Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
_______
Villains always have a story, a past in which they weren't a wretched monster, only weak and misunderstood. Or simply, good. But sometimes the villain would redeem themselves in the end.
Lauren highly doubted that she could ever become the child she once was.
Darkness loomed with every step she took. The dark, brown leaves under her boots crunched, leaving an eerie feel around her as she made her way blindly through the forest. The figure strode slowly along an unknown path; it's not like she had anywhere to be.
Her dark emerald eyes squinted as they examined the landscape in front of her. The girl under the dark, green hood could hear something, but she didn't know what direction it was coming from.
A loud gurgling sound suddenly filled her ears. She perked up, spinning her head towards the source of the noise. It was just another biter. The undead creature stumbled towards the mysterious girl as it hung its jaw open, hungry for her flesh to say the least. Her brooding eyes turned soft as she recognized the creature to be the undead version of her aunt Julie.
She felt the slightest bit of grief when the memories of who she was came into mind; they disappeared almost instantly. If this was before the epidemic, she would probably cry in remorse. But she wasn't the same girl anymore; she could hardly recognize herself.
She knew what it felt like to look into a mirror and despise what she sees. She hated everything she had become, but she was too far gone to ever redeem herself.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she watched as the biter got too close for comfort. She took the dagger out of her holster and roughly shoved it into its forehead, making the creature fall down dead. The dagger was pulled out, the young brunette's nose scrunching at the horrid smell and look of the deep red blood dripping from the knife. She simply wiped it off on her old jeans. She was used to the vulgar smell and gruesome nature of these monsters. She was numb to the world.
And numb to everything else this apocalypse had to offer.
Plunging the dagger back into her holster, she took off her backpack and searched for her journal. Feeling the cold leather brush against her fingertips, she grasped it and took it out. Then she searched for a pencil. But instead, she felt an unfamiliar piece of paper. Looking at it, she inspected it. It was an old photo of her; she must have had it in here when she first started packing her bag all those years ago.
The colours had faded, and the edges were ripped, but her 10-year-old self was still clearly visible. Her dark, chestnut hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. It reached the middle of her neck, but after not cutting it for so many months her hair went past her chest. Her beaming smile in the photo made an uneasy feeling rest in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was because she hadn't seen herself that happy since then. Or maybe it was because the girl in the photo had no clue what was to come.
