Crimson Rivers

6) Hunger

AFTER

The pain in her throat grew too great, and the screaming ended. Sadie lunged at Hunter and flung him away from the fire, watching his body hit the side of the bed.

He collapsed on the ground, unmoving, hopefully still breathing. Abby raced to her brother, putting her hand on his chest, seemingly listening for a pulse. She then curled up next to him, tears flowing down her puffy cheeks.

Sadie tried to calm the erratic mess of thoughts in her head, some screaming about the blood soaking through her shirt, some begging for death, and some quieter ones urging Sadie to keep going, to quell the fire.

She pulled herself together, grabbed a handful of towels from her closet and fanned and swatted the fire away but burned herself in the process. A few screams broke out past the room, coming from her group which had been given the luxury of time to process.

Sadie cursed under her breath but managed to put out the flames, finding nothing but ash under the mess of towels. She placed a finger in to sift for something edible but reeled back, feeling the heat nip at her skin. It was all gone, absorbed into the air with only the smell left to tease.

"Fuck," Sadie muttered, realizing then how much of an understatement that word was.

Abby looked over to Sadie, her eyes pleading for something. Some sort of comfort, a reminder that things would be okay. The things kids need to hear. But Sadie stayed quiet, her skin sticky with the blood of a woman she barely knew.

Sadie left Abby and the ash, and crawled into the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to hop into a warm bath, wash away the grime; feel a peace she long took for granted. She shut the door behind her. The smell in the room was nauseating and the floor was now covered in bloody shoe prints.

She turned the tap, and nothing happened, but that was no surprise. The water shut off weeks ago.

The thought of running outside and telling the group the news hit her, and the urge to rot grew stronger. Light trickled in through the curtains, and Sadie found herself drawn to it. In the miasma of blood and pain, Sadie kneeled, her hands folded against one another, and her eyes shut tight. She wasn't sure who she was praying to and wondered why she even bothered, but it was all she could think to do.

Mom always said to pray. No matter how impossible things seemed, God would provide. Sadie always wondered if Mom just didn't pray hard enough to be cured of her cancer. To the girls rotting in some stranger's basement, did they also not show enough devotion? The Earth had been drowned in blood yet God remained silent. How much more would it take for Him to show His face?

Sadie relinquished herself and sent up a jumbled mess of the events of the past months, of the pain she had suffered through, of the hopelessness she bore. She begged for help, asking for anything but this. Make it stop. Please.

A moment passed, but there was no sign from the heavens. A dove didn't land on her shoulder. Angels didn't carry her from perdition. Instead, a voice crept up from behind her.

"I'm right here," The Beast bellowed, his breath cold against her ear.

It sent shivers down her spine. His spindly fingers strummed through her hair, pulling out clumps of Beth. She whimpered, tears clashing down her face. She refused to open her eyes, knowing seeing him again would be too much to bear.

He soon vanished, leaving Sadie alone with her thoughts. More alone than she'd ever felt before. There'd always been some part of her that wondered if maybe there was a God, someone watching out for her, but she knew now that if there ever was a God, he was either too cruel to care, had been shredded with everyone else, or had never been there in the first place.