The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

I have barely spoken to anyone since I got back. It’s hard to know what to say; it’s not like I can tell them what Ben admitted to me. I can see the pitchforks emerging already. There’s a part of me that still cares about that, and not just for Ben’s sake. We’ll all lose a part of ourselves if we let that happen.

Matt’s worried about me. He has stopped asking what’s wrong – he gets that I can’t tell him – but he’s always near. He didn’t go out with the foragers again today. He knows that Ben’s involved: they’re exchanging scowls now. There’s nothing I can – or want to – say to dissuade him.

Bree has wisely stayed out of sight. I think I’d do something we’d all regret if I saw her right now.

I haven’t known what to say to Ben, either. So many questions, but I don’t want to accept what he’s already told me. It’s hard to know where to start. He has been watching me with eyes that are always assessing me, weighing my expressions and reactions, looking for flickers – of hate, or anger, or sympathy. I have nothing to give him yet.

 

He killed someone. It was an accident, he says, but that didn’t stop him from chowing down on the remains. I can forgive him for an accident. Death and killing are so much a part of our world now that ethics have shifted, but it’s not like he murdered her. It makes a difference, though I’m not sure how much.

He’s not human any more. It’s not a surprise: I have suspected it for a while now. The way his hands and skin are always so cold, his reaction to sunlight, how he caught the offroader that slipped off its jack and held it up. How he found me in the dark. I had no idea of the scale of it, though; it goes much deeper than that, but I don’t know how deep. What else hasn’t he told me?

He has been so reluctant to let me in that I have no idea where I am any more. I want to go talk to him again, but I’m scared. Scared he won’t tell me any more, and scared that he will. Scared that he has more to tell. How much worse can it get?

It still hurts that Bree knew more about what was going on with him than I did. How long has she known? How did she find out? Did she catch him feeding and he didn’t manage to accidentally kill her? Was it longer than that? She has been avoiding me ever since she tagged onto our group, so I can’t use her evasiveness as a clue. Or did she meet him before he came back to us?

How many times can I be the girlfriend kept in the dark before I stop trusting everyone? Am I that easy to lie to?

I could run around in circles on this forever; it’s been almost a couple of days now and I’m still no closer to any kind of resolution. I can’t put this behind me until I know more and at least some of my questions are answered.

I have to talk to one of them. I don’t want to. Every fibre in my chest clenches when I think about it.

 

I just remembered what Masterson said to me the other day. He told me to look at my own house. Does he know too? How many people were in on this? How many friends didn’t tell me? How blind was I?

I’m in a group of over twenty people and I’ve never felt so alone in my life.