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Survi
Survivor guilt or survivor's guilt (also survivor syndrome, survivor's syndrome, survivor disorder and survivor's disorder) happens when individuals feel guilty after they survive a tragic, near death, or traumatic event when others perished.
“When you get bit?!”
“You were getting all those zombies but one of them got really close.”
“Julie, this will be our last stand.”
“I love you, Mr. Polar Bear… Let’s do this thing!”
Those conversations ran through Mr. Polar Bear’s head again and again as he watched Julep was shot in the chest.
“No! Julep!” Mr. Polar Bear roared, tearing through the last few guards.
Her body landed with a thud against the concrete. The bite mark on her arm glistened a nasty yellowy-green colour, the colour of rotting flesh. A stark contrast to the dark red of her blood that was falling from her gunshot wound and other injuries. He sheltered her body with his, a panicked look in his eyes.
“Julie, we fix it.” Mr. Polar Bear whimpered, putting a paw over the wound.
Julep shook her head slowly, one hand laid on top of his paw. “Mr–Mr. Polar Bear, it’s okay.” She coughed, a soft smile on her lips.
“Please! I love you” He begged, ears flattened against his head.
She lifted a hand to hold Mr. Polar Bear’s head. “I–I love you too, th–thank you for showing m–me what true love feels like.” Julep whispered, eyes drooping.
“Julie,” Mr. Polar Bear whined as he watched her eyes close. “Julep!” He roared, feeling her hand slip from his head.
He licked at her face, just like he had a million times to wake her up. She didn’t stir, didn’t wake up or push his face away, didn’t pull him closer to cuddle, she didn’t move. In his grief, he lost the abiltiy to hold himself up. Mr. Polar Bear laid there, snuggled up to Julep’s limp, bloody body. As her body grew colder, so did Mr. Polar Bear’s want to live. Even her scent was fading fast, being replaced with the distinct smell of death. He shut his eyes and hoped he would open them to reveal this was all some sort of twisted nightmare.
He didn’t. Instead he woke up to the smell of Julep, but the male version and the half American version. Anger flooded him, leading to him to rise up on his hind legs.
“Go away!” He roared, a hollow feeling ringing in his chest.
The little boy jumped, but his father barely even flinched. Instead he held his hands up.
“Woah Mr. Polar Bear! We’re not gonna hurt you, we wanna help!” The man reasoned.
Mr. Polar Bear grunted in reply. “Me no want help. Me want Julep.”
He watched the man and the boy look down at Julep’s body. Both wearing matching looks of devastation and sadness. The next moment, Mr. Polar Bear felt something hit his neck.
“Why did you shoot him?! I told you I was handling it Carol!” He heard the man yell as his vision started to go black at the edges.
Maybe this Carol had given him the gift of death.
“I don’t care if it was just a tranquilnizer! You can’t just go shooting living things!”
Or maybe not.
~~~~~~~~~~
Mr. Polar Bear woke up in a small enclosure. It smelt like fake grass and medical equipment, the kind that Julep would use when he got scratched by zombies.
“Julep! Where was she?” He thought, then he noticed the bandages on his paws, then he remembered what had happened.
The zombies, the security guards, the blood, the gunshot. Mr. Polar Bear began to pace in his enclosure. How could he have been so neglectful? It was his job to protect her and he let her get bit by that zombie. He should have forced her to go with her brother when the guards came for them. He could have dealt with them, why would he let her fight? Why didn’t he stop the bullet from hitting her? Why did she die but he got to live? It wasn’t fair, he didn’t want to be on a planet without Julep.
That’s when he heard a door slam, the faint smell of half Julep, half American, Julep’s nephew. Mr. Polar Bear didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t Julep, so he laid down in the furthest corner of the enclosure, facing away from the boy. He listened to the footsteps get closer, then heard a knocking on the glass.
“Mr. Polar Bear?” A small voice called. “I brought you something to eat… and a coca cola.”
Mr. Polar Bear didn’t move, instead he hoped the boy would go, there was no point to living without Julep.
“Okay, I’ll just leave it here.” The boy informed.
He listened to what sounded like a flap opening, something sliding across the floor then the flap closing. Next footsteps getting further away and a door closing. Mr. Polar Bear still didn’t move, instead, he fell asleep dreaming of the life he and Julep should have had.
That was the routine for the next two days, the boy bringing in food, taking away the old food, and then leaving. On the fourth day after Julep’s death, it was different. Instead of the boy, it was the boy’s father, Julep’s brother.
“Come on Mr. Polar Bear, you have to eat.” The man’s voice instructed after pushing the food through the flap, like a father telling his child it was bathtime.
Mr. Polar Bear didn’t bother responding, just sighed and curled up tighter. He waited for the man to leave, but he didn’t. They stayed in silence for a while, Mr. Polar Bear could feel the man’s eyes on him.
“Julep wouldn’t want you to starve yourself.” The man stated, breaking the silence.
That snapped something in Mr. Polar Bear. He got up and flung himself at the wall of the enclosure.
“You don’t know what she want,” he snarled. “Julep no want anything. She gone.”
“She was my sister; I think I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t want you suffering.” The man replied, looking up at him. He placed a hand on the glass, where Mr. Polar Bear’s paw was. “She loved you, she'd want you to take care of yourself.”
Mr. Polar Bear huffed, moving off the glass and back to his corner. “I deserve suffering. I fail her.” He whimpered, curling up again.
The silence stretched for longer, if he didn’t know better, Mr. Polar Bear would have thought the man left.
“If you eat, I’ll tell you stories about her,” the man offered.
Now that peeked Mr. Polar Bear’s interest. He got up and walked back over to the edge of the enclosure.
“You will?” He questioned, not quite believing it.
“Only if you eat.” The man reiterated, gesturing to the bucket of fish that had sat ignored till now.
The bear snarled but picked up the bucket of fish and ate it all. He set the bucket back down and glared at the man in a way that said “Talk now.”
The man chuckled. “Alright, where shall I begin? Well, when we were little Julep loved to bake. The problem was, she was never very good at it.”
Mr. Polar Bear ended up lying down to listen to the man tell the story. The man went on to talk about how Julep nearly burnt the house down on two separate occasions, gave her whole class food poisoning, and many more. Listening to the man talk helped the ache in his heart. Maybe, just maybe, life was worth living after all.