The emptiness inside Ethan would never be felt by any of them. Charles might be the only other person to really care about him killing Ann, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind kept replaying when he pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

Ann's head would whip back in the same state, blood seeping from her forehead. He looked down at the ground, his knees, and his hands resting on them. They were the hands of a cold blooded killer, he mentally told himself, his hands belonged to a killer.

The lightheadedness started to drift off slowly as he heard Brent talking to him. "Ethan. Ethan. You alright?"

Ethan's empty eyes glanced at the man's concerned face, and Ethan just blinked. Brent shook him, but no response.

I'm a killer... a killer...

Brent cut through his thoughts, "I think he's going into shock! How are the other two doing?"

The male that had been shot in the arm replied after checking Charles who was laying on the ground, "The girl will be alright, but I don't think this one will make it. He's got about twenty more minutes or so until he bleeds out."

Brent shot back quick orders, "Stop the bleeding then! Pull out the emergency supplies. Nobody else is going to die today."

Another one of the group members took off inside. Within minutes two of them were bent over Charles lifeless body. A semi-large pool of blood sat around them as they applied new bandage after bandage to the wound.

At the same time, Brent was pulling Ethan inside the house. Ethan just followed clumsily as he was shuffled along. His face devoid of expression didn't show if he was really there anymore.

Brent was wrong, however, as when morning hit the next day Charles finally died. The bandages did nothing to stop the bleeding as he slipped away silently in the first rays of sunlight. Bree was recovering from her injury, but Ethan was even more detached when he saw Charles put to rest.

I did this all... I'm the killer, the one to blame.

Ethan didn't react to anything for two days. He was force fed by Bree, the only person who could get him to cooperate to a certain extent. Brent thought about how much Ethan had changed after he left, and after the death of Ann and Charles.

The group of nine bunkered into the house for a few weeks as Ethan started to come back into the reality. Bree coaxed him on to a faster recovery.

On the porch outside Bree spoke to Ethan who was staring out to the tree line, "You can cut it out you know."

Ethan glanced over towards her with a bland expression.

Bree continued, "All this!" She emphasized towards him, "why do you do it? It's over! I've lost people to, you know!"

Ethan licked his lips, and spoke quietly, his voice still raspy from not using it, "Yeah, I do know. But did you have to pull the trigger?"

Bree closed her mouth before shaking her head; prompting Ethan to speak some more, "Exactly. I'm responsible for Ann's, and Charles' death. I should have shot her earlier when Charles came running."

Bree disagreed with him blaming himself, "Survivors guilt."

Ethan glanced up from looking at the ground, "What?"

Bree sighed, "I said, 'Survivors guilt.' Can you please just get over it. Charles was close to me as well."

Ethan laughed slightly at that before mumbling, "I doubt that he was close to you as he was to me..."

Ethan then stood up, and walked inside, leaving Bree alone on the porch.

•••••••

Please no hate!

I know I know I know!

Two main characters dying in back to back chapters. It's heart wrenching, and it had to be done.

Just to have some relief: I'm not planing for any other characters to die for some time. If anymore do die it will most likely be very close to the end of the book.