Chapter 9

This chapter has extreme violence, blood and child murder.

The storm rages on for a while. I don't keep track of time as I stay curled up in a pathetic little ball in the corner of the cave with my supplies. Thunder crashes outside, leaving a ringing sound in my ears. Rainwater sprays in ever so often, helping me wash off the blood in my hair.

The girl. The hairpin.

I almost gag at the memory of her body, blood spurting out of her carotid artery and into my face. The metallic taste of the liquid in my mouth as I continued to pierce her already lifeless body.

Her family will burn because of me.

The toddler she killed. He could barely walk. Of course he couldn't survive. Better to get killed by her than die of thirst or starvation.

I don't use the rainwater to wash the hairpin. It could corrode the metal and dull it.

Stupid antique hairpins.

I hear the crunching of gravel from outside the cave, slow and inconsistent. I uncurl from the ball and ready the hairpin. Heading to the mouth of the cave, being careful not to slip out, I look down, seeing the silhouette of a tall boy climbing up the base of the mountain, clutching his leg like he's wounded. There's a knife in his hand. It's not Mayday's knife.

If he sees me he's going to try and kill me.

My body tenses up as my hand around the hairpin tightens. A lump rises in my throat, restricting my breath, my throat tightening.

Steeling myself for another kill, I hide just behind the entrance to the cave, waiting for the stranger to enter, my head spinning as I ready myself to kill another person if necessary.

No. It is necessary. They'll do whatever they must to survive. No alliances.

As the figure approaches the mouth of the cave, I tackle it to the ground, kicking it in between the legs. I hear a pained scream and I shut it up by stabbing it in the neck, the blood spilling out as its body goes limp.

I know it's not Mayday. He'd put up more of a fight.

I wipe the blood on my hands on the boy's face. His eyes are still open, the fear in his eyes visible, his mouth open with a silent scream. Dragging the boy by the legs, my muscles straining, I push him out of the cave to roll down the mountain.

He would have killed me had I not killed him first.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, staining my face with crimson liquid. The clap of thunder that follows the "thump" of the body hitting the ground leaves a ringing sound in my ears.

I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, my eyes darting around, ears perked up in case of the faintest sound of footsteps. The sound of mines going off continues. Every "boom" reminds me of the girl that blew up right next to me. The intestines spilling out of her severed torso, her limbs blown clean off their joints...it sends shivers through my body, a sickening feeling rising up in my gut.

The hairpin, still clutched tightly in my hand, feels like lead. I've taken two lives with this, which leads to around ten more lost. I slump against the wall of the cave as water from the storm sprays inside.

I can't sleep. Someone could kill me.

Taking a small drink from the water packet next to my rations and sniper, I hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel. Hurriedly picking myself up from the cave floor, my cybernetic eye whirls around in its socket whilst my real one darts around frantically. My breathing quickens, my legs ready to carry me while I stab my hairpin into the attacker.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder.

Where is it? WHERE IS I T?!

I look out the mouth of the cave, searching for the source of the sound. My cybernetic eye doesn't display any heat signatures nearby. But how could this be? I swear I heard something. It was so L O U D.

It could be above me. Maybe taking shelter. Now's the time to strike, but the storm...I can't make a move now. I'll find the person later.

The sound doesn't stop. It's too loud. It sounds like it's right next to me.

What if it is?

It isn't. If my cybernetic eye can't find anything, then there's no one there.

What if there is?

Shut up!

Time crawls by slowly. The storm stops after what seems like an eternity, but the sound of footsteps doesn't. Climbing out of the cave, I scan the area for any heat signatures. Nothing shows up, no matter where I look.

Then the sound suddenly stops. Are they dead? Resting?

My hand trembles, a tingling feeling in my legs as my breathing starts to get erratic again. I dart back into the cave, hairpin clutched tightly in my hand.

The sound of footsteps comes back.

"Shut up!" I scream as I clutch my head, grabbing fistfuls of my short hair in hopes that it'll stop the sounds.

I curl up against the wall of the cave, the gravel on the floor digging into the fabric of my pants, my grip loosening around the hairpin. It drops to the floor with a soft "thud".

My eyelids start to droop, my head falling against my knees. Then the sound of footsteps fades in again, causing my head to jolt right back up. Then it fades back out, as if taunting me.

Shut up, or I'll kill you.

I toss and turn on the gravel floor, my hands covering my ears, fading in and out of sleep.

I can't sleep. Someone could catch me off-guard and kill me.

Yet, despite my protests, I eventually find myself passed out on the rough floor of the cave.

When I wake up, my hand immediately darts out to find the hairpin, grabbing fistfuls of gravel, searching frantically for the cool metal that somewhat reassures me. When my hand closes around the golden hairpin, the tension in my shoulders melts away and I find myself clutching the hairpin to my chest like it's my lifeline.

It's strangely silent. The sound of footsteps is gone. Maybe they took the chance to run away.

But they could still be there. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Or worse. They could be dead. That means there's more out there.

It's dark outside. It always is. But when I look out this time, the night is clear and blinking lights illuminate the night sky. The sky isn't black, it's navy, peppered with little white dots. There's a patch that's particularly bright, clusters of stars forming big bright clumps in the sky. 

Then my eyes catch a glimpse of green. Floating through the sky like very big, long snakes. They cast the slightest green glow on the ground, showing the silhouettes of dismembered bodies strewn over the floor, my cybernetic eye zooming in to one with the legs severed from the torso, intestines spilling out of the body, the lights casting a sickly green glow on it, outlining every ridge of the exposed tissue, glossy from rainwater. I feel the vomit rise up in my throat at the sight, slapping the side of my head to get the eye back to its original state. 

I can't vomit. I can't waste water. Or food. Who knows how long I'll have to survive off of my limited supplies. 

I couldn't look at the face. I know I'll only see fear in its eyes, frozen in time. Like the girl who I killed. Heh. I say it so casually now.

The sound of gravel shifting breaks the peaceful silence. When I peek my head to look outside, I see the silhouette of a body sliding down the slope of the base of the mountain. I freeze. Every muscle in my body tenses up. My hand tightens around the hairpin in my hand. I can almost feel the scars on my face hurting at the sight.

It's the animal that attacked me when I went out of the shield. Its blood spills down the slope of the mountain. 

That could've been me. If the animal was somewhere above the cave...

My legs tense, ready to run should the monster wake up. Its body is lifeless, but I don't want another cybernetic eye. My breath stills. Everything's silent. Too silent. Someone must've injured or killed the animal. And they must be good with a knife. 

I head back inside my cave to take the sniper. I try to lift it so that it won't make a sound on the gravel, but my heavy footsteps do that anyways. 

My cybernetic eye scans up the mountain. The starlight makes it a little easier to see. My shoulders strain as I hug the sniper close, it seems to be the easiest way to carry it. Before I can see any heat signatures, I hear muttered curses and coughs. Gravel slides down the slope as I follow the sound to an area with a few rocks clustered together. Dark blood spills down the slope, coating the gravel. Holding my sniper up by the front like an axe, I turn the corner only to find a teenage boy, around my age, lying on his back, blood spilling out of a slash wound in his chest, his hand clutched tightly around a bloodstained knife. 

My first instincts are to save him. To press my hands on the wound to stop the bleeding. But my first instincts could get me killed. He won't make it anyways. There's no medical attention for these kinds of injuries. Besides, from past experiences, everyone wants to kill me.

The boy's eyes widen. As a silent threat or plead for mercy, I don't know. But I see the subtle shift in his legs, the way his hand clenches around the knife, and I swing the sniper, the rear end crashing into his face, sending blood splattering into mine.

I don't care. I keep swinging the sniper into his face, again and again, until his hand goes limp around the knife. I then flip him over onto his back, before swinging the sniper at the back of his head. 

Blood pools around my boots. I press two fingers to the side of his neck, and I'm very relieved to feel no pulse. I leave his body there, before carefully making my way back down the slope. Everything's silent again, besides the occasional sound of a mine going off a distance away.

He wouldn't have made it. I was giving him mercy.

But my intention wasn't to give him mercy. I was just scared. You can never be too careful. Everyone wants to kill you. Even stupid injured teenage boys who just killed an animal.

Thankfully, the animal's body is still in its original position, lifeless right outside my cave. Just for good measure, I push my hairpin into its neck, not daring to watch as blood spurts out and flows down the mountain.

I head back into my cave, throwing my sniper down to the ground, its rear grip stained with blood. An enemy's blood. I close my eyes for a moment, hoping to find some peace, but all I see is the slash wounds across the boy's chest and the blood caked on his face.

I look out at the stars illuminating the navy blue sky, the green lights that exposed the bodies of the dead. It's beautiful. But it's a constant reminder that people are dying out here. People are getting killed. 

And whose fault is that?

The Mars Council's. It's not mine. It's not mine. IT'S NOT MINE.

I had no choice. Everyone here wants to kill me. 

Under different circumstances, the stars, the lights...they would bring me comfort. But not now. Here...in Control...there is no peace. There is no comfort.