care what type of meat you are, and will happily rip you apart to get what they want.

But fearing the dead is nothing compared to fearing the living. Mankind who does things for their own pleasure, where survival might just be optional for some. And she's no stranger to this.

Leilani... Eito... Dallin... Mariana...

Did they really have to suffer like that? Was their deaths due to a mentally screwed girl who couldn't regulate her own emotions like others said?

I hear the groans and gurgles of the undead lurking nearby, they must have heard the commotion and want to feast on whatever they could get their hands on. Samara hears the same, and fear swallows her up.

"Please...I'll fix myself, I don't want to die." She looks up at me, and I almost see a girl she once used to be, maybe the little girl her parents miss, when they were alive.

In any normal circumstance, I would have felt some remorse for her, since I know a situation like this fucks someone up. I would have had the heart to forgive her.

But the gun in my hand spoke for me.

She roars in pain, clutching onto her thigh in which the bullet pierced. Blood wastes no time seeping onto her skin.

"You bitch...! I'll kill you. I'll fucking KILL YOU!" She attempts to grab onto me, but I silence her with a swift punch to her jaw.

She doesn't care, we both know if I showed her an ounce of mercy that she would plan to come straight for me. And I would rather watch her die.

I grab a handful of her hair and forcefully drag her. She scratches and pulls at me, trying to free herself. She cries and begs for me to spare her, but why should I?

I pull her as far as I could and throw her back down, kicking her for the last time in her ribs. She struggles to breathe, but once she regains her breath, she goes back to pleading and begging. I share her one last look, before turning and walking away in silence.

I don't want to look back, I don't know why I should. I'll block out the sight, but I enjoy the sound of her skin being ripped apart and her organs devoured. I enjoy hearing her cry out for help. I enjoy hearing her suffer.

The others look at me with mixed emotions. Fear. Disgust. Confusion. They look at me as if I was her.

Why are they afraid? I did us all a favour.

Soon we become surrounded by the undead, and they all retreat inside the cottage. I attempt to grab Mallory, who hides away in Jude's arms.

...

Oh.

No...

Jude shares a single look with me, before turning and limping inside, using his jacket to block the bleeding from the cut in his side. He, too, looks disgusted in me. The sudden look of hatred in his eyes.

I did what I had to. Killing her would have prevented any more innocent lives from being taken...

...

Would they?

...

Was revenge really worth it?