The Sheriff's Daughter

Chapter Nine: Run For Your Life

Two hours later found me and Glenn sitting side by side in that dark hotel room that we started in. He had offered to take watch after I murdered Julio, but I declined. I never wanted to sleep, fearful of the soft brown eyes that I was certain would haunt me for the rest of eternity. Glenn tried his best to avoid the topic completely, talking about how we'd get out of the hotel and how we shouldn't bother with checking any of the shops as we made our way back. I tried to listen, but my thoughts always drifted away from him and to the dead boy that rested on the floor above us.

I had to have done the right thing. Surely killing him mercifully was better than letting him suffer for who knows how long, only to have to put him down before his corpse tried to devour us. Still, my thoughts stayed with the boy I barely knew. I couldn't imagine the pain he must have felt, seeing his mother crushed under that drawer set. I couldn't even begin to fathom the pain that he must have felt inside his body from the bites of his own mother. Did the virus hurt when it started taking over your system, or was it jut the bites themselves that hurt? I hoped I'd never know.

"Anna?"

Still, Julio had looked like he was in intense pain. One of the men at camp had said that the bites made you feel like you were burning alive, like acid was being injected under your skin. At least that's how his friend had described it before they died.

"Anna?"

My skin crawled as I imagined it - the sting of teeth, the terrible feeling of your skin and muscle being pulled away, the feeling of burning licking each individual nerve, coupled with undeniable pain and terror. . .

"Anna‽"

I jerked back into reality, seeing Glenn crouched down in front of me. He looked nervous and. . . scared?

"What?" I asked.

"You got this really distant look in your eyes and stopped responding. You're scaring me, An."

"It's not my fault."

Glenn seemed confused, but I didn't want to elaborate. I didn't want to tell him that I was scaring myself.

"Are you okay?"

I plastered a smile on my face. "I'm always okay, didn't you know?"

Glenn didn't seem at all convinced that I was okay, not that it seemed to matter. A thought struck me and a feeling of panic encircled my brain.

"When we get back to camp, don't tell anyone about what happened. Don't tell them about - " my voice died in my throat. But Glenn knew exactly what I meant. Don't tell them that I'm a murderer.

I pictured Carl's horrified face, his blue eyes wide as he stumbled away from me - he couldn't know what I had done. Neither could Mom. Not even Shane.

Glenn hesitated. "Shouldn't Shane and Lori know?"

"No. No one but us."

"You killed someone. I think they have the right to know."

When you hold your emotions in. . . When that rubber band around your brain keeps stretching until it's about to pop. . . You know you're in for a terrible time.

"Like I had the right to know that they were fucking?"

Glenn sat back, looking shocked. "What?"

I glared at him, the pain and anger I had felt towards them escaping me and lashing out at Glenn. "Oh, you didn't know? My dad dies and my mom doesn't even let his bed get cold before she's allowing his best friend in! And to hell with Shane too! Neither of them should have done this!"