You Felt The Bite, Now You'll Be One

This is the End

If this event had happened before I saw that woman ripped to pieces, I might have laughed and thought I was going insane at age 10. Only, the thing is, this is reality at it's finest.

My senses told me to act quick, so I did. I let out a bloodcurdling scream that echoed all the way through the house, shaking the windows like crazy. My legs slowly backed away from him, letting my back come into contact with the wall beside our staircase. I couldn't breathe. Panic filled my chest as the monster I used to call my dad moved closer in on me. He was trudging in that slow, awful march that the walking dead do in the movies and TV shows. Left foot..right foot.. His mouth was open in an O shape, the skin stretched so painfully tight it could split in half any second now. Horrid gurgling noises sprouted from that mouth. They were awful enough to make anyone's gut wrench. I gulped, cringing at his death stare. Those eyes...

Before I could even breathe again, he was inches away from making me the main course of the evening. I sucked a gulp of air. ' Come on, Rayne. Think.'

Without any more hesitation, I crouched down on the floor before he could get a hold of my neck and kicked out a foot. My heel connected with what I assumed was a shin, and the walking corpse stopped dead in it's tracks, slightly stunned. I looked up and scanned it's confused face. It felt as if my tiny, 10-year-old heart was going to burst out of my chest. Then what would be the point of all this? He moved again, but also let out another god-awful moan before screaming. At least I think it was a scream. Those pitches were way too high for any man, even if my dad wasn't human anymore.

Terrified, I lurched towards the wooden stairs on my hands and knees, attempting to scramble up them on all limbs like a spider. I could feel the monster right behind me, just dying to get a small taste of my flesh (how colorful for a 10 year old, amirite. She's intelligent, mate). I had just placed my right hand at the top of the stairs when a larger, much stronger one clamped around my ankle and pulled. I shrieked and tried to break free of his grasp. "Dad" only pulled my ankle harder, causing me to lose my grip on the creaky, wooden step. I was yanked down. My face hit each and every step with a solid "thud" sending jolts of pain throughout my skull. I screamed and lashed out.

To my relief, I was freed from being pulled down by the zombie. But to my horror, his hand was still gripped around my ankle.

And the arm was ripped from it's socket.

I shrieked again and pried the now-rotting limb from my ankle. He was ready to attack me again. I could see it in his eyes. Those eyes..

Gritting my teeth, I swung out with the limb and smacked my dad across the face. He fell down and groaned, struggling to get up. Stunned, I just stood and watched. I just attacked my dad. No. No he isn't my dad anymore. Michael Winchester is long gone.

I stepped down from the staircase, ignoring the blood pounding through my skull causing it to ache so much, and walked over to the corpse. I raised the bloodied arm in the air and brought it down on his scrunched up face. Again. And again. It felt so natural. A wicked smile spread across my face. Tossing the limb aside, I lifted my foot in the air and giggled, bringing my foot down. It didn't take much to curb stomp that flesh maggot's skull and brains to mush.

Covered in brain matter and blood, I stepped away from the dead, dead body that was Michael Winchester. It wasn't until ten seconds after I stepped away from the body that reality hit me, and I sunk to my knees, crying and shaking in agony. My dad is dead, and I'm all alone.

Again.