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I had just gotten out of surgery, and it was absolutely awful. Abby let Dad take me back to our cabin, and I have to say it was really nice compared to what I’ve had to live in for nearly a month.

            I lay in my comfy bed with tight bandages around my stomach and thigh, and Dad was just outside of my door in the living room. “Dad?” I called.

            Like a speeding bullet, Dad ran into my room. “Yes?” He asked grateful that I was alive.

            “I’m hungry,” I smiled, “I haven’t eaten in almost three days.”

            Dad smiled at me, “Abby said no solid foods until dinner time, but I’ll see if I can find some soup.”

            He was just about to walk out of my bedroom, but I stopped him. “Dad,” I asked worriedly, “Have you found somebody by the name of John Murphy?”

            Dad leaned against the door frame, and demanded, “Describe him.”

            I smiled, and I softly explained, “He’s just a little shorter than you, dark blue eyes, slim, his hair was slicked back and hung just below his ears, and he has a big pointy nose.”

            “I’ll look for him,” Dad smiled, and then walked out of my room.

            Once Dad was out of the cabin, I could finally release all of my pent up emotions. Tears rolled down my face, and I couldn’t stop thinking about those eleven kids.

            I would have much rather had them taken by the mountain men than to be slaughtered by the grounders, because at least then they would have stood a fighting chance. None of us stood any chance with a grounder, and these were scared and confused kids; they were looking for me.

            They knew I ran back inside because I was scared, yet they stayed out there being torn limb by limb by the vicious grounders. All of them were massacred, and I deserved to be dead with them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get their screams out of my head; they were the screams of scared children.

“Eve,” Dad asked as he knocked on the door, “Eve honey, are you alright?” Not even letting me answer, Dad opened the door, and saw me crying. He sat the tin cup down on the table next to my bed, and then he kneeled down next to me. Dad took my hand, and rubbed my head with the other. “What’s wrong?” He asked caringly.

            I cried breathlessly, “I left those kids to die, just because I was scared.”

            Dad quietly explained, “You what you thought was right—”

            I cut him off, “No Dad, I didn’t. I did what I did, because I was selfish and only cared about myself. The grounders are vicious, so I know I let those eleven kids be massacred,” I cried, “When I hid in the dropship I heard them scream my name, but I was too scared to go back out there. They had families coming down, but instead of saving them I let them be murdered.”

            “You’re going to be ok,” Dad cooed, “You’re safe now.”

            I insisted horrified, “No we’re not, the mountain men are out there.”

            All of the color drained from Dad’s face, and he whispered, “Mountain men?”

            “They took everyone who was still alive,” I explained shaking from terror, “I hid on the second floor of the dropship, and I saw everything. When everyone walked out of the dropship they dropped this red gas on them, and once everyone was unconscious they dragged them away.”

            Dad was still horror struck, and he nervously asked, “Why are they called mountain men?”

            “They’re from Mount. Weather,” I explained in horror.

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sorry it's so short, but you get what you get and you don't throw a fit.

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