THE FALLEN

"We have to run!" I screamed at Catherine, my voice raw with panic and fear. The shadows of the forest loomed around us, as if the trees themselves were closing in. I grabbed her hand, but deep down, I knew she wouldn't last another thirty minutes. The infection in her leg was spreading fast, her skin already pallid and sweaty from the fever. The stench of decay clung to her, and the blood-soaked bandage around her broken leg was no longer hiding the rot. I realized then, with a sinking heart, that I was about to face another loss-another soul ripped away by this cruel, twisted world. This was our life now: a life none of us chose, but one that fate handed to us on a platter soaked in blood and despair.

Catherine turned her face toward me, her eyes filled with the same pitiful expression my family had given me before they were shredded to pieces by the creatures we once called legends-now known as werewolves. The memory of that day haunted me; I could still hear the snapping jaws, the screams cut short, the splatter of blood against the leaves. Catherine's bitter laugh cut through my thoughts, a sharp sound that mingled with her tears. She glanced at her mangled leg and then back at me, resignation written across her pale face.

"Go," she rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "They're here. They'll find you. Where do you think I'm going to go like this?" Her voice rose into a scream, raw and filled with agony. "I'm as good as dead, Lucy! Just go!"

I hesitated, just for a second, the weight of her words sinking into me like a stone dropped into a dark well. But then I ran. I didn't look back. I couldn't afford to. I was used to this by now-running without looking back, letting go of the people I cared about, one by one, as they were torn away from me by fate's merciless hand.

I sprinted through the forest, the branches clawing at my face like skeletal fingers. The sound of Catherine's screams echoed behind me, a terrible symphony of pain and fear that slowly faded until there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and my own ragged breathing. We shouldn't have done it. We shouldn't have risked everything for a few scraps of food. But what choice did we have? Starvation or death by the beasts-it was a decision forced on us by a world that had long since abandoned mercy. Only now, my best friend had become their supper. It was ironic, really-how we fought to feed ourselves, only to be nice and healthy when the werewolves finally came to feast on us. Our deaths were inevitable. We were all just prey, waiting for the jaws of death to close around us. It was only a matter of time before they got to us all.

I stumbled back into our hiding spot, panting, my lungs burning as if they were filled with fire. I barely had time to catch my breath before Jake stormed toward me. His face twisted in fury, his eyes wild with grief. The slap came hard and fast, a sharp crack that echoed in the silence. My cheek burned, but I didn't flinch. I deserved it.

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice breaking with desperation. "Where is Catherine, Lucy?"

He knew. He had to know. The look in his eyes told me that he did, but he wanted to hear it from me, wanted me to confirm the nightmare that had already begun to play out in his mind. "you fucking left her!"

He knew they had gotten her-that she was now just another victim of the ravenous creatures that stalked us like shadows. He took a step forward, his fist raised as if to punch me, but he stopped abruptly. We both heard it then: the low, guttural growls.

The sound filled the air, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a sound that meant only one thing-death was near. The growls grew louder, accompanied by the snapping of twigs and the crunch of leaves under heavy, monstrous paws. Their vicious, bloodthirsty eyes glowed in the darkness, a sickening orange that seemed to pierce through the shadows like twin flames. They surrounded us, the forest alive with the gleam of their hungry eyes, like demons crawling out of the depths of hell. I could see the saliva dripping from their fangs, glistening in the moonlight like a string of pearls-beautiful, if you didn't know it was stained with the blood of the people you loved.

Jake's chest heaved, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I could almost hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat as it quickened with pure, unadulterated terror. He began to scream, his voice high-pitched and filled with the raw fear of someone who knew they were about to die. His cries were abruptly silenced by a sickening crunch as the first werewolf lunged at him, its jaws snapping around his throat. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, splattering my face and soaking into the ground beneath us. It was like a scene out of a gruesome horror movie-only there was no screen to hide behind, no remote to turn it off. I couldn't look away. I was frozen, watching as the creature tore into him, snapping bones like dry twigs.

I waited. I knew my turn was next. I had always known this moment would come. There was no escape, no savior, no miracle waiting in the wings. I was next in line for the slaughter. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a countdown to the inevitable. All I had to do was scream. But I didn't. I stood there, numb and hollow, staring into the orange glowing eyes of death as it closed in on me.

And in that moment, I knew: this was how it ended for all of us.