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90% Last Steps / Chapter 27: Elizabeth

Bab 27: Elizabeth

My alarm goes off and I turn it off as quickly as possible. I wasn't even able to sleep, the nightmares just kept coming and then going away, and then coming back again.

I push myself off of the bed quietly in order to not wake my parents in the other room. I tiptoe around my room, throwing my clothes on and preparing myself for my early start.

It's weird to see my dad and my mom sleeping in the same bedroom for the last week, but I can tell that maybe they're beginning to work things out again. As much as I hate my mother for the things she did, I can't count on one hand the amount of times I wished she had been there when I wanted her most.

After getting ready, I glance over at the clock. 7:30 AM. A little later than I had been hoping, but it will work. I walk out of my bedroom and quietly glide down the hall to my parents' room.

I open the door quietly to try and avoid any creaks. To my success, I'm able to walk in unnoticed. I scan the room to find the shotgun, and it's in the corner by the door. I pick it up, make sure that it's loaded, and then I quietly shut the door.

I make my way down the staircase and walk into the kitchen to make myself a quick sandwich before I go. My body feels numb but I know that this is what has to happen. No emotions are even fueling me to go at this point, it's just how life is supposed to go now. I eat my sandwich as quickly as possible and head outside.

The streets are empty, probably because everybody is still asleep. Aside from the light cold breeze and the dogs barking in the backyard, the neighborhood is quiet.

I head towards the hole that Jessica took me through. That fucking coward, leaving me on my own in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere- and then, to make matters worse, she runs away and can't even face her own actions.

I duck behind a house when I notice the guard standing watch there.

"Damn it," I whisper to myself. I look around, trying to think of a distraction. I open the trash can lid and peek inside, hoping I'll find some sort of tool. However, I notice a milk carton and remember a story my father always used to tell me.

Back when he was in high school, he would pull this prank on everyone in the lunchroom. Supposedly, he would drink his milk carton, and then close the flaps on it like it hadn't been opened. Then, he'd place it flat on the ground and stomp on it hard and fast. I'd always laugh when he'd tell me how everyone ducked and thought that a gun had went off. Here's hoping his storytelling isn't too far-fetched.

I snag the milk carton out of the trash can and scurry past a few houses, looking for an empty trash can. I finally find one, and I place the milk carton inside. I try to fit inside, and it's tight but it works. The metal is cold against my skin.

I pull my foot up as high as I can manage. Building up my strength, I slam it down onto the milk carton and the sound actually scares even myself. It sounded exactly like a gunshot. I smile to myself, imagining again what my dad's classmates looked like.

I pray to God that he heard it, because I don't have much time to sit around and wait for him to get here. I slide out of the trash can and make a break for the hole. When I come around the corner of the house again, the guard is gone. "Yes!" I exclaim, and I throw myself into the hole with my shotgun in tow.

I crawl through as quickly as possible, and when I reach the other side, I begin to walk. The more I keep walking, the more it turns into a run. The more it turns into a run, the more that I fully sprint towards the only direction I know. Hope.

I finally make it to a clearing in the trees after wandering around in the woods for the longest time. I knew the general direction of where the community was by studying the maps at Rich's house. I just needed to head in a certain way and I would run right into it.

The service we had for Rich was nice. They buried him and then held a service, and everyone in the community came out for it. Justin and a few other people said some nice words.

Knowing that he meant so much to the community just proves that we need to fight back against those who plan to hurt us. Steven hurt me. Jessica hurt me. Chris hurt me.

They all need to die, and I intend on helping them get there. I pull the binoculars out of the backpack that my dad got for me when we went to the zoo for the first time. I put them up to my eyes, and instead of looking through and seeing an elephant like I always did, I saw Steven.

Not only did I see Steven standing there on the street, I saw Jessica too. They were actually talking to each other. I smile to myself at the bastard's arm being in a sling, because I know that I fucked him up good.

Then anger hits me. Pure and total anger. I throw the binoculars back into my backpack and swing it back over my shoulder. I hold the shotgun tightly and prepare myself to walk towards the gates when a hand grabs my shoulder tightly.

I try to scream but it doesn't come out fast enough, because my dad turns me around and looks into my eyes. My heart is still pounding a million miles an hour, but I begin to breathe and it slows down.

"What were you thinking?" he asks me quietly. "Turn around, Lizzy. Look at those walls. The guards. You wouldn't have even made it close enough to fire a shot before they ran you into the ground, and you know that. You're smarter than that, Lizzy. Come here."

I hang my head in shame and begin to cry softly as my father pulls me into his chest. My tears stain his shirt and I pull away to look up at him.

"It's not fair, Dad," I respond. "How do they get to live in the same world as us, and get away with hurting the people who have done nothing wrong?"

He looks at me for a while, trying to think of something to say. Finally, he says, "Don't worry. They'll get what's coming to them, believe me. The thing about revenge is that even though it sucks, waiting will pay off in the long run for you. Just wait, and I promise that we will be dealing with them soon enough."

I smile back up at him and he pulls my arm softly. "Come on," he tells me. "Let's go home."


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