Page 32 of Uprising

Secretly I had nightmares.

Ones that left me feeling useless, like I was beginning to feel this heavy weight in my chest when I would wake up in the middle of the night wondering why I even bothered to open my eyes. I was beginning to feel helpless. Realizing that I’m not enough, I never was. I felt this numbness, my emotions feeling mute. This quiet ache in my chest, it felt empty.

And the worst part, no matter how much I pretended to be fine, the one person I wanted to notice that I wasn’t okay didn’t care. I wanted Reed to ask me what was wrong. Even if I knew I would cry the moment he asked me, it just meant he cared if asked. But he didn’t. He didn’t speak to me; he didn’t acknowledge me unless he was teaching me to defend myself.

That’s the only time he spoke to me. While I knew I should have fought tooth and nail while he was training me, I didn’t. I reveled in his voice, even if it’s to yell at me about killing a zombie.

While I paid enough attention to learn the basic knowledge on how to kill one—with minimal breakdowns—I purposely made easy mistakes. The simple swinging before it got close enough. I only did it when there was one, never two. And with Reed ignoring me, I couldn’t find a part of myself to be glad I could kill up to three. Most of the time. I learned to pick and choose my battles. Though I only ran away once with Reed, he was there to back me up. It was those moments when he was understanding, pretending like he cared, that hurt the most. I made up scenarios in my head while I tried to sleep. I pondered what life would be like if he accepted me. That once we got to wherever we were headed, he would confess his feelings. That he wanted me, that he cared and didn’t want me to leave. Because, in all honesty, I would stay. I’ll force myself to believe Mallory and Rue made it. They’re most likely to be together, and I’m sure Rue is too stubborn to die. And Mallory, while she’s not self-aware, she’s not totally dumb. She has a certain smarts she can tap into.

But I would; I would stay for him.

All he has to do is ask, and I would do anything for him.

It’s not until I spot a clearing in the woods that the silence really starts to get to me. I figured he would at least tell me if we were getting closer, but he didn’t say anything. And why would he? I was invisible; I was nothing to him.

The faint but persistent anger bubbled inside me. It was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.

“You know what I think I miss most about before everything happened? Transportation. Now don’t get me wrong, walking is good for you. We should at least get eight thousand steps a day or something like that. I think that’s what my doctor once told me. But that’s beside the point. I’m talking about going across the country, and instead of walking, a car would be wonderful.” I ramble on.

I don’t think anyone could get used to walking across the state, let alone multiple.

Looking over at Reed, my fingers itch to pinch him for ignoring me. Not even a glance over. He does nothing but keep his eyes trained forward, and that stupid bat rests against his shoulder.

I should shove that bat up his ass.

The thought makes me smile. Only it’s left me feeling worse than ignored. I’m being rejected, and I hate him for it. Except I don’t actually hate him. Those stupid feelings inside want Reed, even if I want to shove him off the closest bridge.

With each passing second all I can hold onto is the fear. What if he chooses to leave me behind? What if he’s waiting for me to make that one mistake and get bitten? During all this I never thought about dying at a zombie's hand. Which is wild because during a zombie apocalypse, shouldn’t I be worried about dying from them?

I’m worried about being left behind.

And the closer we get to where we're going, the silence starts to become unbearable. The weight of everything presses down on my chest, threatening to crush me.

The small bubble of joy I tried to hold onto was slipping away. Anger rises, swelling around my chest. It’s like a dam inside me slowly starts to break, the irritation of him ignoring me. The hurt that he’s probably thinking of leaving me.

My feet stop moving. I can’t keep going. Not with him. Not like this. I’m better off alone, emotionally that is. Physically I’m totally safer with the six-foot-three person who chooses the silence over conversation.

I know I shouldn’t have expected him to stop, but a small part of me did. I wanted him to notice me no longer walking by his side. To notice my presence was gone. But he didn’t.

“Reed,” I calmly said. Or as calm as I can muster up. “I swear to God, Reed, if you don’t stop walking.” Hurt laces around my words. All the emotions curl around my inside, twisting and bleeding my heart dry until I can no longer take it.

With all the energy I can gather, I pull my arm back and throw the mallet as hard as I can. The moment the thing leaves my hand, I cringe and my finger wraps around my mouth.

“Oh no,” I whisper at the same time the mallet hits his back, and he yells out, “Fuck.”

While it does what I wanted the mallet to do, it got Reed to stop walking; I was not prepared for the icy look he shoots at me.

I drop my hands and raise my head. “You’re an asshole.”

Like a toddler that I’m acting like, I start walking towards him.

“You’re mean, arrogant, and, and, and?—”

“And what, Noah?”

I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him. In an instant I’m lost, looking at the depth of his icy blue and flicker of silver eyes. It’s not right. I shouldn’t be able to stop the words, the voice in my head, from yapping with one look at him. But that’s what Reed does to me.

He’s ignored you for a week.

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