The House at the Edge of the Cliff

In A Panic

I was so cold. Even wrapped up tightly in this blanket I was cold. Though my violent trembling was not from the freezing feeling in my nerves. It was from the horror I had just witnessed.

The smell of Mila's cooking flesh. The smell of her burning hair was stuck in my nostrils. It was still so potent that it was almost hurting my sinuses. The sound of her sizzling flesh. Like bacon on a pan was still fresh in my ears.

What was still haunting me the most though was what I saw. The way her body was blackened and charred. With bits of scarlet red underneath, as if she was a pig that had just been roasted on a spit. The way her sclerosis had turned completely red like her eyes had been bleeding. The way she just laid dead right in front of me.

A Bolt went through me, and I started to quiver even harder inside my blanket cocoon. Even so, I still made no sound. I only cried and shivered while Gunner carried me back into the house and through the dark halls. To another area of the house that I was unfamiliar with.

My injured leg hung out of the blanket cocoon. The wooden stick still sticking out of it and making my wound drip blood onto the ground and leaving a trail.

It was slowly stopping though thanks to the tourniquet that Gunner had made out of his belt. He lightly shifted me in his arms. The way he was carrying me, was so gentle. He had a firm grip on me so that I would not drop. But it was not so tight that it was painful.

His steps were slow and calm. As if he was carrying me to bed while I was asleep. My eyes slowly lifted up from right in front of me. Moving up Gunner's shoulder, and to his beard before finally stopping at his eyes.

It was hard to tell exactly where the man was looking since he had no pupils. He could be staring right back down at me for all I knew. I could feel his breath wafting down on me since he was carrying me.

The contact caused another tremor to go through me and I ever so slightly curled into myself as my eyes fell forward again. Only to immediately get blurred by the next wave of tears as they settled in full force and started to fall.

I made my first sound since getting stabbed. A quiet, almost inaudible whimper as the blanket restricted me from curling into myself anymore. The movement caused my injured leg to spike in pain, and I tried to keep it as still as I could.

My whimper was so quiet that I did not think that he would have heard it. However right as the sound left my parted lips his head moved down, and I knew now for sure that he was looking at me.

My entire body inside the blanket, and unfortunately my injured leg as well, stiffened up like I was made of stone. I did not look up and meet his eyes, but I could slightly see his expression as he looked down at me.

He did not seem angry or irritated. He looked down at me with a rather calm expression. Almost like someone trying to soothe someone else who just had a nightmare or something.

His lips parted slightly as he ever so softly let out a low hush. It was just as slow and quiet as my own whimper had been. When he was done he looked back up and continued walking to wherever it was that was his destination.

He finally stopped at a door and kicked it open. Not too harshly, though it did bang loudly against the interior wall. This room's window was slightly less boarded up, allowing the light of the setting sun to shine in and let me see where I was

I was in a bathroom. There was a counter with a sink and a tub with an old-looking showerhead at the top. But that was it. He walked in. His boots causing the already mostly broken tiled floor to crack and crumble under his weight. He set me down so that I was sitting on the counter. Still tightly wrapped in my cocoon.