her.
“You shouldn’t be challenging him. You should be thanking him. Thanks to Father we’re alive. Thanks to Father we’re safe. Had it not been for his actions - that night you came home from trying to rescue us - we could have all been killed. You need to remember that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
A knock at the door interrupted us. The door opened and Mother stuck her head into the room. “Your father says breakfast is ready if you care to come down.”
Mother didn’t wait for an answer from us. She knew we’d be down. We always went straight down when we were expected to as that was what Father wanted from us. He didn’t want to be kept waiting. He never did.
I apologised to Sister again and offered her a hug. She accepted my apology and put her arms around me. I held her tight, clinging to the memory of how it felt to cuddle her when she was human. She used to be so caring. She used to be so gentle. So kind. Now she’s broken. Just like Mother and Father. I’m battling with my conscience so as not to follow their lead.
Humanity will be the death of me but without it, I’d feel lost anyway so what does it matter?
Most Important Meal of the Day
Father was sitting at the head of the table with a smile on his face by the time Sister and I walked into the room. At first, I thought he was being strange - perhaps lost the plot entirely - but then I realised why and did my best to ignore it (and the sounds).
Sister and I took our seats opposite each other. In front of us, on the table, were bowls full of off-cuts from last night. I looked up at Sister who wasted no time in digging in, using her fingers as kitchen utensils. I chose not to. My mind was tormenting me with the expression on the meat’s face last night when it was all in one piece in the centre of the table.
It was missing from the table now of course. Where it had been bound, there were just dark patches from where it had leaked (piss and blood). I knew it smelt bad in here (in the whole house in fact) but I didn’t notice it anymore. At least I could be thankful for that.
Father grunted with satisfaction as he fisted a handful of meat into his gaping mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was the taste of the meat or the other goings on which made him grunt.
He realised he had made a noise and quickly cleared his throat as though the sounds were all part of the same action. Sister couldn’t help but laugh; a laughter stifled behind her hand.
“So how was your night, you two?” Father asked. He grunted again.
“Satisfactory!” Sister teased. I looked at her. She was staring directly at me with a knowing smile on her face. I smiled back at her. Not that I wanted to. I just didn’t want Father to think there was a problem. I suddenly flinched as I felt a foot dig into my crotch. Another glance towards Sister and she gave me a playful wink.
“Well the good news is that we still have a fair amount of food left in the kitchen,” Father said, in between grunts which seemed to be getting more frequent. “With that in mind I think it’ll be safe to say we don’t need to venture out today, Son, so the day is yours to do with as you please.”
The hunting trip cancelled thanks to the poor bastard who stumbled across the house yesterday.
“That’s good,” I told him. In some ways it was good and in other ways not so much. On the one hand it meant that I didn’t have to help hurt someone (if we even stumbled across a normal survivor out there as opposed to one of the infected) but - on the other hand - it meant that I’d definitely survive another day. Out there, there was always a strong possibility of running into a large group of the infected and getting torn from limb to limb. I was too afraid to take my own life but if this is how life is to be lived now, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if death did come along.
Father’s eyes