II
We have rules. In those stories our parents told, people lived together, shared food and helped those in need. Now, those things will get you killed. That is why it took Anna and not us. We do not share fresh food or any drinks. We do not trust strangers. We don’t settle.
Night is coming. I squint against the blazing sun as I look through a crack in the curtains. Anna’s hands bleed as she pounds on the door, leaving thick, black streaks like oil down the wood. The Rage dulls her pain.
Topi moves the other side of the curtain and sighs. He knows we can do nothing for her and that we must leave her behind, but he doesn’t want to. Anna pauses, spinning as if to face us, as if she knows we are here. She looks up, but she can’t see us; the sun burned out her eyes days ago. Topi holds his breath.
Then she falls. A spear protrudes from her chest. She screams, clawing at the metal, struggling to right herself. Topi and I push ourselves against the glass, searching for her attacker, but seeing nothing in the light. I turn away, my eyes streaming. Someone is out there. Someone is fighting back.
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A Writer's Life for Me 