The Forgotten by K.A Knight

Author:K.A Knight [Knight, K.A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-16T05:00:00+00:00

The rest of patrol is boring, as we follow the route, keeping our eyes peeled. Jago explains a bit more about the clans and what scavs are, and I listen intently. From the way the elders in Paradise speak, I never guessed there were this many people left out here, and if they knew then why don't they help them? Or slowly bring us back into the world?

"I don't know, all I know is that out here...it's another life entirely. I don’t think the people of Paradise would survive. It's so..."

"Brutal," I finish, the man’s face I killed earlier flashing in my head, even knowing what he did doesn't make it better. I think this is just something you have to live with.

"The first time is always the hardest," he mutters softly and I glance over at him, hanging onto his words like a lifeline so I don't go back into my own mind and relive that moment again and again, like I have found myself doing all night.

"Is it? Was yours?" I ask, almost desperately.

He sighs, his hands tightening on the wheel. "Yes, I still remember the look on his face. The feel of his blood on my hands, the panic, and how fucking glad I was to be alive."

I stare at him as he speaks and I see the truth on his face. That death, whoever the man was, still haunts him. "Will it be like that for me?" I question, not wanting to see that man every time I sleep.

"No," he grunts, not looking at me.

"Why is it for you?" I press softly, knowing I am pushing and he might just shut down.

"Because he was my father," he spits out and I swallow hard, watching his face shut down as his eyes lock on the road.

I don't know what to say, so I reach over and squeeze his arm, but he doesn't react so I look back out my window, concentrating on patrol and trying to ignore the frosty atmosphere. The man’s face flashes in my mind again, the feeling of his warm blood seeping through my fingers as his eyes dim and his mouth opens, blaming me for his death.

“What happened?” The words slip out and I wince, I can tell he doesn’t want to talk but I need to, to distract myself, lose myself in his words, even his anger.

“Drop it,” he warns, his voice colder than ever.

Desperation claws at me, I need him now more than ever. “Come on, I told you mine, tell me yours,” I choke out and he slams on the breaks.

“I said fucking drop it, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls and I rock back like he has smacked me. “Fuck, I forgot how immature you are.”

He turns to face the front as I swallow hard, looking away from him as tears well in my eyes. Breathing through it, I ignore him.

The rest of patrol is spent in near silence, only trading terse words when necessary. He is pulling away from me and I let him, knowing that I caused it, and he is relieving the pain.

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