DYSTOPIA [hs] |Complete|

viii - Relapse.

     Some people might say that living in a post-apocalyptic world is a curse. Others might say that's it's God's way of restarting the human race. The world has revolved around cruel leaders, wars, and inexcusable death. The past society had evolved around racism, homophobia, sexism, inequality, bullying, and the list could go on. The last words from Fredrick had been set in stone in my mind, engraved in concrete and permanently marked. His theory was plausible and his words were authentic.

     If it's not the dead that is going to kill us, then it's the living.

     At least the dead don't play mind games with us.

     The living would exceed any line that is considered remotely humane if it's to save themselves. When the group I was previously with passed the city we watched as guardians abandoned their children, others taking their own lives but oblivious to the fact that they would come back from the dead (and it's ridiculous how literal I am with that comment).

     Trust has been limited nowadays. The world used to be based on trust, when wars occurred countries would fight with their allies, relationships functioned with each spouse being honest and trusting each other. Natural reproduction relied on that. Now with every second that is being spent, humans are dying; either being consumed and becoming one of them, or losing that ally with the living.

     The extent that some people would go to, to save their own skin is sickening.

     "We need to go back to that town," Harry spoke for the first time in minutes. His voice was but a mere whisper, yet with the softness brought control. It wasn't a question. It was a command. Nothing I was going to say would change his mind.

     "I understand."

     "We still have a few stores to check out. And we need to go back to the lab." He twiddled the tape in between his fingers, examining the appearance and re-reading the italic handwriting. "He was a good man and he didn't deserve the fate he has. The least I could do is stop his suffering. Even if it's not him, it would feel right."

     "I understand," I repeated with a sigh. He shut the camcorder, placing it besides him and laying on his bed with his feet still on the ground. I repeated the same action he did, except my feet were slightly above the boards. We stared at the ceiling, my hands resting on my chest as I felt the steady beat of my heart. It was a soothing sound, so peaceful.

     "Are you hungry?" He asks, breaking the silence between us.

     I shrugged, not bothered to reply. I just wanted to lay on the bed, but the grumble emitting from my stomach declared otherwise. I groaned, turning so my face was right on the mattress.

     "I think your stomach is trying to talk," Harry's quiet chuckle filled the room.

     "Yeah it's asking me to tell you to bring me food. Pronto. Fetch me my nutrients, m'lady."

     "Lady? You're kidding me. I can assure you I'm a man."

     "Whatever you say," I turned and lay on my back and smirked at his shocked expression. He was less than satisfied with my teasing. And it was amusing the Hell out of me.

     "I'm not a woman."

     I nodded in mockery. "If saying that makes you believe it then go ahead. Do whatever makes you happy little lady."

     "I'm not little either." His brow raised and before I knew it my wrists were pinned above my head as he lifted himself above me in a flash. Dark, curly waves of hair fell forward from his forehead, tickling my cheek. His head disappeared from my vision as he lowered his lips to my ear. "I can prove it to you, if you'd like." The heat of his breath sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed harshly, releasing his grip on my wrist and raising my palms to press them against his chest so he would lift himself off of me. But it was hard since there was almost no space between our bodies. Our close proximity was making every muscle and bump of his prominent against mine.