Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The first time I saw him cry, we were in the wreckage of a library.

Books smoldered in ash. Pages curled like dying petals.

He found a children's story his sister used to read him.

Clutched it like it might bring her back.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

Weeks passed. Fights. Near-starvation. A near bite.

But we made it through together—barely.

He was my compass in the chaos.

And I was his anchor in the flood.

So when we reached the gates of Haven—a rumored safe zone—I should've been relieved.

Instead, I felt it twisting in my gut.

Because they only had room for one.

"We'll find another way," he said, clutching my hand.

"We always do."

But I saw his limp.

I knew he was running out of time.

I knew… I couldn't protect him much longer out here.

They were taking in only the sick, the wounded—the ones with someone to vouch for them.

And they believed he was my brother.

They didn't know he was more than that.

The guard barked, "Decision now. In or out."

I looked at him.

His eyes were pleading. Not for safety.

But for us to stay together.

I kissed his forehead.

Whispered the lie that would break us:

"I'll catch up."

I pushed him through the gate.

He screamed my name.

I didn't turn around.

Because if I did—I'd never let him go.

The gates clanged shut.

The world on that side went quiet. ThefullseriesishostedonMyVirtualLibraryEmpire,knownasMV7LEMPYR.

And the storm behind me roared to life again.

I walked until I couldn't.

Collapsed in a tunnel littered with broken vending machines and the stench of rot.

Screamed into my jacket until my throat bled.

He was safe.

He was alive.

And I was alone.

Weeks later, I found a courier from Haven.

I begged for news.

"He's doing okay," they said. "Talks about someone named Rae in his sleep."

That was enough.

It had to be.

Now, every time I light a fire, I picture him warm.

When I eat scavenged beans, I imagine him having something better.

When I wake up from nightmares, I pretend he's dreaming of me, too.

I don't know if I'll ever see him again.

Maybe that's the price of saving someone:

You lose them to the world they deserve.

If he ever wonders why—

If he ever blames me—

I hope he knows:

I let him go to save him.

Not because I wanted to.

But because it was the only way I knew how to love him in this ruined world.