Yo.

Please ignore any spelling or grammar issues. I don't like proof reading.

• • •

I watch the water run over my body. By the time it reaches the shower floor it is no longer translucent as water should be. It is dark brown as it trickles down the drain, the dirt from my body finally being freed after a thorough scrubbing. I haven't showered or bathed for four months, due to the water shortage and lack of electricity in town. You have no idea how great it feels to be clean again.

Being able to run your fingers through your hair without getting them stuck is awesome.

I hop out of the shower, drying myself with the towel provided by Noah. I dress in the set of clothes borrowed from Mae. A pair of cargo pants, a plain shirt and a hoody with a zipper down the middle. They fit me pretty well, but they would have fit better if I wasn't so skinny.

There is a mirror above the sink on the other side of the bathroom. I don't really want to see myself, but my own curiosity draws me towards it. I'm rather afraid of what I'll see, so I try to mentally prepare myself for the change that I will undoubtedly see. I'm still imagining myself the way I looked back before everything changed. Shoulder length blonde hair, brown eyes, pasty white skin, freckles.

My feet move to the mirror until I am standing in front of it, staring into the eyes of a girl I don't recognise. Her face is gaunt, and dark rings hang below her eyes, which are dull and lifeless. The skin that used to be like snow, has been browned by the sun, and the smattering of freckles that used to be over her nose, has now spread over most of her face. Her hair no longer sits at her shoulders, now it's closer to the middle of her back.

I lean closer to the reflective glass, having a hard time believing that the girl in the reflection is me. I have new scars. One above my left eyebrow from when I got into a fist fight with another girl my age over a bottle of water. It's small, barely noticeable, but I still know it's there and it disgusts me. I beat a girl half to death for a bottle of water.

What kind of a person am I?

I really don't want to answer that. Instead, I leave the bathroom, heading downstairs to the kitchen, where once again, everybody has gathered.

"You're blonde," Noah comments, seeming mildly surprised.

So he can show emotion.

"It seems that way, doesn't it?" I reply, leaning against the counter. I watch Aaron as he tries to figure out how my hair colour could have possibly changed within the last forty five minutes. I raise my eyebrows, watching as he opens and closes his mouth, trying to come up with a theory.

"Did you dye your hair?" He finally asks.

"Jesus Christ," Noah mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and momentarily closing his eyes.

It worries me that his question is genuine and he actually isn't joking.

"Aaron," I speak slowly. "I washed my hair."

He frowns. "So? My hair never changes colour when I wash it."

I roll my eyes, sighing irritatedly. "Dirt, Aaron. I had dirt in my hair, so when I washed it, it returned to its normal colour, blonde."

He ponders my explanation. "But where did the dirt come from?"

I stare at him blankly. "It came from the fucking sky, because that's where all dirt comes from."

"But then if dirt comes from the sky, where does rain come from?" He asks.

God, I can't handle his dumbness.

"I'm not answering that, and if you ask another stupid question I will hurt you."

"Okay, that's enough," Noah says, giving me a pointed look.

What did I do? It's not my fault that he's stupid.

He looks around at all of us, as if he's internally debating whether or not to tell us something.

"We're leaving."

There is an uproar of voices and opinions, protesting the idea. I don't say anything, nothing needs to be said. What Noah said wasn't an option, it was an order.

He rolls his eyes as they continue to detest the proposed plan. "Shut up!" He snaps dangerously. They immediately shut their mouthes and look at him.

"As I said, we're leaving." He looks at me. "Princess was right, we can't stay here, not for much longer anyway. Our food store is low, and if we don't leave soon we'll all starve."

"What about the animals?" Mae asks anxiously, biting her thumbnail.

"We'll let them go, they'll have a better chance of surviving if they aren't stuck in cages," Noah replies.

"I don't want to go," Cassidy states.

"You don't have to. I'm not saying that you have to come with us, but you'll be better off with us than without us." Noah pauses. "So who's coming with me?"

"We will," Patrick replies, answering for both Garrett and himself.

"Sounds like a good time, I'll go," Aaron grins.

I scrunch up my face. And here I was hoping that he would stay behind.

Cassidy sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Fine, I'll go."

"You don't have to, seriously, I wouldn't mind one bit if you stayed behind," I added.

She glares at me. "I'm going."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Okay, no need to be hostile."

"Stan?" Noah asks, completely ignoring the exchange between Cassidy and I.

He shrugs, smirking in my direction. "Only if sweetheart is going to be there."

"Sweetheart won't be so sweet if you keep calling her that." I send him my laser eyes glare.

"Well that's everybody," Noah concludes.

Mae waves from the other end of the counter. "Um, hello, I'm here too."

"You're not staying," Noah, decides for her.

"Wasn't planning on it, besides, someone has to keep you in line."

I see a hint of a smile cross Noah's lips, but it's gone in an instant.

He sighs, licking his lips. "Well, we need to make a list."

He produces a pen and a semi crumpled sheet of paper from somewhere. I'm not entirely sure where, and I'm not about to ask. I watch as his hand smooths out the crinkles in the paper.

The first thing he writes down is food. His handwriting is rather neat for a guy who doesn't seem all that prideful in the way others perceive him. None of the letters are linked, and they never touch. The next thing he writes is water. He does his e's like backwards threes. Although there are no lines on the paper, his words run perfectly horizontal across the page, a skill that I have never possessed. My handwriting always seems to end up looking like it's gradually sliding down a slope.

Jesus, am I really getting jealous over someone else's handwriting?

Noah looks up from the paper, his eyes landing on each of us for a short amount of time, before moving on to the next person.

"I'm up for suggestions," Aaron opens his mouth to contribute. "So long as they're reasonable." He shuts his mouth, not even bothering to voice his suggestion.

"Flashlights," Mae speaks, "And matches."

"Lighters too," Patrick mutters.

Noah nods, adding all three items to the list, writing down weapons and rope as he thinks of them.

"Wait," Aaron wonders aloud. "Why would we need flashlights and matches? I mean, why would you need matches for light, when you have flashlights?"

"So I'm assuming you're going to cook raw meat, and keep yourself warm with a flashlight right?" I asked sarcastically.

"Oh...I didn't think of that," he replies.

"Yeah I gathered that." I roll my eyes, looking at the list, which is lacking a few essentials. "First aid supplies, spare clothes, maps of the area, binoculars, pocket knives, blankets, a compass, sunscreen, duct tape-"

"Hold up princess," Noah interrupts as he scribbles down the items, frowning as he reaches the last one. His eyes flick to mine. "Duct tape?"

I nod. "Trust me, if you can't fix it with duct tape, it can't be fixed."

He looks sceptical but writes it down anyway. "Anything else?"

"Condoms," Stan suggests with a smirk. I can tell he's looking at me.

Ugh, what a sleazebag.

"Don't worry Stan, you can't get your hand pregnant," I reply nonchalantly.

Noah snorts, looking at Stan as if to say 'you should've seen that coming'.

To my complete and utter surprise, a deep chuckle comes from my left. I see Garrett with his head tipped back, the sound floating from his mouth. When I say his laugh is deep, I'm not messing around. His laugh is deeper than the pit that Noah's emotions fell into and couldn't be retrieved from.

Kidding, kidding, nothing is quite that extensive.

But seriously, Garrett's laugh sounds like a river of milk chocolate flowing out of a volcano made of marshmallows.

Did I just compare his laugh to s'mores?

Yes I did. Wow, my imagination scares me sometimes.

Garrett stops laughing, noticing that everyone is watching him. He makes his facial expression neutral. "What?"

We all turn away, pretending we weren't looking. Way to not look guilty you guys.

Noah clears his throat. "Right, well if we're going to leave tomorrow, we should probably get our asses moving and gather supplies." He hands the list to Mae. "Go to the living room to delegate."

She nods, and they follow her. I go to join them, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.

"You're staying here," Noah says sternly.

I frown. "Why?"

He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a piece of paper and unfolding it. The handwriting is familiar.

Where did he get that?

I know what it is. "Give it to me," I demand.

"Not until you tell me what it is," he replies calmly, leaning against the counter.

"What is written on that sheet of paper is none of your damn business," I snarl, reaching out to grab it, but he pulls it out of my reach. I sigh "What do you want from me?"

"This," he says, holding the sheet in front of my face. "What does it mean? The people on this list, who are they?"

"They're dead, that's what they are."

"How do you know?"

"Because I killed them."

He nods, flipping the paper over. The number twelve is circled on the back.

"The twelve, is that...?"

"The number of people I've killed? Yes."

"On the list, why do some of them have names and some of them have blank spaces next to their number?"

"Because I knew some of them," I swallow. "And I always look for ID on the ones I don't know."

"Why?" He asks, perplexed.

"So that when this place goes back to normal, they'll know how long to throw me in prison for, and they'll know that I've killed children, people who didn't know what they were doing."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Noah says. "Its kill or be killed, it just shows that you're stronger than them."

Yeah, and more of an animal.

"Yeah whatever," I reply, taking a seat at the counter. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stay right there and not move," he says, pointing as if to warn me. He disappears around the corner and I hear him descending stairs, so he's probably going into the basement.

"Fine by me," I mutter, yawning as I rest my head on the counter.

• • •

By the time Noah returns, my eyelids are drooping. All I want to do is sleep, but I know there isn't time. I sit up, yawning and blinking to clear the blurriness in my eyes. I notice that he's carrying the two plastic storage boxes from the basement. He places them on the ground, opening one and digging around. Making a sound of approval, he suddenly throws something at me. I watch as it sails over my shoulder, only realising after it lands on the ground that I could've caught it.

I look from the object on the ground, which looks like a granola bar, to Noah, who just sighs, looking at me blankly.

"You couldn't have even tried to catch that?" He asks, sending me a sideways glance as he retrieves the bar from the floor.

"Sorry, I uh-"

He places it in my hand. "Eat." He then starts taking food items out of each box and stacking them on the counter in groups. I look at the bar in my hand and tear the wrapper off. I shove half of it in my mouth, barely chewing before I swallow. The second half of the bar goes down equally as quickly as the first. I don't even know what it tasted like.

Noah looks up, frowning when he sees me not eating. "I thought I told you to eat."

"I did."

He raises an eyebrow. "You ate that already?"

I give him a blank look. "No, I fed it to my imaginary friend Jeff," I reply, rolling my eyes.

Instead of relying, he tosses me an apple, which I catch this time. I bite into it hungrily, not really caring what I look like. Being graceful isn't really on my list of priorities.

Noah watches me, as I demolish the apple, core and all. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, noticing that he is still staring at me.

"What?"

"When did you eat last?"

"Not yesterday but the day before," I frown, maybe it was the day before that. "I don't know, what does it matter anyway?"

"Maybe you shouldn't come with us," he ponders aloud.

"Like hell! It was my idea, I'm going."

"You're weak."

I snort. weak?! Who does he think he's talking to?

"I'm not weak."

"Yes you are," he snaps. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? I don't know how you're not dead already. You need time to recover."

I glare at him, standing up. "Look, I'm ready to die. My family is dead, my friends are dead. I have nothing left to live for. There is nothing left to live for except for the fact that there could be other people out there."

He studies me with hard eyes. "Fine, just don't slow us down."

I scoff. "Trust me, slow is not in my vocabulary."

• • •

Holy cheese balls, that took a long time to write. You have no idea how fun this book is to write.

Oh, and an update on my vampire neighbours, one of them is a vegetarian...

Please comment, vote, and follow.

Adios amigos.

Until next time.