Nothing's Written In Stone

01

[KAYLEE]

There are the lucky ones.

They're the ones who have no idea what real pain is. Maybe they think that it is at the time but it's nothing compared to what others have gone through. And I envy those people. I used to be like that, carefree and unknowing. But then the pain and fear clawed their way into my life and chained me down.

So you just smile. Smile because it confuses people. Smile because it's easier than explaining what's killing you inside. Monsters are real. They live inside of us. And sometimes, they win.

You know, the saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. When sad tries to bite its lip and not cry and smile and go, "No, I'm happy for you"? That's when it's really sad. But no one ever sees it, no one ever comes up to sad and asks if everything is okay. And all sad wants is when someone asks, "Are you okay?" and they answer "Yes", they want that person to look them in the eye and say, "Tell me the truth."

So many people depend on others for everything and when that person leaves, it lets them down. It makes them feel like they weren't enough when in fact it was the one who left that was the issue. They realize the burden they truly are so they leave. But you can't depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you're in darkness.

"Goddamnit, f*****gㅡ" My curse echoes throughout the forest as I stumble over an overgrown root. Clambering over the branches that scrap my denim-clad legs, my feet meet the even pavement of the road.

I push my fingers through my brown locks, frustrated I let myself get distracted in my own thoughts. Then squinting up at the sun, I realize I only have a couple more hours of daylight remaining to find a place to stay for the night. Abandoned cars and rough trees are getting old.

Most nights I don't sleep much anyway. Either it's the nightmares from my past that continue to haunt me or it's the fear of getting caught, by the dead or the living. And nowadays, people are worse.

The warm breeze hits my sweat covered face and the leaves rustle slightly. My hand drops to my hunting knife. Hidden underneath the whistle of the wind was the snapping of a branch and it sets my nerves on edge. Skimming the trees, colorful with life, I catch movement from behind one of the thicker trunks. A dark silhouette. A survivor.

The knife flies from my hand without hesitation. A yelp quickly follows. I make my way back into the woods and just beyond the treeline, a man rests on the ground with his hands pressing against the wound in his side and my knife lays in the leaves to his right.

He's probably close to my age with blond hair that grazes his shoulders and bright blue eyes. The light flannel accents the muscles in his arms and a pair of ripped jeans cover his legs. A gun holster is positioned on his hip bone and a knife is strapped to his tall boot. His body ripples with tension as I let myself glance over his figure.

"s**t," he groans. "What the s**t?"

I shrug and crouch in front of him. "Oops."

"You could've killed me."

"That was the point, dumbass," I remark. He sends a glare my way and grits his teeth. "Painful, huh?"

Picking up my knife, I let it roll over my knuckles and between my fingers. The bloody blade presses against the underside of my forearm as I grip the handle tightly.

"Look," pants the man. "I've got a . . . a group. If you need someplace to stayㅡ"

"I don't need anyone's help," I growl. The handle comes down on the side of his head harshly, knocking him out cold. As I stand and peer down at his unconscious body, I feel guilt rise up inside me. I swallow it down then search through my bag.

I may be a b***h but I'm not heartless.

Once all the objects to stitch him up are in my hands, I adjust myself and press the needle into his skin.

Why am I doing this? I mean. I'm the one who hurt him in the first place with the intent to kill. But I'm still human. I can't just leave him.

After stitching up the wound and covering it, I lean back against the tree across from the man, knife in hand. My eyes run over his body once again. You can find out a lot about people if you just look close enough. Are their shoulders relaxed or tensed? Are their movements sharp or at ease? Does their gaze wander? Do they hide behind a mask or let their emotions run free? Do they stand out or shy away from attention?

This man? His shoulders were tense and his lips tight. He doesn't seem very guarded and most definitely is always clear with his emotions. There's only a knife and gun on his body, meaning that he could probably handle himself in a fight. He doesn't need weapons to win. Because of the tension he carries and the way his skill set seems to be advanced, I'm guessing he's got many people relying on him and depending on his decisions. This guy is strong, a threat, a danger.

My shoulders tighten immediately at the realization. Then my eyes snap over to his body as he groans and rolls slightly.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?" He flashes a half-assed smirk my way, showing off his almost perfectly lined teeth. His upper front tooth is slightly crooked and the one next to it is chipped on the corner.

"I could ask the same." I glare. He shifts so he's sitting up and when I flinch, I know he takes note of it. But it's not pity that swipes across his features, it's understanding. "I'm Travis."

"Kaylee."

Travis nods as a welcome and I do the same. Then I help him to his feet and we continue on, no destination in mind. His arm is draped over my shoulders and I know he's trying not to rely on me too much but almost half his weight is leaning on me. And after hours of wandering in the scorching heat of Atlanta, we finally encounter a small farmhouse. A sigh of relief passes through my lips.

It's a chalky colored house with land surrounding it and an electric fence that races around the home. It looks empty and vacant with an old feel to it. And there's a comfortable and almost warm vibe I get from it. I stroll up to the gate and nudge it open, wandering into the open field with Travis limping closely behind me.

The house's windows are boarded up and when I try twisting the knob, the door doesn't swing open like I thought it would. Travis steps forward and pulls something from his pocket, picking the lock on the farmhouse. It makes me wonder what he did before the world went to hell. But then again, you'd never guess that I was a normal high school student. I hung out with my friends almost every night and always did my homework on time. I was someone who everyone looked to for advice and I always knew how to make someone smile. But now, I barely smile myself and when I do, it's one that's forced.

We decided to clear the house together; I took the second level and he took the first. As I make my way up the creaky stairs, I could hear Travis downstairs, sifting through the kitchen cabinets. Of course, he wanted the first floor so he could take the food and run. Real classy.

In the bedroom, there's a woman and a man, laying side by side with their fingers laced together. On the walls are pictures of them on vacations, their wedding day, and right outside the door hung a frame with the husband and wife with a small child clung to her. My heart aches slightly at the sight. I close the door quietly and after looking through the rest of upstairs, I make my way back down. And to my surprise, Travis is still in the kitchen, taking the cans of food and placing them on the table.

"This place is like a gold mine. I haven't seen this much food since the start," he comments. Then he pauses in his movements and looks up at me. "Do you think this is maybe someone's stash? If we take this, we could be leaving them to starve."

I shake my head. "Why does it matter?"

"We should leave a few. You know, just in case." I shrug, grabbing several cans and shove them into my pack then sit down at the table. Travis places himself across from me, cringing when the wound on his side flares up.

"So what's your story?" he asks.

"Don't have one," I answer simply.

His forehead creases slightly. "Everyone has a story." I don't respond, not wanting to remember my life before the apocalypse. My gaze wanders over the house and I realize that if I could fix up the electric fence, I could stay here for a while. I could maybe even stay with Travis so I don't have to be alone anymore.

No. I can't. I've always told myself I can't trust anyone, that I can't get too close to anyone because I always end up losing them. And I'm afraid to lose someone else. Plus, I need to keep moving. If I stay in one place for too long, I risk getting overrun and I didn't make it this far to die that way. To die stupid.

And I labeled Travis a threat so it probably wouldn't be the wisest decision to stay with him. I trusted a group once. It almost got me killed but that man is the reason I am the way I am today. In some twisted way, I guess I should be thanking him because if not for him, I wouldn't have changed and never would've made it this far. But he turned me into a monster. He turned me into someone everyone is scared of.

But the time I've spent with Travis, he's not looked at me once with pity or fear in his eyes.

The echo of a throat clearing jolts me from my thoughts and looking over, I notice Travis already has his eyes on me. He bites his bottom lip, considering his next words, and my gaze is immediately drawn to them. I look down quickly when I realized what I was doing.

"Look, like I said before you so kindly knocked me out, I've got a camp set up a few hours walk from here."

"No." The answer comes out harsher than I intended it to. "Being alone is better. You only have to watch your own back, not having to worry about other people's asses. Being alone doesn't get you killed; being in a group does. A group is louderㅡ"

"And stronger," Travis calmly interrupts. "Come back with me. Stay for a day or two then if you still want to leave, you can. But no one should be alone and I don't want to pry or anything butㅡ"

"I'm fine on my own. I've made it this far, haven't I?"

Jumping up, I stalk out of the room and outside onto the front porch. My eyes study the forest from afar and watch for any threats as I lean against the railing. Then I tilt my head, loving how the stars sparkle in the darkening sky. As the silence continues, I can't help but wonder who I was trying to convince in there. Travis? Or me?

I want to trust him. Really, I do. But it's hard when I've had so many people break the trust I had for them. So it makes it hard for me to let someone be there for me. Because nobody knows the real me, no one would understand.

Nobody knows how many times I've cried when no one was watching. Nobody knows how many times I've lost hope, how many times I've been let down. Nobody knows how many times I've felt like I'm about to snap, but I just don't, for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head when I'm sad, how horrible they truly are.

Nobody. Knows. Me.

I don't know how long I'd been standing out on the porch before the screen door swings open and Travis steps up beside me. He rests his forearms on the railing and a comfortable silence settles over us.

"I'm sorry," Travis whispers so quietly I almost don't catch it. "I shouldn't have pushed."

"You didn't do anything." I angle myself so I'm facing him and he mimics my movements. "I've lost so many people and can't take losing anyone else. I justㅡ" I stop and take a deep breath, composing myself. "I can't go with you."

"All I'm asking is that you stay one night. One night."

"Travis, I don't know you or your people. I can't trust them," I say. "And you shouldn't trust me either. Not around your people."

Travis shakes his head and walks around to the stairs. "Look, I've gotta start heading back before they get too worried. They'll be tripping over their own feet if they come out here looking for me." He lets a small laugh slip through his lips. "So are you with me or not?"

Being in a group is dangerous, I know that. But what if I went with Travis? They'll have food, water, medical supplies, and a place to sleep at night. Those are all things that are difficult to get on my own, most of those things I don't even have. But what if I didn't go with him? I would probably die, to put it bluntly. Maybe he's right. Maybe you do need people.

"Kaylee? Yes or no?"

You know, maybe he doesn't have a group at all. Maybe he's wanting to lead me somewhere so he canㅡ

"Look," says Travis. "As I said, I've gotta get back. See you around." He turns on his heel and goes to walk away.

He wouldn't want you to be like this. He would want you to move on. To forget about him.

"Wait!" I call out. Travis stops in his tracks and turns around once again. Jumping over the railing, I add, "I'll come with. But only for the night."

Travis smiles at me. "That's all I ask."

~~~~~

It's been an hour. We've been walking for about an hour now and all I've seen is trees. Trees and leaves and bushes and sticks. I'm starting to wonder if there's any group at all. Anxiously, I pull out one of my throwing knives and start to flip it between my fingers and over my knuckles.

I shocked myself when I agreed to come back with Travis. Glancing at him, I could practically see the wheels turning. I know he's trying to connect the dots. I snapped at him when he barely did anything to deserve it but nothing gets me as upset as talking about my past.

To be honest, I was dead set on staying by myself and now, here I am, walking by Travis's side to a group that I don't really want to be a part of. Tucking my knife back in its sheath, my eyebrows furrow as I catch Travis glance over at me, multiple times. Curiosity soon gets the better of me.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

He smiles. "Because I can tell you're different."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know yet," he responds. "We're almost there. It's just through here."

Travis quickened his pace so he can lead the way. Well, at least I know he trusts me enough to be at his back. We were almost through the bushes when I hear the all too familiar growl of the dead. Whirling around, I spot seven of them stumbling toward us.

I draw my throwing knives, one in each hand, and fling my right arm. It lands in the center of the dead's forehead. The next one I let get in arms reach before I stab my knife through the skull.

One, two.

Looking over at Travis, I notice two other bodies lying at his feet.

Three, four.

One of the dead comes up from my left side while the other is directly in front of me. Getting a bounce in my step, I launch a kick at the dead in front of me, letting my knife drag through its face.

Five.

Quickly, before the body can collapse, I push all my weight in the direction of the other infected. The knife slides into the top of the head and I tighten my muscles, preparing for the fall. The second we drop, I roll off to the side and into a crouch.

Six.

Then I look forward and Travis has his gun pointed at me. My jaw clenches. s**t. With the dead serving as a distraction, I completely forgot about him. Was that the plan all along?

"Duck."

I drop my head quickly just as a bullet pushes through the silencer on Travis's gun, landing in something behind me.

Number seven. He saved me.

He stretches his hand down to offer me help. I place my knives into their proper sheaths, making a mental note to clean them later and grab Travis's arm to let him pull me up. His gaze travels down to where our hands were connected and the contrast between the two is painfully obvious.

Me, with streaks of blood and dirt on my hands and dark clothing clashes with the cleanness of his hands and light-colored clothing. I'm a demon in hiding while he's an angel in disguise. Either the perfect pairing or the most dangerous. The most destructive.

"Travis," someone says from behind me. I jerk away from him and pivot, my hand instinctively dropping to my hunting knife. The woman's sharp gaze stays locked on me. "Who's this?"

"Kaylee. I ran into at a farmhouse a little way from here," Travis explains but leaves out what happened in the woods. And I silently thank him.

The woman nods after a minute. "If you're staying then we need your weapons."

"What?" I c**k my head to the side.

"Your weapons. We can't have you walking around camp armed. That could put every one of my people in danger."

I clench my jaw and tighten my fists. "You know what? f**k this."

Spinning on my heel, I make my way back to the farmhouse. I get it, I guess. She doesn't know me but I don't know them either. If those people get to walk around camp with a weapon on them, then I don't feel comfortable giving mine up. The last time I had my knives taken away, it didn't go well. So this time, I'm not taking any chances.

I didn't even want to be a part of the damn group anyway. I only did it for him. For Jake. If he could see me right now, I just know he would be disappointed.

By the time I get back to the farmhouse, the sky is already a light purple meaning the sun's now rising. I lock the door behind me and push a small table in front of the door. Because it's just me, I can't take any chances. I did once and it got someone I loved killed. The thought of Jake brings tears to my eyes.

Sagging against the wall, I slide down it and finally let the tears I've been keeping in for so long cascade down my face. This is why I put up a guard, why I built a wall so high that no one can climb it. It's not to be strong for others; it's so I don't completely break. The wall wasn't built to keep people out; it was built to keep me in and keep the damage on the other side hidden.

I'm broken. Completely and utterly broken.

But I'm not ruined.

There's a difference. A huge one.

~~~~~