Riley Dansby

English 3 Honors

17 January 2020

The End

After everything, Zoe couldn’t believe this was happening. Before the war, before the

massacres, she could’ve screamed. Could’ve made a scene, but that would tell the enemy where

she was. Dense was the forest before her, but she could still see the form on the ground, partially

covered in leaves. Easton. For years she had had one goal, one mission, and she had failed. Gone

was the sweet, naïve girl she had once been, and in her place stood a battle scarred, world-weary

individual, oblivious to the birds chirping and trees swaying in the wind, she could only focus on

the boy, no, the body laid out on the mossy forest floor, the body of a boy that should be running

through the forest, laughing and jumping in leaves, the body that lay incredibly still, unnaturally

so; he looked peaceful, sleeping in fall, if not for the dark crimson spreading over the ground like

a lake, surrounding his head in a macabre halo. Her seven-year-old brother was dead, and she

hadn’t been there to stop it. If only she had been there, she should have been there, should have

protected him. Just as her parents had died, so too did her baby brother leave the world. Killed

senselessly, surrounded by violence and hate, unable to fight back. Like a puppet with its strings

slashed, she dropped to the ground. More than anything, she wanted to take his place. Not

because she was selfless, but because she was terrified of being alone, fending for herself with no

one to help her.

Picking herself up off the ground, she took a deep breath. Questions filled with anger and

grief flew through her head, why couldn’t she have been a little faster, why did this happen, what

was she going to do now? Realizing that these questions would go unanswered, she trudged over
to Easton’s lifeless form. Sobbing softly, her chest heaving with the force of her agony, she shut

his eyes for the last time. The night was falling fast, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to

bury him, there was no time; so she contented herself with covering Easton with leaves.

Underneath one large leaf, she found something that made her heart stop. Viscous, red liquid

pooled around a small hunting knife, a hunting knife with a chillingly familiar name on the

handle: Xavier Monroe. With a wet gasp, she picked up the knife and looked around. Xavier had

done this; her brother’s mentor had betrayed him. Yellow leaves were pushed into the dirt in the

shape of footprints, showing a clear path that had to lead to wherever Xavier was hiding. Zoe

stood up, brushed off her jeans, and walked off into the forest, revenge the only thing on her

mind.