A Day In September - BTS Zombie au

20. Lost

Mara was afraid to stand and make the floor boards creak. She was afraid to sit and make the bed springs squeak. In a half delirious state, the girl was afraid that the nightmarish threat lurking just outside the lodge would hear her every move. The girl would talk to herself in a low hushed tone, attempting to make sense of the situation and her poor state of mind. The girl was afraid that even the rumbling of her starving stomach would be heard from outside. The walls felt paper thin, and the odds seemed to be stacked against her.

Just a week ago, the girl was confident, growing fond of the peaceful outdoors and the lush scenery, of the brightly freckled starry nights—of the solitude. Being alone wasn't so bad when surrounded by nothing—nothing other than nature itself and the changing seasons. When threats did not linger and there was nothing to be scared of; that is when tranquility steadily spread inside Mara's brain like a breath of fresh autumn air to her lungs.

Mara stared at the rotting, severed hand that lay on the porch. With a pale face she let go of the blinds, allowing them to close and plunging the room back into darkness.

One gift out of many.

For several days straight, he had been making appearances on the front yard of the lodge at odd hours of the morning, afternoon and night. He offered no warning, nothing like a schedule to which she could memorize to avoid bumping into him. She hid in her room, barricading herself in and covering anything that could let him see inside. The terrified girl was left to wait it out until the man eventually left. She never really knew when that was, as the girl opted to stay inside—indefinitely.

Mara watched the food slowly dwindle, and the fear of bumping into him suppressed any kind of hunger that the girl had. It wasn't long before the girl was down to the last rations of food and water. Nothing could make her step a single foot out. The severed, decaying hand left on the porch of the lodge sat beside all of the other gifts the man had left. Mara knew it was to mess with her head; that and the constant unwelcome visits were all a ploy to slowly kill her, to rid her of any sanity she had left.

Mara remembers feeling sick to her stomach when he'd first left a severed foot. The terror of what had happened sought after Mara even in her slumber. She often went a day without a wink of sleep, her mind so tired and paranoid and refusing to subject itself to terrifying nightmares. Every waking moment was filled with flashes of the gruesome sight. It had burned itself into her memory, and Mara wasn't sure she would ever be able to forget what she'd seen. The girl refrained from going outside, dreading what could come for her at any minute, or what could be there the moment she stepped foot out. That man, or whatever he was, found himself a home in the back of Mara's mind, where the thought of a slow and painful death constantly lingered like a foul stench.

Mara was no stranger to that sickening side of humanity, but it was only after the downfall of society that those people shamelessly paraded their deranged and twisted minds. Their idea of fun was to watching others succumb to their injuries. Death was not the objective but rather it was to make their victims wish they were dead. They made you beg for mercy until you were stripped from all dignity, all sense of self because now you were theirs. You were no longer an individual, you were property.

Mara was no stranger to it at all. In fact, she still had the scars on her ankles from being in shackles for too long: one of the few perks of being enslaved. The gut wrenching feeling was all too familiar. Now faced with a similar situation, this time in a place she should've felt safe in, those memories came flooding back so bitterly.

After a foot, came the leg.

Seeing as Mara didn't touch the gifts, the sick man continued to leave them on the porch, arranged neatly for a constant reminder. The flesh on the limbs was slowly rotting away, attracting other wild visitors that scavenged on the remains. Mara wished for them to eat faster—for the crows to fly away with the remains just so that she didn't have to see them every time she looked out the window. They were bad omens, and luck seemed to come seldom—just like today. Mara sat in bed with an insane craving for food, for anything she could get her hands on. However, she refrained from touching what little she had left, opting instead to wait—just a little more.