This is my entry for a short story contest – part 1. Part 2 is here
I woke up in the emptiness again, God I hate this, I hate you. You left, and now all I have is this room, bare concrete walls, water dripping down them. Our bed is still in the corner, a bare mattress, no sheets. Right now the sun is streaming through the hole in the wall, the one you climbed out of yesterday, leaving me alone.
Why did you go? You know there isn’t anything out there anymore.
Why did you leave? This place, it needed you, needed your woman’s touch. Without you everything is ugly. We didn’t have much when you were here, but at least we had company. Now, I have this pencil, this paper.
I’m sorry I kept you here for so long, didn’t let you explore. I was scared for you, scared for us. I know flowers need light, I thought the light from the hole in the wall would be enough. When I woke to see your pale naked legs sliding through the hole I knew I’d lost you, that I was alone.
Even if there is someone else alive, they won’t be near, won’t be able to help you. I could have protected you, give you time to grow old with me. I have enough food in here, the water that drips down the wall is drinkable, we had enough for a lifetime together.
Bitch. How could you? It’s been weeks, and still I’m alone. You haven’t come back. If you do, if you dare to show your face here again, I will smack it, smack you hard, teach you your place. You belong to me. How dare you leave me?
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said last time I wrote. I’m just so lonely without you.
I tried to leave, to follow you. They were out there, waiting for me. Their teeth were bared, snarling up at me. I could feel their eyes, their need to tear my flesh from my bones, their hunger. Did they get you? Is your beautiful body lying on the ground, bloody and broken? I can’t picture it, I refuse to picture it.
It was day when you left, you might have made it, if there’s someplace to make it to. I have hope. Maybe you will come back, maybe someday I will see your long legs, supple flesh, sweet, sweet lips, someday again.
As I sit here reading what I have written I sound insane. I’m not, the world may be a bit broken, but I came through alright. Ain’t no little thing like an apocalypse going to get me down. I miss you though, I hate being alone. Wish I’d known you before, when there was still a world, before they came with their fangs and their hunger and their hate. You were so beautiful in the morning light, running from them, full of fear but still lovely. Your uniform is still here, what’s left of it at least. The plaid skirt, the button up shirt. Torn of course, in the escape. We barely made it here, remember?
I keep hearing them scrabble at the walls, at the door, trying to get in. Our home, our bunker. I found it years ago, abandoned, didn’t think too much about it. When the world ended it seemed like the smartest place to go.
I’m sorry I had to grab you like that, there was no time. It must have scared you, you must have thought one of the beasts grabbed you. Once you understood though, you calmed down, you stopped crying. Your face was so dirty. Once we were inside I washed your pretty face, had to use the remains of your shirt for a cloth, we didn’t have anything but our clothes and the bed, and the food of course. It isn’t even mine, came with the place.
It’s been a month since you left. I’m still here, still alone. The beasts are louder now, smashing at the door, trying to force the lock. I’m scared, scared that you were trying to come back to me my love, that they followed you. I’m hidden here, how else would they know where I am?