Day One:

The skin upon my legs was sticky from the setting midsummer sun. My best friend, Sierra Goodwin, stood in front of me. Her arms were wrapped around the annoyingly hipster Cyrus Peterson. He kissed the top of her forehead as we stood in line at the ticket booth. A woman behind us with two kids rolled her eyes at the sight of the couple.

This was common. I was the definition of a third wheel. To be completely honest, I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. I'd come to realize that romance just wasn't my thing. The thing I hated most, though, was the fact that Sierra had gotten pretty good at ignoring me when Cyrus was around. It was normal for her to just make love-eyes at him the whole time. Tonight was no exception. They were too busy giggling together to realize that the ticket window was now open, so I cleared my throat, earning a glance from Cyrus.

"Oh, right," Cyrus mumbled. He pushed Sierra forward, and I followed. Ever the gentleman, Cyrus paid for all of the movie tickets himself. It wasn't a kind gesture, as it was just another way to show off that his dad is loaded. He was always finding ways to prove to Sierra that he had money. Last month, Cyrus paid for a trip in a house boat out on Lake Ford for two weeks. I was invited by Sierra, but I declined. Having to spend a trip to the movies was painful enough. Imagine two weeks trapped on a boat.

As Cyrus paid for the tickets, Sierra was distracted by her phone. I raised an eyebrow, always the curious creature. "You get a text?"

Sierra shook her head, "I was trying to send one to my mom so she wouldn't flip out when she saw I wasn't home. Must have sent it too late, though. Just got a message saying the text didn't send."

That's the only thing I didn't like about our quiet small town cinema. Positioned right off the highway, perched on a hill, it sat in the middle of a cellular dead-zone. My mom used to freak when I went to the movies alone because she could never contact me. Sierra's mom was just the same.

"You left without telling her again?"

Sierra nodded this time. "Obviously, Violet. She's gonna freak. But, it's her fault. If she would loosen up a little, I wouldn't have to sneak off the way I do."

I thought this logic was backwards, but I said nothing more. An argument with Sierra at this point in time would not have been wise, considering her boyfriend was my ride home.

Cyrus finished paying for the movie tickets and turned to face us. As we walked towards the entrance of the theater, he handed us each a small slip of paper. I zoned out as Cyrus reached out to clutch Sierra's hand, mumbling about whatever cheesy B-rated horror flick we were about to see. As Cyrus held the door open, I heard a siren behind me on the highway. I turned to see what the commotion was about, seeing a firetruck and at least two police cars heading in the same direction.

"Huh, must be a car accident or something," Cyrus said as he waited for me to walk through the door. I didn't. I watched as an ambulance barreled in the opposite direction. Traffic seemed to be slowing down, too. Which was odd, considering it was a Tuesday. And I didn't see an accident anywhere.

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled to myself, mostly.

"Come on, losers. We are going to miss the previews." Sierra's voice was nearly drowned out by the wailing sirens.

Reluctantly, I entered the theater, and Cyrus closed the door behind me. Instantly, the smell of buttery cardboard popcorn filled my nostrils. Cyrus made his way back to Sierra's hand and turned his face to her's, offering a quick peck on the lips. "You hungry, babe?"

"Starving. I'm always down for some cruddy overpriced nachos." Sierra and Cyrus made their way to the concession stand, with me shortly behind them. The happy couple didn't seem to notice that I was there at all. When we got to the counter, a boy a little older than me was manning the register. He did not look happy to be there. Sierra ordered a plate of nachos with extra cheese. Cyrus ordered a large popcorn and a cola slushy. Neither of them asked if I wanted anything.

"Is that it?" The boy asked. His name tag read Jacob.

Cyrus nodded and pulled out his own credit card.

Jacob gave me a look of pity. A look that said, "Your friends suck. Why are you even here?"

I gave him a look that said, "I'm used to it by now."

As we walked off, Jacob watched me go. I hoped that he'd be there by the time the movie was over. I would stop and chat with him. It looked as if he understood what I was going through. I liked that. Feelings of desired friendship bubbled in my chest as we turned the corner out of the lobby.

We made our way to theater number six. After walking through a darkened corridor, we were there. Low-lighting made it difficult to find seats, but Sierra begged Cyrus to sit in the very back. So, we did. Cyrus gave Sierra everything. Sierra took advantage of that, always. I was just their luggage.

When we got seated, Sierra started complain that she was cold. I did my best to tune her out, but she was persistent.

Cyrus chuckled at her whines, "Seriously? The movie hasn't even started yet." My thoughts exactly, so shut up.

"I know, but babe," she drew this one word out by at least six seconds, "It's chilly in here."

"If this is an excuse to get me to cuddle with you, it's not gonna work. Besides, this is a scary movie. Surely, you'll get a little spooked. But then, and only then, will I cuddle with you." Cyrus was teasing. He was already lifting up the arm rest between them and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"What's this movie about, anyway? You never even told me."

"It's about these vampires who try to invade a colony of witches in the 1600's," Cyrus explained, "Supposedly, it's based on a true story."

"Oooh, I'm shaking." Sierra giggled and leaned onto his chest. It made me want to barf.

"It's okay, baby, I'll protect you." He leaned in and started kissing her. Of course, she kissed back. Despite how loud the previews were playing, I could still hear it.

Utterly disgusted, I quickly stood. "I'm going to head to the bathroom before the movie starts."

Sierra held up a pointer finger in return, but continued stuffing her mouth into Cyrus. Without a second thought, I sprinted down the stairs and to the long corridor. As I made the corner to the exit, I ran straight into a taller man. When we collided, I started apologizing profusely. He only groaned in return. His eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in a decade. He also reeked. He didn't seem too bothered by the incident and continued his very, very, slow decent into the darkened corridor.

I located the sign to the bathroom and did my best to speed walk there as quickly as possible. While I practically ran, I saw the mother of the two children that were behind us in line at the ticket booth. She was hunched over, back to me, raking at the carpet with her bare hands. It was odd, until I saw the color of her hands as she lifted them. They were a dark shade of red. She must have spelt some of that delicious cherry slushy the concession stand had to offer. Honestly, I considered buying one as soon as I called my mom from the bathroom to come and pick me up. I knew I should't have come, but a part of me still wanted to be close to Sierra, despite her constant attempts to ignore me around Cyrus.

I finally reached one of the two entrances to women's restrooms. The restrooms at the theater didn't have doors, just an open space with a corner that led to the stalls and the sinks. There were two restrooms, and each connected three theaters on each side. Two young women stood at the sinks, one reapplying lipstick, the other washing her hands. They didn't seem to notice I had walked in.

I went into the second stall and shut the door behind me. I locked the stall door shut, feeling much more at ease than I had moments earlier. Out of this entire theater, the bathrooms are my favorite. Every stall had walls that went all the way to the floor, painted a faint honeysuckle. The stall doors were wooden with panels running across, allowing a little light to seep in through the outside. It was isolating, but I could still hear the two women outside. I listened to their conversation as I dialed my mom's phone number into my cell.

"...I agree. She was acting strange. Even before we got here, all quiet and stuff."

"It was so unlike her. It's like she's not even herself anymore."

I hit the call button. "Shoot," I whispered to myself. No service. I was in the center of the dead-zone.

"She needs to learn to get over it. What you said wasn't even that insensitive. She needs to learn to take a joke."

Just as I was about to suck it up and walk back to the theater, I heard a scream coming from outside of the bathroom. It sounded like a sound effect. Not real. Blood-chilling. Straight out of a horror film. Startled, I opened the door and peeked around the wood.

"Did you hear that?" One of the women said to the other. "Someone's in trouble."

I took a step out of the stall, ready to follow the women to see what going on. Before I could, I heard a shuffling coming from the other entrance to the restroom. I turned to see another young woman, pale and skinny. Her eyes were puffy and red, like she'd been crying. The two women also turned to face her. Her stringy blonde hair covered most of her face, but she had a red stain around her lips, like she'd applied red lipstick blindfolded. The two women recognized her. And I felt like I did, too, somehow, though she was a stranger to me.

"Emma, we were just about to come out." One of the women took a step forward. I could tell by the unsettled look on the second woman's face that this was the girl they were trash-talking only moments earlier. "Did you hear that scream? Do you know what's happening out there?"

The girl, Emma, didn't move. I began to feel awkward. Out of place. I was just always out of place.

"Emma?" The first girl took another step forward. "Emma, if you heard what we said... well, it's true. You aren't acting like yourself." Another step. "It's just... Emma, are you bleeding?"

Out of pure curiosity, I leaned in. She was. The lipstick stain around her mouth wasn't lipstick at all. It was a scarlet layer of blood caked around her mouth. Some of it was still fresh, though, and it leaked from her mouth and dribbled onto the tiles. It was horrifying and mesmerizing. Emma held my entire attention in her clutches.

Out of nowhere, Emma lunged forward, grabbing at the first woman and shoving her to the ground. Terrified, the second woman turned and ran out of the bathroom, screaming as she went. I stepped closer, ready to help the woman Emma had knocked over. Until Emma started ripping the woman's flesh apart. Piece by piece. The sound of her skin tearing made my toes curl. The world slowed. The woman's screaming echoed in the small space. My body turned to ice. I watched, in horror, as Emma shoved the woman's skin into her mouth, chewing it like a bloody piece gum. In a panic, I shoved myself back into the bathroom stall, locking the door instantly. I began retching and grabbing at my stomach as the woman's screams wiggled their way to my heart. Tears fell. The ugly sounds of Emma tearing apart the woman continued to force their way through my ears, despite my fingers shoved deep into them. My heart thumped as my mind raced, so many thoughts and not enough time to stop and think. What in the world did I just witness?

The woman stopped screaming after a while, but Emma continued to stuff her face with the dead woman's body parts. Somewhere, beyond this bathroom, more screaming continued. Emma still was ripping at the woman's body. I did my best to drown out the chewing of her skin. I thought it would be easy, I shut out Sierra and Cyrus all the time. This was different. This was awful. Outside of my stall door, Emma had her dinner. I cried. I cried because I was scared. I cried for the woman. I cried for my mom. But, I sobbed because I knew that if I ever moved from inside this bathroom stall, Emma would have her next meal.

Day Two:

I did not sleep at all, but I admit I tried my best. Emma's feeding continued into the early hours of the morning. The screaming of other movie-goers stopped sometime before that. I turned my phone off to conserve battery when I couldn't call anyone for help. Around what I thought to be midnight, I thought I heard the sounds of a helicopter flying right over me. I wanted to scream, wanted to tell them I was here and needed rescuing. I did not, in fear it would alert Emma to my stall.

Emma's shuffling feet kept me up the rest of the night. She groaned occasionally. At one point, she ran smack into my stall door. I told her, telepathically, to go away. She did shortly after.

My bottom hurt from sitting on the tile for so long. I decided to stand up and stretch my legs. I did what very little movement I could. To my disappointment, I could not perform my regular yoga routine inside of a bathroom stall.

The watch on my left wrist told me it was around eleven thirty in the morning. My stomach was growling like crazy. I searched my purse for anything to snack on, but all I had were some mints. I popped a couple in my mouth, but my stomach seemed to only grow louder and louder. Emma must have heard it, since she came shuffling near my stall for a few more minutes. It made my blood run cold and my stomach shut up.

My mind was constantly racing with plans to escape. Outside of this bathroom stall, there was just Emma, stumbling around, waiting for me to come out. I didn't know how many of these... things... were outside of this bathroom. This theater. And that scared me.

I soon found an answer, though, as I was sitting and debating what I should do. Another one of these things stumbled into the bathroom. It's groaning was much louder than Emma. I could tell by the tone that it was a man. I peaked through the wood paneling to see him pass by my stall. He made his way over to the woman's dead body (what was left of it, anyway) and started munching. I nearly vomited for the fifth time in twenty-four hours. I realized that I now had even less of a chance to escape than I did before. Emma was just one, and so was I. But now there were two of them, and one of me. My odds were not the best.

The bathroom walls were still somewhat of a comfort. The honeysuckle walls reminded me of springtime, safe and warm. I knew that as long as I stayed here, Emma and her new boyfriend couldn't reach me. I was untouchable. Just thinking about leaving made my stomach do cartwheels. But thinking about staying here didn't settle well either. I decided that I'd wait until I knew there was just one of them left in the bathroom with me, and I'd come up with a distraction. I had to get out of here eventually.

But, as of right now, I needed rest. My body was tired from all of the added stress. I curled up on the tile floor, using my arms as a pillow. My lullaby was the the sounds of guts being shoved into a man's mouth. And, in some messed-up way, it only made me hungrier.

Day Four:

The body was beginning to smell. The whole bathroom reeked of rotting flesh and iron.  I ran out of mints. I also knew I needed to drink something other than my own salvia. I tried not to squirm as I used my hands as a cup and dipped them into the toilet water. Despite the circumstances, the water was refreshing. I did my best not to think about what I was consuming.

I also had a new friend who joined the bathroom party. By the groans, I could tell it was a little girl. I watched her through the paneling. She wore a gray dress that was bloodied and torn. Emma and the other man, who I nick-named Frank, still wandered aimlessly around the bathroom. I started playing a game as to what they hit when they groan. My choices are: the sinks, the walls, the dead body, the stall doors, or each other. It passed the time, I guess.

Also, I tried something new today. Toilet paper. While it's definitely not my meal of choice, I found it to be rather filling. I decided I was going to ration this much better than I did the mints.

Despite the constant racing of my heart, sleep became easier. I did that more than anything, just because I'd wake up in a different time. I also began drawing on the faded honeysuckle walls with bright red lipstick. I drew flowers and hearts and smiles. To brighten the place up. It didn't help much, though.

Later, the little girl, who I named Susie, started running into my stall door and groaning much louder than I liked. She kept at it for nearly two hours. After she decided she couldn't get to me, she shuffled away and out of the bathroom. I was incredibly thankful for that, even though I was terrified to the core. I only hoped that Frank and/or Emma would follow her.

They didn't.

Day Five:

My mind was the only thing to keep me company. I suppose it was always like that, even before these flesh-eaters roamed the town. I spent too much time thinking about everything. I had too many questions, but my only answers came from the groaning of Emma and Frank.

It made me sick.

I cried so hard. I screamed until my throat hurt and my head spun. Emma and Frank visited my stall door during the release.

I couldn't take it anymore. I knew I had to get out of here before I starved to death. There was a sliver of me that hoped I would, though. Then, I'd never have to worry about being eaten alive. Or worse, turning into the one eating others.

Part of me had hope. The rest of me did not. The walls of the stall were causing me to suffocate, squeezing the life out of me bit by bit. I was alone. I had always been this way.

That scared me. Knowing that I would die like that. Alone.

Some grim part of my brain reminded me that I had Emma and Frank. It wasn't funny.

But I laughed until I cried.

Day Seven:

The power switched off, but then the generator kicked on, so the lights switched right back on. Shortly after, Frank left the bathroom for the first time since he arrived. Emma stayed right where she was, hobbling around the tiles. I decided that today was my best shot I had at getting out of here. I was down to only one roll of toilet paper. I was sick of drinking toilet water. I was getting out of here.

I had been brainstorming a plan for seven days. I needed to stop thinking and just do. From my time in the bathroom stall, I knew that these things are attracted by sounds. Every time I coughed, sneezed, or flushed the toilet, Emma was there, scratching at wood panels with blood-soaked finger nails. My plan was simple: unhook the top of the plastic toilet paper holder, wait until Emma was on the opposite side of the bathroom, quickly open the door and toss the plastic container away from her (the distraction), wait until she goes to investigate, and quietly escape the bathroom.

I didn't know what I would do after that.

I removed the plastic toilet paper cover with no problem. Emma was still a few feet away from my stall. She'd been there for a while. My watch read 6:27 p.m. Around this time, Emma stumbled over to the opposite side of the bathroom. It was now or never. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, I quickly opened the wooden door, grateful to see outside for once, and threw the piece of plastic at the wall on the other side. It made an earth-shattering noise as it crashed to the ground. Quietly, I slipped back into the stall as Emma groaned. She shuffle-ran all the way over to my distraction.

I took in a deep breath. When I knew for certain she was away, I slide out of my prison and into the dingy bathroom. I ran in the opposite direction, coming right to the dead body of the woman from a week earlier. Nearly half of her was gone. She was totally unrecognizable. The blood had dried a dark crimson, and flies hummed around her intestines and exposed ribs. Her flesh was completely gone, all of it. I didn't have long to stare, as I heard Emma quickly dismiss my plastic distraction. I hurried out of the bathroom, thankful for the freedom, but careful not to make any loud footsteps.

The rest of the theater smelt just as bad, or possibly worse, than the bathroom. I noticed people laying in the middle of the carpet, a scarlet halo spread around each of them. It made me sick, but I kept moving. I went to the only place that made sense: the concession stand. I heard some groans coming from the other side of the theater, so I made hast and dove behind the counter. Immediately, I started stuffing myself full with Cookie Dough Bites and Thin Mints. I found bottles of water and chugged three of them in a row. I silently said prayers of thanks as I shoved a Hershey's Bar in my purse. Then, I heard it. The awful sound I'd began to know oh-so well.

The sound of flesh being ripped apart.

Behind a cracked door marked "Employees Only," I could see flickering lights and a pool of blood forming under the crack.

Freaked, I took a silent step backwards. I scanned the area for anymore of Emma's friends. For the most part, it looked clear, besides the occasional corpse. An idea sparked in my head, but I had to act quickly. I grabbed a broom from behind the counter to use as a makeshift weapon. Believe me, I didn't want to get anywhere near those things. Plus, I didn't even know what hitting them with a stick would do. I didn't want to get close enough to find out.

I jumped over the counter and out into the open. With the broom held out in front of me, I made my way over to the first ripped-open corpse I came to. It looked like a man based on the shape of the body. But he (or she) was way too torn up to tell. I hesitated slightly before reaching into his (or her) bloodied pant pocket and pulling out a set of car keys. I did a little happy dance, making my way to the glass exit doors as fast as I could without making any noise. Behind me, I heard more groaning. I knew better, though. The place felt empty. I was the only human left in this place. The only one who wasn't eating other people, anyway.

I rushed out of the glass doors. It was dusky dark, the sky a vibrant red and tangerine color. I took a deep breath, glancing around the parking lot. I saw some of those things stumbling around, causing goosebumps to prickle up my skin instantly. I knew my next move was risky. But, I did not, under any circumstances, want to live in a bathroom stall for the rest of my life. The old Violet could never do this. I'm Violet 2.0, I told myself. You've got this.

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding as I pressed the panic button on the car fob. An alarm sounded. Instant panic set into me, sprinting towards the car. I wasn't the only one, as every single being inside and outside of the theater seemed to be doing the same. I reached the driver side of an old pickup truck just as one of those things stumbled out from in front of the hood. A girl. A teenager. Sierra.

My breath caught in my throat, causing me to spiral into a coughing fit. She groaned as she shuffled towards the truck. I gripped the end of my broom. I heard more groans and footsteps coming from behind me. The car alarm still shot into the air, biting at the summer heat, along with my ears. I had no time to think, just do. In one swift motion, I knocked the end of the broom into Sierra's kneecaps, sending her tumbling to the pavement. Time was ticking down. I had to get in the truck. I jumped over Sierra's body in a hurry, unlocking the truck and flying into the seat. Before I could get my left leg in, Sierra reached out and grabbed my ankle. I screeched as her claws dug into my skin, ripping at whatever she could. She inched her open-mouth forward, aching for a taste of my blood. Adrenaline raced into my mind, whispering in my ears, instructing me to do things I never thought I could. I reached out and grabbed the handle of the door, swinging it into Sierra's arm. It took three good hits, but I finally able to close the door with Sierra on one side, and me with her severed arm on the other. It wasn't long after that I puked up the Cookie Dough Bites and Thin Mints.

I stopped the alarm and slipped the key into the truck's ignition. I wasted no time pulling out of the theater, and driving away. Pain shot up through my left leg as I drove, causing me to wince. I passed old cars and dead bodies, becoming less and less bothered at the horror of the outside world. I glanced at my leg as I drove and noticed the cut caused by Sierra was deeper than I thought. Blood oozed from the wound, offering my leg a warm blanket of crimson. The more I drove, the more it hurt. It was as if someone had taken an axe and sliced my leg clean off. I began to notice a thick layer of green mucus build up on my wound. The only thing I could do was pray that i was not infected. The pain was almost unbearable, but I kept my hands firm on the wheel as I drove into the setting sun.

I was not sure what I was driving towards. Or if I'd ever find anything. But I knew I was headed towards a better life, one without drinking toilet water. It didn't matter that I was alone, because it had always been that way. It didn't matter that I was in a hopeless situation, because I had hope. And I was heading towards it.