Chapter two: The Weight of Silence
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The wind howled through the ruins of the neighborhood, carrying the faint stench of smoke and rot. Ash stood at the edge of what used to be her street, staring down at the blackened, skeletal remains of what had once been her home. The air was thick with dust, the sky overhead a murky shade of gray. It was the kind of quiet that made your skin crawl, the kind that lingered long after the noise had died. It was the silence of everything coming to an end.
She didn’t belong here anymore. This place—these streets, the empty homes that lined them—had all been her life. Now they were a graveyard for the pieces of the world that were no longer useful. Her family was gone. Her friends, probably long gone. And now, Ash was left standing in the wreckage, her emotions as barren as the landscape.
She should’ve felt something. Anger, maybe. Grief. A spark of something that would push her to keep moving, keep surviving. But all she felt was numbness. And that was worse.
Her fingers clenched around the strap of her backpack. The weight was all she had left—what little was left to hold her up. The rest of the world had crumbled, but this stupid bag with its mismatched supplies felt like a tether. She could still carry it, so she still had some control, even if everything else was slipping away.
A rustle in the distance broke her from her thoughts. Ash froze, her heart slamming in her chest. She scanned the street, eyes narrowing, hands hovering over the knife strapped to her side. It was probably just a wind-whipped piece of debris, but the way her body responded—tight, alert—felt like it was going to snap any second.
She didn’t see anything. The street was empty, save for the occasional discarded car, its windows shattered and tires deflated.
A figure moved in her peripheral vision, too quick for comfort. Ash spun on her heel, hand on the knife, but what she saw stopped her cold.
Eve.
The woman was standing there, leaning against a broken telephone pole like she owned the entire street. She was too calm, too composed for the world they were living in. Her dark hair fell in messy waves around her face, and her clothes, though covered in dirt, still had that stubborn, defiant edge to them.
She wasn’t even looking at Ash. She was scanning the area, eyes sharp, calculating. Then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Eve turned her gaze toward Ash.
“I thought I told you to stay out of my way,” Eve said, her voice a low rasp that carried easily through the still air.
Ash narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the knife. “I’m not the one who’s following people.”
Eve smirked, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. “You can keep pretending you're not following me. Doesn’t change the fact that you are.”
The nerve. Ash took a step forward, clenching her jaw. She wanted to lash out—wanted to do something to prove she was still in control of her own fate. But Eve had a way of twisting everything she said, making Ash feel smaller than she already did.
“I’m not following you,” Ash snapped, though her words lacked conviction. She wasn’t even sure why she was so angry—Eve had a knack for getting under her skin like no one else. “I’m just... trying to survive. Like everyone else.”
Eve’s eyes flickered with something—maybe amusement, maybe something darker—and she took a slow step toward Ash. There was a quiet intensity in her movements, like she was calculating her every move. “Surviving. Sure. And how’s that working for you?”
Ash opened her mouth to retort, but her words faltered. How was it working for her? She had no plan. No purpose. No family. No reason to keep going. Every day was just another step into the unknown, and each step felt heavier than the last.
Eve cocked her head, studying her. There was something in her gaze—something sharp, almost knowing. “You’re not a survivor. Not like this.”
Ash’s blood ran cold. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Eve didn’t answer right away. She took another step, closing the gap between them, until they were standing too close for comfort. Ash could smell the faintest trace of sweat and dust on her skin, could see the flicker of something—empathy, maybe?—beneath the hardness in her eyes.
“You’re not going to make it if you keep going like this,” Eve said, her voice a little softer now, but still firm. “The world doesn’t care if you want to die, Ash. It’ll chew you up and spit you out whether you like it or not.”
A cold knot formed in Ash’s stomach. She didn’t want to admit it, but Eve was right. The world didn’t care about her or her pain. It never had. But Eve? She didn’t seem like someone who gave a damn about anyone either. So why the hell was she still standing here?
“I’ll figure it out,” Ash muttered, taking a step back, trying to distance herself from the uncomfortable proximity.
Eve’s lips twitched in the hint of a smile. “No, you won’t.” Her gaze dropped to Ash’s hand, still gripping the knife. “You’ll die with that in your hand, if you’re not careful.”
Ash’s pulse quickened. “I’m not afraid of dying.”
“Not afraid?” Eve raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you still here?”
Ash opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was still here. Why she was still trying, still fighting. Maybe she was hoping, deep down, that something would change. Maybe Eve had the answers. Or maybe, just maybe, Eve was right, and there was nothing left to save.
“Get out of my way,” Ash muttered, pushing past Eve, her body tense with the effort of not looking back.
But Eve’s voice stopped her. “You’re not going to survive out there on your own. Not without help.”
Ash stiffened, hands shaking at her sides. “I don’t need your help.”
“Then stop following me,” Eve shot back, but her tone wasn’t as harsh as before. It was almost... challenging.
Ash felt something flicker inside her—a spark of defiance, or maybe something else—but she didn’t answer. She just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, until she was swallowed by the ruins of the world. She could feel Eve’s gaze lingering on her, but Ash didn’t turn around. Instead, she kept walking, the weight of the world still pressing down on her—heavier now, with the faintest taste of something she couldn’t quite name, lingering in the air behind her.
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