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If anyone were to ask Zack when it started, he would have said it was the night he rescued her from the asylum.
That’s as far back as he could remember. And even then, he would attribute it to the thrill of their escape and prior reunion.
They were running down some unfamiliar alleys with the darkness covering their silhouettes and the sound of the police siren dampening their steps. The chase had been going on for half an hour, and Zack was starting to feel the strain of their continuous running. He pushed on, though, as he always did.
Her small hand securely in his grasp, he kept on tugging it with barely any resistance. That was until he heard a thud and a small whimper. He turned around only to find her sprawled on the ground, her white nightgown looking almost bright in the darkness.
“Tch. Ray, get up!” He wasn’t as loud as he could be, if only to keep the police off their track.
He heard something vaguely resembling an “Okay” before she lifted herself on her elbows, her face dirty from falling directly into the muddy ground. She managed to drag herself to the nearby wall, sitting with her back to it and hugging a bloody knee.
That was not all, though, for the soles of her feet looked bloody too amongst all the mud. Her face remained unchanged as ever, but she was panting heavily with exhaustion.
“Zack.” Her soft voice dragged his attention. “I don’t think I can keep running anymore.” She stated matter-of-factly, looking him in the eye.
He frowned. “Shit, Ray. Not now.” But still kneeled beside her, looking at her wounds. He didn’t know how to properly treat them. Would she be able to if he handed her some of his bandages?
She spoke first. “Leave me here. Keep running.”
“Hell no!” Was his automatic response. She didn’t flinch.
“Look, they’re just gonna bring me back. It’s fine.” She explained.
“Like hell it is!” He was starting to get pissed off.
“If they catch you, they’re gonna kill you.”
“Not if I kill them first.” He deflected.
“Zack.” She sounded firmer now, like giving an order. He hated orders. “Please.” Her voice was begging, even if her face said nothing. Then, that odd look she gave him at the church. “Don’t die for me.”
Zack gritted his teeth. Rationally, she was right. She was always right. But he wasn’t a rational man.
“We’re making it out of here alive. Both.” He didn’t let her protest, grabbing her by the shoulders and leaning her body towards his. Then he picked her up and continued running.
Her body pressed against his chest — warm, soft, alive. He remembered carrying her just like this before, when she was slowly dying. A lump made its way to his throat, but he swallowed it back. Not this time.
Her weight didn’t hinder him at all, even though his heart beat faster and every breath was shallower. Still, he kept going.
He kept going until the sirens started to fade and the moon started to fall.
They made it.
It wasn’t until an hour later that they found a shelter. An abandoned house in the midst of other abandoned houses. No one would look inside.
He kicked open the door —it broke, of course it did— and looked inside. There was nothing but the creaky floor and dust.
He entered cautiously, avoiding the broken wood where the floor had given in. He found a place he deemed suitable —a corner on the farthest left— and carefully deposited the girl he was carrying. He immediately felt cold.
Her body was limp, but her chest heaved with every breath. He sat down beside her and allowed himself a moment to relax. When he finally looked over, she was shivering. Without a word, he took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. The shivering stopped.
He didn’t mind the cold night air; years of living in the streets made him insensible to those things. Finally he closed his eyes, and sleep came easily.
He woke up feeling strangely warm, even though it was still nighttime when he opened his eyes. He felt pressure in his chest, right above his heart; when he looked, she was snuggling against him, peacefully sleeping.
Every nerve in his body told him to push her away, to keep her at arm’s length. But his instincts were soothed and his heart calm, so he let her.
He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
When he woke up she wasn’t anywhere in sight. His normally sharp senses should have alerted him the moment she moved, but he was in such a deep sleep that he didn’t notice. He hadn’t slept like that in years.
Then he heard her voice.
“Zack.” She had made her way to a different room, still holding his jacket over her shoulders. She approached him and started to get it off when he interrupted.
“Keep it.” She looked at him with what appeared to be surprise in her unchanging face — he was getting better at recognizing her emotions. “We need new clothes anyway.”
She nodded and obeyed, putting the jacket back on.
He got up. “Let’s keep moving. Can’t stay in one place too long.” He moved past her and the shadow of a smile crossed her lips.
And then it was gone.
A few days later, they had new clothes. They discarded the previous ones in a dumpster — she proposed to burn them, but he flinched and she threw them in.
He was wearing a different hoodie and a different pair of jeans. The face mask had been her idea — “You’re easily recognizable.” She had said.
Her clothes were more reminiscent of a girl her age. From any angle, she looked like an average pre-teen.
The store they had robbed had no alarms —she chose that one—, but when they were getting out, a single person saw them.
He was about to reach for his weapon when he felt a tug on his clothes. He looked over and she was shaking her head. “Don’t.” She mouthed. “Too much attention.”
He gritted his teeth. “Let’s bail.” And they ran.
They stopped a few streets over — always in the shadow, even in the dark. It was only then that he realized they were holding hands. He recoiled like it burned.
She didn’t ask.
They needed money. It would make it easier to survive.
The past week, they had been surviving by stealing any food they could find and sleeping in whatever shelter was available — such as abandoned houses or buildings. The only condition was having a roof above their heads.
But the problem of having Ray around was that she had the same necessities as any normal human being.
She had insisted that it was fine, that she could handle it, but she was already looking worse for wear. And it had only been a week.
His usual plan was to kill someone and steal their money. The problem was that, in 7 out of 10 cases, the victim had little to no money. And it brought attention to the sector. When that happened, he could live on the streets just fine, lying low.
Rachel had the idea of selecting the victim after some digging around. That way, they would only have to kill one person to get the spoils of ten random victims. And it wouldn’t be too obvious that there was a killer on the loose if victims appeared sporadically instead of every other day.
But for this plan to work as intended, they needed to lay a few rules:
First, no locals. If a local went missing, it would be easier to notice than if an outsider did.
Second, individual people. One person would be easier to get rid of than several, nevermind that group killings gathered a lot of attention.
And third, no more scythe. Because using the same modus operandi would give away the killer’s identity. For that, Ray still had the knife he had given her. Or Zack could kill them with his bare hands —good thing his hands were covered in bandages, huh?— or whatever they’d find lying around.
After hearing about the new plan, Zack had smiled like a child and called her a genius. Then he lifted her and spun around in circles as a celebration, effectively dizzying her, but every time she remembered that moment it was with fondness.
After agreeing on starting the investigation the next day, Zack stayed up almost all night thinking about new killing methods. It was something he hadn’t done since he started murdering people at a young age, before deciding on his signature weapon.
The next day, they agreed on Rachel getting the info during the day and carrying out the murder during the night. Everything was settled.
Except nothing went according to plan.
Ray started scouting the neighbourhood with Zack following her not too far behind, staying in the shadows — “Yer just gonna get snatched up by some weirdo.” He had said.
That was definitely the reason and not that having her out of sight set off alarm bells in his head, reminding him of the time they spent apart — he had to threaten a novice guard to get the information on her health status and location.
Following from a few feet behind, he caught the exact moment the weirdo —an old, lecherous man— tried to get her into his house. He tried sweet-talking her first and when it didn’t work, he tried by force.
From where he stood, he could only grit his teeth and look as the man got dangerously close to getting her inside — a hand covering her mouth while the other twisted her arm. In that moment, there was only one thing on his mind:
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
But she said that under no circumstances should he perform the murder in broad daylight.
KillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhimKillhim
Rachel was almost at his doorstep, struggling to free herself.
killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill
Their eyes made contact, and he thought he saw panic in them.
Then everything went red.
He came to his senses standing next to a dead man. That weirdo, specifically.
Ray was kneeling next to the corpse, searching for something useful.
He put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched only to immediately look at him with a glare — or something close to it, considering her face didn’t change much. But he got the distinct feeling that the sentiment was the same.
“I told you not in daylight. Not locals.” She reproached him. It was the first time since the orphanage that anyone did that.
He felt outraged. “Just saved your ass, brat.” She went back to searching.
Luckily for them, the man had a pretty thick wallet. Rachel pocketed the item and stood up.
“Now let’s go before someone comes out.” She still sounded upset — or at least he thought it was like that, given it was her.
He was still reeling with anger, but it dissipated the moment a woman’s scream reached his ears. They’d have been discovered.
“Shit.” He quickly grabbed her and ran out of there. She didn’t protest.
They didn’t stop until they abandoned the neighbourhood, and by then it was nighttime.
Not too far from there was a sketchy motel, in which they silently checked in for the night. The receptionist looked at them suspiciously; it was probably very uncommon to get a pair like them.
Rachel was quick on the uptake. “Is this place okay, big bro? Seems kinda scary.” She grabbed his sleeve and the receptionist quickly accepted the money while handing out the key.
The room wasn’t too big, but it had a bed and a bathroom attached, and even an old TV. Zack looked at the place as if it were his first time seeing a proper bedroom, and it dawned on her that it probably was, based on everything she knew about him and the state of his floor in the building.
“...Sorry.” She murmured.
“What?” He was looking at the TV, playing with the dial.
“Sorry, Zack.” Now he paid attention to her, looking like he didn’t know what she was apologizing for. “You really did save me.”
“Ray—”
“But I need you to also worry about yourself. If they catch you, they’re gonna kill you.” There was the same firmness in her voice from when she told him to abandon her. His stomach churned.
“Told ya. Not if I kill them first—”
“Zack.” She realized she did it again. “...Sorry. Please forgive me.” The way the words slipped so easily out of her made him feel nauseous.
“T’s alright, kiddo.”
They ordered take-out and she took a shower, encouraging him to do the same. He decided to do it the next day, while she was sleeping.
They argued over the bed until he pushed her over and she couldn’t get out. He snorted — “Yer the one that couldn’t sleep on the floor, I can sleep anywhere.” It wasn’t a lie and she knew it, so she dropped the subject.
Zack woke up to the rustling of some sheets. In the end, he chose a spot near the door and made himself comfortable there, but it didn’t last too long. He sensed the moment Rachel started trashing on the bed, which prompted him to check on her.
She was tossing from side to side, little whimpers escaping her lips sporadically. It was obvious it was a nightmare. He was considering waking her up when he heard with deafening clarity: “Zack, no.”
The hell’s this kid dreaming about?
Was she afraid of him?
He didn’t wait to find out, instead just putting one hand on her shoulder and shaking her lightly. She woke up with a jolt.
“Zack!” She wasn’t even looking at him, her eyes unfocused and disoriented. It must have been the Zack from her dream.
“Ray, you okay?” His voice seemed to take her back to reality. She turned to look at him and he could see clearly the tears rolling down her cheeks. He had thought she wasn’t capable of crying.
But he couldn’t even try to understand when she wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him while shaking all over. “Don’t die, please don’t die, Zack, please…” She pleaded fervently, maybe to that imaginary god of hers.
But he wasn’t even listening anymore because every muscle in his body tensed up, his heart beating erratically. That seemed to somehow calm her, as after a few unbearable minutes —hours, days— she stopped shaking.
He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she released him, looking at his bandage-covered face like she didn’t believe he was real. It made him shift uncomfortably but ultimately, he put a hand on her head, stroking her hair. He wondered how it would feel on his bare hands.
“...Bad dream, huh?” She gave him the tiniest of nods, as if she was afraid he would disappear if she moved too much.
They spent the next few minutes in silence, him idly stroking her hair which seemed to soothe her back into sleep. She slowly lay down until she was back in her original position. He was about to go back to his spot when he felt a tug on his clothes.
“Stay…”
He hesitated. What did this kid want from him?
Eventually he gave in, sitting on the floor next to the bed and putting one arm on top of it, his hand lingering near her head. She nuzzled into it and finally went back to sleep. He did the same.
The next morning his arm hurt like hell, and he had no one to blame but himself. For giving in to the brat’s whims.
He looked at her and she was still sleeping, apparently nightmare-free. He slowly removed his arm from the bed, wincing in pain at the movement.
He decided he needed that shower.
When he came out of the bathroom, arm sore but otherwise back to normal, he found her wide awake. She was looking at him like he had grown a second head. Then he realized:
Shit. The bandages.
Suddenly very aware of his burnt skin, he wanted nothing more than to hide it. But her gaze held him in place; there was no disgust or fear, just pure awe. She got out of bed and approached him slowly, like one would an injured animal — not that he knew, animals always ran away from him.
He could only watch as she got closer, closer, and closer. Closer than any human being had ever gotten to him, not without dying. Finally, right in front of him, she extended her hand towards his face.
His heart was thrumming in his ears, unbearably loud. But before she touched his skin —burnt, foul, disgusting—, she stopped and opened her mouth.
“...May I?” It was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. And, at that exact moment in time, he realized he didn’t want to back away. He wanted her to touch him. She, the only person to consider him a human being, to seek him instead of running away.
And so, he nodded. Hesitant, afraid, but still wanted.
He sucked in a breath when her fingers —smooth and warm— made contact with his cheek —burnt, disgusting, cold—. He almost leaned into it, but her voice stopped him.
“Who did it?”
“Some guy.”
“Name?”
“Dunno.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.” She pursed her lips and he elaborated. “I killed him.”
“Good.” Her voice was firm again, and it gave him shivers this time.
And then, the bubble popped. “Room’s due in 10 minutes!” The voice of the receptionist boomed outside the door, breaking the spell.
He turned around so quickly he almost got dizzy, and closed the door. Inside, his heart was beating wildly.
She’s gonna kill me.
Outside, the receptionist was waiting with crossed arms. “5 minutes late.” She said simply, extending her hand. He dropped the key, glaring at her. “Out. Before I call the police.”
She continued eyeing them suspiciously as they left. Luckily, she didn’t call the cops on them.
Two weeks later, they decided to leave the city. The investigation had gone cold, even though there were still several Missing Child posters. The police didn’t stop searching for him, though. But no one would pay attention to two strangers boarding the late-night bus, right?
They still had money left from the weirdo —remembering him made him angry, he would kill him again if he could—, which they used to buy two tickets and some snacks, and saved the rest. Fortunately, the service didn’t require an ID to be used.
Bystanders looked at them and whispered, and it made him want to kill them all. That is, until he felt a tug on his clothes. No, not now. He learned his lesson. Not in daylight, not groups of people. He just had to bear with it for a few minutes.
“Destination?” Asked the ticket seller. He had no idea.
Rachel intervened and named a place he didn’t know. The seller printed the tickets and handed them over. They took them and left.
It was late at night when the bus arrived at the station. They attempted to look as normal as possible, just a pair of siblings boarding the bus. It was her idea; the trip was long and someone was bound to ask questions.
They took two seats at the back —she on the window, he on the aisle—, and waited.
Neither of them was awake when the bus reached the midpoint, leaving them as the only passengers left.
Zack jolted awake. “Zack. We’re here.” Rachel was poking him on the side, trying to get him to get up from the seat.
He groaned and stretched his arms. He was still half-asleep when the bus started honking. “C'mon, get out. Don't have all day here.” It was the driver. Zack made a point of showing him the middle finger when he got down, with Ray following right behind him.
He squinted his eyes at the bright sunlight from outside, trying to get a look at the surroundings. They were in a small rural bus station, surrounded by houses with either big gardens or backyards. The fresh air was weird in his lungs but not unpleasant, he decided.
“Where the hell did you bring us to?” He asked without looking at her, still taking in the surroundings.
She said the name of the town but he didn't even register it. The important part is what came after: “...It's my mother's hometown.”
He turned his neck so fast it actually made an unpleasant sound, but he didn't pay it any attention. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Why here?” He was sure she didn't want any reminder of her shit parents.
“I know a place.” She said simply, without looking at him. Then she started walking, guiding him by the hand.
After walking for almost an hour, they made it to the far end of the town, and from there on, the only scenery around them was an incredibly big forest. She kept walking, though, and so he followed.
Another hour and a half passed before anything changed; at the right of the road there was a clearing, and within it, an abandoned-looking house. She approached it with him in tow, lifted the third plant pot —which had a long-withered plant inside— and retrieved a key. She used it to open the front door.
She stood beside the door, still outside, apparently waiting for him to enter. He did so and she followed suit, closing the door behind her.
Zack looked at the fully furnished inside, looking astonished that such a place existed at all. “How'd ya know ‘bout this place?”
She didn't answer immediately, prompting him to look at her. After a few seconds, she finally spoke: “It's my grandparents' house. My mother's parents.” She looked the same as always, but he could feel that something was upsetting her. “We used to come here all the time when I was a kid, before… You know.”
She didn't elaborate, and he had a feeling she was talking about the time before everything went to shit. Back when her family was like in that photo. He felt a knot in his stomach; so there was a time when she had been normal, she had been happy. He'd never have guessed based on her current state.
He forced himself to say something. “Yer still a kid, brat.” It came out humorless, dry.
She nodded. “Yeah.” And then more silence. After a while, she continued. “They died. They were on their way home from visiting us when, in the middle of the road, a hitchhiker made them stop. He got in the car and killed them, tossing their bodies aside. No one found them until a week later.”
There was no emotion at all in her, neither her expression nor her voice. It was like she went back to being a dull doll. He didn't like it.
“I think that's when my mother started drinking, and soon after my father too.” He had an idea of what was going on in her house; it was sick. He felt vile rising in his throat. “The rest… You know about it.”
He knew. He knew about the abuse, the complicit silence, the impossibility of getting out of there.
He had never felt guilty about killing before, and with total honesty he didn't care for repentance. But she had suffered because of it; her life had spiraled down because of someone like him. He felt sick.
“Then why do you stay with me, Ray?” Silence. “Why, Ray?” More silence. “Ray?!”
“...I don't know.” She said that in a tiny voice.
It was then that he was reminded of how much of a kid she actually was. She was forced to grow up too early, too suddenly.
And some people took advantage of that. He was reminded of the doctor; the sick, disgusting bastard that triggered the events leading to their meeting. Thinking about it, he should thank him for bringing her in; maybe make his death a little less slow, less painful.
But then he remembered everything he did to Rachel and decided that, whatever good he had done, was way surpassed by the bad stuff.
He strode towards her, reaching her in a couple of steps. She barely had time to raise her gaze when he pushed her head towards himself, trapping her in a sort of tight embrace.
She didn't complain, instead finally acknowledging her grief. For what it could've been were it not for everything going downhill. She cried in silence.
Zack could feel her trembling against him, hear her little sobs. His heart hurt, and he didn’t even know why. He’d almost given up on understanding what happened to him when she was near.
After a while the crying stopped, and he almost regretfully let go of her. She looked at him and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards. He pretended not to see that.
“Yer folks had a nice place going on.” He changed the subject, looking around. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I was thinking we could live here…” She was playing with her fingers. Cute. He pretended that thought didn’t cross his mind. “If you want to.” She sounded shy, although it was hard to discern.
Well, he’d have a lot of time to figure it out. “Let’s do it.” He smirked. She seemed surprised to hear it.
“Thanks…”
“Don’t sweat it, kiddo. Yer doing us a favor.” He barely realized that he was talking like it was a permanent thing. Like there was an us. He felt tingly.
“Right.” She nodded. “We should clean first. It’s been abandoned for a while.” Then, looking directly at him. “I’m… gonna need your help. There are things that I can’t move by myself.”
“Yer the boss.” He joked. “Let’s get started.”
They spent the rest of the day cleaning up the place. Most of the furniture was ancient, but sturdy. Even the appliances still worked.
By the end of the day, they’d manage to clean most of the living space, save for the bedrooms. They ended up falling asleep on the sofa.
The next morning, he woke up to the sound of nature. It was new, but not unpleasant. He wasn’t even surprised to find her using his lap as a pillow. He snorted.
“Wake up, kiddo…” Instead of shaking her off, he started stroking her hair. “...Ray.” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to call her name, but didn’t have time to think about it. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly.
She seemed a bit disoriented at first, but then looked up at him and her lips curled slightly upwards. “Morning, Zack.” He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
“Get off me. We still have some cleaning to do.” She nodded and got up from his lap. He immediately missed the warmth.
They finished cleaning and the place looked like new. Like it never had been abandoned at all.
He found her lingering in one of the rooms. She was looking at an old photo. He approached and she put it back into place. “Done?” He nodded. “Then let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
She walked past him and out of the room. He took a glance at the photo: An old man and an old woman were standing in the back, while in the front there was a younger man holding hands with a younger woman who looked a lot like Rachel. She was holding a toddler with her other hand. Everyone looked happy.
He recognized the big blue eyes and blonde hair of the toddler. Ray. Then the woman holding her must have been her mother. He imagined that’s what she would look like in the future. He found himself looking forward to it.
Then he looked at the young man; her father, he assumed. He didn’t look bad, or at least not how he imagined someone who murdered his own wife and attempted to kill his child should look.
He tore his eyes away from the photo. Surely she was holding onto that memory, because everything else was fucked up. “Zack, you’re coming…?” She called from the living room.
“Goin’.” He left the room.
They discussed what comes next over the few snacks they had left. They agreed on going once a week to town for supplies, starting now. She said she’d like to start a garden, reasoning that it would get them extra food over time. She also said that to get meat, it would be better to hunt in the surrounding forest. “Piece of cake.” He had said, even though he had never hunted animals. Shouldn’t be too different from hunting humans.
“And…” She continued after the hunting thing. “Sometimes people come to this forest. If you want to, you could kill them.” She said that so nonchalantly that it reminded him she was also a murderer. By necessity, but still.
Later that day, they headed for the town’s grocery store. They had agreed that she would buy the supplies —Zack requested lots of soda and cereal— and he would chaperone. “People will call the police if they see me shopping alone.”
While Ray went off to find the supplies, Zack stood in a corner where he could watch her movements. The store wasn’t so big that they’d lost each other, but he had grown used to keeping an eye on her whenever they were outside.
But he could still see how other people looked at him. He was half expecting to get kicked out, but the people just looked at him weirdly and then moved on, continuing what they were doing. At least they minded their own business. Good.
After 30 minutes or so, Rachel came back. “Done.” She was carrying at least 5 bags full of groceries, evidently struggling.
“Give ‘em to me.” He just took all the bags from her arms; they weighed like nothing.
They walked back to the house without a hitch.
And for a moment, everything was fine.
Until that same night, when they went to sleep each in their own room. Again, they argued over the beds — “Take the bigger one, you wouldn’t fit in the other one anyway.” Was the final argument.
Zack stayed in the main room, the one that belonged to her grandparents, she had said. And she took her mother’s childhood room.
But Zack couldn’t sleep at all. He was restless, anxiously tossing around. He wanted to think it was not because she was in another room where he couldn’t see her. It was not because he missed her warmth when they were sleeping next to each other. Surely it was something else, anything else.
Then he heard soft steps walking towards his room, and soon she was at his doorstep. He knew exactly what was going on.
“More nightmares.” It wasn’t even a question, but she nodded anyway.
“Could I stay here? …Please.” She didn’t even have to ask.
He snorted and moved to one side of the bed, leaving her space. She climbed onto it on the other side, as far away as possible. Then, she extended her hand. He hesitated for a second before extending his towards her, almost touching. She grabbed it, intertwining their fingers, and finally fell asleep.
He followed soon after.
A month later, they had settled into a comfortable routine.
She was in charge of cooking — she wasn’t very good at it, but she could handle the fire. They’d have breakfast and then he would go outside to hunt. She had taught him to make traps — she was very good, but he already knew that.
Around noon, he would come back with whatever he managed to hunt — sometimes deer, boar, and even one time he caught some kind of bird. He was becoming good at it; it didn’t give him the thrill of hunting and killing a person, but it was close enough.
Still, sometimes he would go out at night and come back soaked in blood, without any prey. He’d have a maniac smile and she’d be waiting by the living room; she never asked any questions.
In the afternoon, she’d teach him how to write and read, making use of the old books scattered around the house. Soon, he learned how to write his name and hers; he showed off proudly the first time he managed to write Zack and below Ray in crooked letters. She asked to keep it and hung it on the living room.
Sometimes he would catch her looking at it and smiling, but pretend he didn’t see anything when she turned around. He convinced himself it wasn’t good enough.
At nighttime, they would pretend to go to sleep each in their own room, but later he would hear her approaching and make room for her. She would silently climb up as far as possible, but would fall asleep with their fingers intertwined.
The next morning, they would wake up right next to each other. Most of the time, she would be snuggling up to his chest or their legs would be tangled. He didn’t mind it.
They became so comfortable around each other that often they found themselves sharing even personal space; if he sat on the sofa she would sit right next to him, almost on his lap, if she was busy doing something —gardening, cooking, reading— he would place his hands on her shoulders and his head atop of hers, asking what she’s doing.
In other words, they had become inseparable.
It dawned on him one day she was gardening and he was sitting on the porch, watching her back. The day was almost over and he was done with his writing and reading exercises — she assigned them to him. He wasn’t much of a thinking person, but that day in particular his mind wandered; specifically, to her.
He cared about the kid— No, Ray. Only Ray. But he already knew that; he wouldn’t have handed himself over to save her life if he didn’t. He wouldn’t have gone back for her.
But this was different. He discovered himself gravitating more and more towards her, wanting to be around her, wanting to keep her close. He was getting attached.
And what’s worse, he didn’t want to kill her.
He realized that after seeing her out of the corner of his eye several times, smiling. And he felt nothing; not the usual rage that drove him to kill, not even a bit of annoyance. He actually liked it, and found himself smiling too.
It was nauseating. He hated liars, and he felt like one already.
“I’ll kill you when you smile for me.”
That was the promise, the oath between them. The only thing keeping them together.
He hated it.
She probably still wanted to die, to be killed by him. And only him, she had said.
Just the thought of having to kill her someday made his stomach sink, his heart ache.
He wanted that time to never come. To freeze time. To stay like this forever.
But it was selfish of him, and while he never claimed to be selfless, he wanted to be, just for once. For her.
So he’d have to bury his feelings and make her wish come true.
“Zack!” She called for him. “Help…?”
She was trying to lift a shovel that looked entirely too heavy for her. He chuckled.
“Alright, alright. Comin’.” He got up to help her, lifting the shovel with ease.
“Thanks.” And she smiled. No way in hell it wasn’t good enough. He smiled too.
“No problem, kid— Ray.”
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he’d get over it. For sure.
Tomorrow.