Okay, so this is the first chapter of my new book (obviously) this is copyrighted, if you steal any part of this book I will hunt you down and follow you around with a leaf blower for the rest of your life, so you will never have a good hair day again.

This book as a work of pure fiction, any similarities to real people, places or events is coincidental. Blah, blah, blah, all that crap.

There will be cursing, so if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff, then please don't read. I tend to offend people without realising that what I'm writing is offensive, lets be honest, I'm going to offend someone no matter what I write, so I apologise in advance.

Just remember, if you post a comment that I don't like, I can delete it. But if you comment about my grammar, I will fix the mistake and leave your comment there so you look like an idiot XD

Oh, and please don't advertise your book in the comments. It's rude and it pisses me off.

Now you may begin.

• • •

I clutch my stomach as I stagger blindly towards the light at the top of the hill. It seems so close, yet impossibly far. I recognise the signs as they happen; my vision starts to blur. I must be losing a lot of blood. The stickiness oozing out from under my scarred hand confirms my suspicions. My head starts to spin, and I have to stop to steady myself.

I know that if I stop for more than a second I'll collapse and probably die out here in the dark, under the light of a full moon.

Shit, is that bad luck? Y'know, black cat, shattered mirror, walk under a ladder bad luck. Oh hell I'm doomed.

A mocking voice in my head knocks me out of my day dream, well night dream, except I'm not sleeping. The mocking voice reminds me of my old life. No, it is my old life. I hear him taunting me like a hammer slamming into my skull with every word.

If you don't beat that time I'll beat your brother.

If you're not bleeding, you're not trying hard enough.

The bitterness starts seeping into my veins as the anger turns into adrenalin and I continue to stumble up the hill.

"Am I trying hard enough for you?" I yell into the darkness. "Look at all this blood, do you see it!?"

I look up at the sky, hate in my eyes. "I hope you burn in hell!"

The irony of this life, this hell on earth overwhelms me. Ever since I learned what hate was, what it felt like, I hated him. That hate is what has kept me alive out here for so long, that hate that was drilled, quite literally, into me as a child. It still hasn't left me, even though he's dead now, that voice in my head that drives me to the brink of insanity somehow always lets me survive whatever is thrown at me. It's like he's been preparing me my whole life for this in the cruelest way possible, like he knew it was coming. But then again, how could anyone know this was coming?

Sometimes I wonder what I would be doing right now if it hadn't happened, but then I stop because I know my old life wasn't so different from this one, and hopes and dreams are only made to be crushed by someone bigger, and more powerful than you.

The porch of the lone house nestled amongst the trees, shines out like a beacon.

These people must be stupid, everyone knows not to leave any lights on at night.

I feel like a moth, attracted to the light. I hate moths.

The closer I get to the house, the weaker I become, my energy is drained from me. By the time I reach the three short steps that lead to the door, I can barely drag myself along the painted wood slats.

I think about dying right here on somebodies porch and a belt of laughter leaves my lips. Wouldn't that be a great gift to wake up to in the morning?

With all the remaining energy I have I slam my fist into the door. I repeat this three times before the door swiftly opens and I'm greeted by the barrels of three shotguns. I roll my eyes, wouldn't expect anything less.

The three figures standing over me appear confused by the situation they're faced with. Out of the trio, the one who catches my attention is the girl, the only girl of the group. She has dark hair, pale skin, a petite frame, almost something you would expect to see in twilight. What bothers me though is the look on her face. I would describe it as petrified. Her hands are physically shaking, and her fingers are as far as possible from the trigger. She doesn't know how to hold a gun and I highly doubt she could ever pull the trigger if the time came, even to save her own skin. That's what my problem is, shes too innocent to be living through this, but she's being forced to.

It's a different story for the other two guys. They both look like they've used guns before, but it's the one on the right that gets to me. His finger floats dangerously close to the trigger, like he wouldn't even hesitate if it came down to it. He has a dangerous look in his eyes, but he's also weary, not only of me but everything around him.

"Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here?" Dangerous eyes demands, unblinking, his hand never moving from the trigger.

"Woah, slow it down buddy, one question at a time," I say lightly.

"Start talking or I'll put a bullet through your skull," he replies venomously.

He needs to eat more chocolate, chocolate makes you happy.

"You won't kill me," I state.

"And how exactly did you figure that out princess?"

"Because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself, knowing that you have blood on your hands. The guilt would slowly eat away at you until you eventually killed yourself."

"Speaking from experience?" The other boy asks with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. "Obviously not, I'm still alive."

"Not for much longer if you don't start talking," venomous eyes says bluntly.

"Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" I mutter sarcastically.

"Look princess, if you want to die that's fine, I'll be happy to make that a reality. But I you want to live I suggest you start fucking talking," he hisses, crouching down to my level.

I shoot him a toothy grin. "I am talking."

He glares at me, chucking his gun to the other guy who catches it with ease. He roughly grabs me with both hands around my waist and throws me over his shoulder like a rag doll. I yelp as my hand leaves the blood soaked material of my shirt.

He angrily stomps into the house, which could have been considered nice once upon a time. The others follow, the girl being the last one inside. She shuts the door and locks it, then gingerly places her gun on the table, sighing in relief that she no longer has to carry the ticking time bomb.

Inside, there are several other people, all of whom look clean, well fed, and reasonably healthy, which isn't exactly a common sight around here lately.

There are three of them, added with the other three that makes it six altogether, excluding me of course. This group is the same as the first, two boys and a girl.

I am dropped, quite literally, onto a chair that has been dragged into the centre of a cleared area, by the looks of it where a dining table used to be. The two guys from the second group approach me.

"Weapons." The first guy states. He is probably the biggest guy I have ever seen, not in a fat kind of way either. This guy is a tank, standing at least six foot four, if not taller. His arms are probably the size of my thighs on a good day, and his skin the colour of milk chocolate. I'm not exactly sure if he's asking me a question or he just likes the sound of the word. The tone of his voice sounds very robotic so it's hard to tell.

"Don't you speak in sentences?" I ask in reply to his confusing one word sentence, or statement, whatever it was.

"Hand the weapons over or I'll shoot you." The second one threatens. He is short, well standing next to the walking tank I guess anyone would be. I observe that they could well be related, sharing the same skin colouring, face shape, and full lips. Although, the second one does look a lot younger.

"That's good, you speak in multiple word sentences. I'm relieved, I thought you were all cavemen."

"Weapons. Now." The tank growls, aiming his gun in a direction that looks suspiciously like my head. His voice is deep, and rather intimidating.

"Fine, fine," I cave, reaching my hand down to the waistband of my pants to retrieve my hand gun, wincing as my hand accidentally grazes my stomach. I hold up the gun so they can see it, then I remove the magazine which holds what limited bullets I have left. I place them both on the floor, making no sudden movements or sounds, wouldn't want one of these idiots to get a fright and shoot me. I kick them away from me, and they're picked up by the small guy, who pockets the ammunition, but then gives it up when dangerous eyes shoots him a dirty look.

He must be the leader.

I repeat this process with my knife, obviously not taking out the magazine but you catch my drift. I also kick it away.

I remain sitting in the seat and they remain staring at me.

"What? Are you all just gonna stand there and look at me?" I ask impatiently.

"We're deciding what to do with you," dangerous eyes replies.

"Well can you decide faster because I think I'm bleeding out," I state matter of factly.

"You're right, I'm in a spontaneous mood," he pauses. "Tie her up."

Once the order is given the process is remarkably quick. My hands are tied together behind the chair, my ankles to the chair legs, and a rope around my waist. I grit my teeth as the sick bastard who ties that plants it right on my oozing wound.

"You're all sick," I spit as dangerous eyes saunters over to me.

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that before," he replies, brushing it off.

"What do you want with me?"

"To ask you some questions."

"Well fucking ask then!"

"Okay," he says calmly, circling me as if I'm his prey.

"Where are you from?"

"Wescott, dumbass, we're all from Mount Wescott. It's not like anyone can get in or out of here."

He grabs my chin in his hand. "Don't talk to me like that, you're the one with your life hanging in the balance."

I struggle against his grip until he lets go.

"What are you?"

"What do you mean what am I? I'm obviously human."

"Only something nonhuman would say that."

I stare at him in disbelief, finally clicking onto what he's saying. "You think I'm one of them?"

"That's precisely what I think."

I sigh, clenching my jaw. "You're an idiot."

"Is that so?"

"No, I just said it for kicks," I reply sarcastically with an eye roll.

"Enlighten me then."

"They don't look like humans."

"Then how come the little old lady next door tried to bash me with a baseball bat?"

"You deserved it?"

He grabs my neck with one hand and squeezes. "Answer me smartly one more time and I'll leave you here bleeding all night. Got it?"

I nod frantically as he removes his hand. I cough and splutter as my air supply was temporarily cut off.

"Now tell me, how do I know you're human and not one of them?"

"Like I told you, they don't look human."

"Mrs Burns with the baseball bat, she looked human."

"Did you see her eyes?"

"Excuse me?"

"Her eyes, were they still there?"

He hesitates before answering. "She was wearing sunglasses."

"Well there's your answer, she was infected."

"Infected?"

"Yes, that's what I just said."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you really think I have that good of an imagination?"

He ignores my question. "So Mrs Burns was wearing sunglasses, big deal, anyone can wear sunglasses. How does that make her infected?"

"The infected ones have no eyes."

"So they've got no eyes, why do they need to wear sunglasses?" One of the other guys asked.

"I swear to god, trying to explain this to you is like trying to explain rocket science to five year olds," I mutter under my breath.

They look at me expectantly.

"They wear the glasses to cover the fact that they have no eyes, dummy."

"Say you're not making up this whole infection thing, how does it happen?"

"Easy, they get their eyeballs scooped out by one of them."

"Them?"

"Yes, the killers, big kahuna, mother of all things evil," I list.

"Why do you call them killers?" Asks the dick monkey who took my knife.

I sigh. Is it not obvious? "I call them killers because they kill people's insides." They all look at me blankly. "You guys are seriously behind the eight ball here."

Dangerous eyes glares at me. I huff at the lack of hospitality towards their house guest. Since when is tying people up and interrogating them considered friendly?

"Keep talking princess," he taunts, flicking a switch blade with his thumb and forefinger.

"I take it you've never seen a dead infected person?"

He stares at me, unblinking.

Oookay, I'll take that as a no. "Well, I killed one a while ago, it had no blood. Now that got me curious, and it was already pretty torn up so I looked at the organs. They had been sucked dry, shrivelled up like raisins. That person shouldn't have been able to function."

He stares at me intensely for a few seconds, like he's trying to figure out if I'm lying. These people seriously give me way too much credit, thinking I have a good enough imagination to fabricate a lie this extensive.

"So what you're saying is," he pauses, licking his lips. "There are these things called 'killers', who infect people by taking out their eyes, who then turn into rabid man killers with superhuman abilities and crispy organs?"

I nod. "Precisely."

He seems to believe my theory, which shows how messed up we all are. If I told anyone that four months ago they would have slowly backed away, and then probably run me over with their car because I was a danger to society.

"Right, so how do we avoid getting our eyeballs scooped?" Leader dude asks, staring at me with piercing eyes.

Why does he keep doing that? The intense stare thing I mean, that's a good way to freak me out and make me contemplate why I've decided to come here in the first place.

"Well, anything that could kill a person, can kill someone who's infected, a gun, knife, axe, whatever you got. The infected ones won't try to take your eyeballs though, they'll just straight out kill you. But the killers are a little more complex."

"So the killers, why are they going around stealing eyeballs?"

"How am I supposed to know? I haven't exactly stopped to ask one."

He rolls his eyes, pulling up a chair near the one I'm tied to.

"You honestly believe what she's saying Noah?" The girl from the second group speaks up.

Huh, Noah. Not the kind of name I expected.

"For all we know this could be a trap, there could be dozens of them waiting outside ready to slaughter us," she continues angrily.

"Look, lets get this straight, if I was indeed one of them, which I'm not by the way, you would already be eyeball less, sweetheart. And like I said before, if you had been paying attention, the killers don't look human and they certainly don't slaughter."

Her eyes narrow until they're only slits in her face. She storms over to me. "Don't treat me like I'm dumb, remember you're the one tied to a chair like a bitch."

"That's enough Cassidy," Noah scolds.

"Bite me," she remarks as she struts out of the room.

"I'd rather shoot you," I hear Noah mumble under his breath.

My lips twitch into a smile.

I like this guy.

"You're clearly not a killer, or infected, so who did this to you? Was it one of the infected?"

"Ha no. You guys really don't know anything about what we're up against do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"No monster did this to me."

"Then what did?"

"People."

•••••••••••

So, what do you think so far? Likey or no likey?

If you've come from my other book, Covered In Ink, be prepared for this to be quite different. And if you haven't come from there, then go read it!

Anyways, there will be no updating schedule because....to hell with schedules. I'll update whenever I can.

It means the world to me when you vote, comment and follow, so please do that.

Until next time.