Things came to a head shortly after my last post. Seems Derik let me live because he found me amusing. I suppose you could say he was saving me for a rainy day, for when he was bored and needed some entertainment. I might have complied had he not trod on my tail and made the worm turn.
I passed out before midnight on the 5th and woke with Felicia poking my temple with the barrel of a revolver. When she saw I was awake, she cocked the gun to make sure I knew she meant business. It worked. I nearly pissed myself.
“Get up,” she said. “They want you to watch.”
“Watch what?” I could hear what sounded like scuffling coming from another room.
“Your slutty girlfriend getting what she deserves.”
“She’s done nothing,” I said as she prodded me toward the kitchen. “Give me the gun. Please. You can’t let them hurt her.”
“Shut up. It’s the @^%#’s own fault.” Felicia had all the class and reasoning faculties of a Jerry Springer guest.
I will not go into the details of Shelly’s rape by Derik and Carl. Only that they waited for me arrive so I could watch it in its entirety. I will say this, however. It took both of them to manage. I don’t believe either one could have had his way with her had he been alone, unless Shelly had been bound or unconscious. Her struggles were relentless and not once did she look my way. She clenched her jaw throughout and never cried out.
When it was over, they showed their disdain for us by merely dismissing us. I took Shelly to my study while the others loudly celebrated their superiority.
If this were a story, I’d say things got worse over the days that followed and that things looked truly hopeless. But this is not fiction, and Derik and the others were not the caliber of fictional villains. The simple truth is we waited until they all passed out. Then we cut their throats. It was much easier than I’d thought possible. I took out Carl; Shelly, Derik. Felicia was supposed to be my responsibility, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill a sleeping woman. Shelly had no such compunction. We dumped their bodies out a second story window, and that was that.
It’s a pity the living dead only eat viable flesh. Seems like such a waste, now that I’ve have time to think about it. I regret not having gone along with Shelly’s desire to spare Derik’s and the others’ lives. She wished to hamstring the lot of them and then toss them outdoors. I feel bad thinking about how many hungry zombies we could have fed had I not squeamishly insisted on the slit throat course. I’m such a wuss.
Oh well. I am what I am. No sense crying over spilt blood, I suppose.