I will not show fear. I will not show remorse. I will not show hate. I am not a leader, I am merely an usher. After this is done, I will take them to where they must go, to where I must go.

She doesn’t even run from me. She looks at my face, her eyes unreadable. How long has she been watching me, hunting for any sign of me, working constantly to deliver her message? Does she even have a purpose now? Does she leave behind any unresolved missions from them? Or, like me, is this the last thing she has to do before forsaking this world forever?

Two bolt toward her, and I watch her as her body is ripped apart, as if it were a piece of paper. Even after she is clearly dead, they ravage her, two monstrous beasts tearing into a piece of steak.

Cease, I tell them, in barely more than a whisper, and they obey. They return to their brothers and sisters, awaiting direction, awaiting orders.

They want revenge. They want blood. And





“I don’t want to go back there…”

“Fuck…another fever…”


“Wake up now, wake up.”



“…my head hurts…”

“Here. I’ve opened the window. Better?”

“No…I can still see it….”

“It’s over….you’re safe….shhhhhh….”