Read Online Only The Living (Lost Survival Series Book 1) by David Tyne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Tyne
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batteries. Pretty weighted, as well — in a pinch, the thing could double as a clobbering weapon. It was almost depressing, how my first concern was drawn to the item's bludgeoning capabilities.
I told myself to keep looking around, but I couldn't ignore Beth's cries and whimpers from downstairs any longer. Every time she started another chorus of wails, I felt even sicker for going along with Ian’s not-so-white lie, just for the sake of convenience.
After nearly an hour of fake-searching and mentally preparing myself, I sat down beside the distraught girl in the kitchen. “I’m sorry... about your mum. Your dad, too. We wouldn't have gotten out of the station, or that train without their help.”
Beth stared vacantly at the mallet in her hands, unresponsive. Placing my hand on her tiny shoulder, I tried to establish a connection with her. She must’ve known the truth on some level, but couldn’t accept a world without her parents. The two people who loved her the most, both gone in the blink of an eye.
“You know that Ian... didn't actually kill your mum, right? She was Lost, and if I'm honest... she would’ve turned me into one as well, if Ian hadn't stopped her.”
I was about to start crying instead of Beth, but fortunately we both choked up at the same moment as she glanced down to her feet with those innocent eyes. “I'm not mad... at Mister Ian. I'm stupid, that's all. I saw that daddy was one of the funny people, but... I didn't... I didn't want to...”
Beth could barely speak, but she didn't have to. If I'd seen my own mum turning into a monster like Leo, I'd have a hard time accepting that it was permanent as well.
“...Does he really hate me?” The little girl’s voice was barely a squeak, instantly melting the heart that I'd been trying to keep detached and frozen solid for the past two days. Not knowing what to do in these situations, I tried patting her squarely on the head.
“Ian's... not very happy right now. His mum and dad had a big fight with him, before the, err... funny people came. I think he feels guilty as well, because of what happened to your parents. He’s pushing everyone away, because it's hard for him to—” I stopped myself short, already seeing that the concept of self-harm was lost on an 8-year-old.
“...He doesn't feel like he deserves to be your friend right now, so he said those mean things to try and make you hate him. He wants to punish himself, for what he did.”
Beth glanced up at me with a confused face. “So if Mister Ian still wants to be my friend, but doesn't want to want to be my friend... I don't get it.”
I'll be the first to admit, the way she managed to simplify the paradox made Ian look even thicker than usual. She was exceptionally bright for her age, but at the end of the day, she needed the same structure as any child. Caregivers to look out for her, to tell her that it was all going to be okay.
“I don't hate him... for setting mummy free. Not if she was Lost. If I go over and tell him not to feel bad any more, can we all stay together again?”
I recalled that night at the newsagents, where I told Beth that we could free the souls of the Lost by killing them. It was premature, presumptuous and completely ignorant, and yet in a weird way, I still believed that to be true…
“Absolutely. Don't mention what happened in here though, we don't want to worry him. Just... well, if he doesn't apologise as soon as we walk in the door, we'll do something funny, like... pin him down, and tickle him till he accepts your forgiveness!”
I imitated our plan on Beth, making her giggle through the tears and squirm out of her seat. “...O-Okay, Mister! Let's go and find Mister Ian!”
----
It took another fifteen minutes before we could pluck up the courage to leave that house, narrowly dodging the Lost patrols and crossing the darkened street undetected. By the time we entered his bedroom, Ian was in the same position we’d left him in, sitting
I told myself to keep looking around, but I couldn't ignore Beth's cries and whimpers from downstairs any longer. Every time she started another chorus of wails, I felt even sicker for going along with Ian’s not-so-white lie, just for the sake of convenience.
After nearly an hour of fake-searching and mentally preparing myself, I sat down beside the distraught girl in the kitchen. “I’m sorry... about your mum. Your dad, too. We wouldn't have gotten out of the station, or that train without their help.”
Beth stared vacantly at the mallet in her hands, unresponsive. Placing my hand on her tiny shoulder, I tried to establish a connection with her. She must’ve known the truth on some level, but couldn’t accept a world without her parents. The two people who loved her the most, both gone in the blink of an eye.
“You know that Ian... didn't actually kill your mum, right? She was Lost, and if I'm honest... she would’ve turned me into one as well, if Ian hadn't stopped her.”
I was about to start crying instead of Beth, but fortunately we both choked up at the same moment as she glanced down to her feet with those innocent eyes. “I'm not mad... at Mister Ian. I'm stupid, that's all. I saw that daddy was one of the funny people, but... I didn't... I didn't want to...”
Beth could barely speak, but she didn't have to. If I'd seen my own mum turning into a monster like Leo, I'd have a hard time accepting that it was permanent as well.
“...Does he really hate me?” The little girl’s voice was barely a squeak, instantly melting the heart that I'd been trying to keep detached and frozen solid for the past two days. Not knowing what to do in these situations, I tried patting her squarely on the head.
“Ian's... not very happy right now. His mum and dad had a big fight with him, before the, err... funny people came. I think he feels guilty as well, because of what happened to your parents. He’s pushing everyone away, because it's hard for him to—” I stopped myself short, already seeing that the concept of self-harm was lost on an 8-year-old.
“...He doesn't feel like he deserves to be your friend right now, so he said those mean things to try and make you hate him. He wants to punish himself, for what he did.”
Beth glanced up at me with a confused face. “So if Mister Ian still wants to be my friend, but doesn't want to want to be my friend... I don't get it.”
I'll be the first to admit, the way she managed to simplify the paradox made Ian look even thicker than usual. She was exceptionally bright for her age, but at the end of the day, she needed the same structure as any child. Caregivers to look out for her, to tell her that it was all going to be okay.
“I don't hate him... for setting mummy free. Not if she was Lost. If I go over and tell him not to feel bad any more, can we all stay together again?”
I recalled that night at the newsagents, where I told Beth that we could free the souls of the Lost by killing them. It was premature, presumptuous and completely ignorant, and yet in a weird way, I still believed that to be true…
“Absolutely. Don't mention what happened in here though, we don't want to worry him. Just... well, if he doesn't apologise as soon as we walk in the door, we'll do something funny, like... pin him down, and tickle him till he accepts your forgiveness!”
I imitated our plan on Beth, making her giggle through the tears and squirm out of her seat. “...O-Okay, Mister! Let's go and find Mister Ian!”
----
It took another fifteen minutes before we could pluck up the courage to leave that house, narrowly dodging the Lost patrols and crossing the darkened street undetected. By the time we entered his bedroom, Ian was in the same position we’d left him in, sitting
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