There was nothing there, she could see that now. No recognition of her face; no memory of the all-too-brief time they'd shared; no trace of the promises they'd made every night since this began, to protect each other no matter what.
It was all gone, scraped roughly away and replaced by a feral, desperate hunger. Those pale brown eyes, glazed yet alert; darting around like a rat being backed into a corner, searching for only one thing: food. Red, wet sustenance that wouldn't replenish the body no matter how much was consumed. A downward spiral, only the hunger remained; nothing else.
This was the moment they'd talked about, the situation that they'd both prayed was avoidable. A memory flashed into her mind, lingering with sarcastic appropriateness. "God answers all our prayers" her Sunday School teacher had often chimed, "but He doesn't always say yes". Indeed.
So be it.
She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• Short stories © WorldOfBlackout.co.uk, all entries are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Y'know, mostly.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
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