FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

10: The Beauty

10

I guess you could say I'm bored. Bored as in bored. Bored of everything, bored of life. Just bored in general. People may call this depression (that what my therapist calls it) but I call it sickness.

I'm sick.

Sure, everything has a purpose and meaning. But I feel as if I'm nothing compared to society.

Literally, the only two people that matter in my life is my younger sister and Bobby. That's the only two.

You're probably thinking, hey, what about the rest of your family. Your mum? Your dad? Grandma, grandad. Aunts, uncles, cousins...? They don't mean shit to me. They never cared about me. So why should I care about them? Well, that's when they were alive. Most of my family is gone. Illnesses, accidents and even some murdered.

I don't talk about my feelings. I can't verbalise them. I try to write my feelings down on a blank piece of paper. But it just remains that way.

Blank. Empty. Daring and calling out my name to touch ink and maybe try to even perforate it. To do anything. Maybe I'm like this sheet of paper. Metaphorically, of course.

"Ugh! Would you turn your stupid cartoon down, Misty!" I scold from the kitchen, my younger sister in the living room with her singing along to the SpongeBob SqaurePants theme song.

I've got to do my biology homework, maybe even revising it a little before Aunt Palua comes home from work. But nothing goes in, the only thing I hear the upbeat tune of a pirate and a bunch of children shouting along.

"Christ alive..." I curse, finishing my last question and hearing someone at the front door.

"Henri!" Misty calls, wanting me to answer the door.

I slam my biology folder shut, walking down the hall to the front door, the picture and quote "home is where your heart is" hanging beside the door.

I open the door, a dark skinned boy with glasses with his German Shepard dog. I smile.

Bobby and his dog, Sam.

"Hey," he chirps, holding the leash with one hand to allow Sam to stay by his side.

"Hi, Bobby," I reply, then looking down to Sam and saying hello to him.

"I was just wondering," Bobby begins, scratching the back of his neck and not making eye contact with me. "...do you maybe, possibly... Hang out with me for a while-"

He then immediately jumps in, panicking. "I mean, you don't have to. I was just asking. And-"

I stop him, saying his name over and over again to stop his rambling he's doing over the top of his name.

"Yes?" He finally asks, clearing his throat, his dog licking my fingers.

"Of course I'll hang out with you."

A wide yet beautiful bright white smile takes over his complexion, making my stomach develop butterflies.

I've known Bobby for years, us being neighbors since the day we were born. We were inseparable, us doing everything together: learning how to ride a bike, fishing, drawing, playing video games or even as simply as taking a midnight stroll through the park.

But now as we're both older (me eighteen and Bobby seventeen) we've faded away from our strong friendship that we once had, disassembling the tight cords that kept us together. It wasn't like someone got a sharp pair of scissors, using only one quick motion and that was that.

No. It was more like the both of us taking small steps back, the rope slowly breaking and ripping. Fraying. Until the final last piece of rope that kept us together just went snap, thus life taking a very different heavy and hard toll.

Now, we have been seeing each other again quite often than what we're used to at this day and age, making me happy all over again like when we were kids.

I'm very grateful for Bobby in my life. He's a blessing.

"Great," he says, me explaining to Misty I'll be gone for a couple of hours, locking and closing the door behind me and meeting Bobby.

"I thought we could take a walk to The Lake Den," Bobby says, us beginning to walk side by side, Sam out in front of us.

"Just like old time, uh?" I say, looking over to the boy I've known all my life.

"Just like old times," he says with a grin, me knowing already I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life.

🔸🔸🔸

30 Minutes Later

We have been at The Lake Den for more than fifteen minutes, the swans and ducks gobbling down the bread we have been throwing in, both of us sitting down on a wooden bench, Sam running around behind us scaring off different types of birds. Mostly crows and ravens.

"This is nice," Bobby announces, stretching his dark arms up into the air, the sun halfway through setting.

"Yes. It is," I say with a sigh accidentally, Bobby catching on to my sudden change in demeanor.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his tone serious.

I don't want to be corny or in any way cringy, so I reply "nothing."

He just nods, Sam suddenly growling and barking in the tall trees, both of us standing up from the bench.

The atmosphere shifts, it becoming feverish and toxic, the deadly, poisonous fumes going straight to my uneasy stomach making it flip like a coin. What's got Sam so uptight?

The intense barking and vicious growling demolishes into cries and whimpers, the dog howling and yapping like he was being tortured or got hurt by something. Or someone.

That's when I first set eyes on them things, about seven coming out of the forest and out into the open for us to lay eyes upon. Blood and guts circle all of their ugly mouths, stumbling towards us.

Bobby shouts out, pointing at specifically one of the horror creatures, grabbing my hand hastily and running back to our houses.

The image that I just witnessed is embedded in my mind, blinking then seeing it again. And again. And again.

In the mouth of one of the things was Sam's blue collar, the collar no more blue. For it had been dyed the sickly colour red.

Welcome to the apocalypse.