Page 87 of Famine

There’s blood everywhere, and the room is filled with the piercing cries of all the other trapped humans.

“You wereallgiven a chance at redemption,” Famine announces, his gaze sweeping over them, “but your will is weak.”

The Reaper moves away from the body, towards another person, this one a woman.

She opens her mouth. “No—”

Her plea is cut short. Famine swings his scythe, separating the woman’s head from her shoulders. Blood sprays as the body collapses into the plant holding her.

My screams now join the others.

The horseman has gotten a taste for death.

Famine moves onto the next person and then the next and the next, that terrible weapon cutting each one down. Mercilessly he executes the trapped townspeople until the floor shines with blood. Those he doesn’t get to are slowly squeezed tighter and tighter by the trees and shrubs until I hear the snap of bones.

And now the cries aren’t just terrified, they’reagonized.

At some point my voice grows hoarse from screaming, and I have to close my eyes against the carnage. It’s all so excessively cruel.

The plant caging me in has grown uncomfortably tight, but unlike some of the other people in the room, it hasn’t broken any bones or crushed my lungs.

It seems like an eternity passes before the warehouse grows silent. The only noise left is the harsh patter of rain and my sobs. Even then, I keep my eyes closed.

I hear the wet thud of Famine’s boots as he walks through blood towards me. A whimper leaves my lips, and a tear tracks down my cheek.

“Open your eyes, Ana.”

I shake my head.

The plant holding me now releases its grip. I’ve been caught up in it for so long that my bloodless legs fold under me, too weak to keep me standing. Before I hit the ground, the Reaper catches me.

Now I do open my eyes and look up at his stormy ones. Behind his head his scythe looms, secured to his back once more.

I can smell the blood on him, and I can feel it in the wet press of his hands on my body.

Another frightened tear slips out. I thought I was brave, stabbing his hand earlier. I foolishly thought that if I hurt him, I might actually be able to direct his anger away from these people and onto me.

Instead I only enflamed his fury.

“You’re the best of humanity I’ve seen so far,” Famine’s voice is silken, “and I have to say, I’m not too impressed.”

With that, he scoops me into his arms and begins heading towards the door, kicking the odd head out of his way as he does so. Bile rises up my throat once more.

“Put me down,” I say, a tremor in my voice.

“So you can stab me again?” He huffs out a laugh. I can hear the soft splash of his boots as they step through puddles of blood. “I don’t think so.”

The only people who are left standing are Famine’s men. They stare stoically at the carnage, but inside they must be freaking out. I knowI’mfreaking out, and I’ve already seen this many times before.

“Why are you the way you are?” I whisper staring up at his blood-speckled jawline.

Mean. Evil.

That jawline seems to harden as he glances down at me. “Why are you the way you are?” he retorts. “You fucking stabbed me in my hand.”

“So you killed an entire room for it?”

“I was going to kill them anyway.” As he walks, the trees and bushes part, making a walkway of sorts for us.