Thread: The Day the Lights Went Out [Langschwert x Cal]

She didnt understand . Her mother was blubbering her hail Marys, her sisters were crying and her dad was shouting incoherently. Catherine felt the tears stream down her face, but when the Eater lurched, the scream died in her throat. She was absolutely petrified, her blue green eyes wide with shock, her body trembling. This is how I die. was her last thought, before that voice attacked her numbed mind. That foreign voice which shouted out and deafened her. It was enough to stop the lurching Eater in his tracks, and she could do nothing but stand there like some stupid doll, rooted to the floorboards. The first thought that occurred to her that their blood was red, just like regular human beings. This seemed odd to her, as the Eaters had long passed the stage of resembling anything remotely human. And yet the red blood flowed, painting the floorboards and walls red, the thick, dark liquid seeping into the cabin just as easily. The second thought that occurred to her was that this all would be a bitch to clean up. The thought was so absurd that laughter threatened to bubble from her throat, even as the last of the creatures was slain and more and more saviors poured into the small cabin. Catherine was on the verge of being overcome with hysteria. It was then when the sword-wielding maniac lifted that helmet off his head, and Catherine reacted instantly, her eyes narrowing to slits. She held the dysfunctional gun higher, although it shook uncontrollably in her hands. She was as white as a sheet, and it was a miracle that she hadnt been doused in blood throughout the ruthless attack. Her body was covered in the type of sweat that only occurred when someone was afraid, the fear still gripping her throat painfully tight. Just because this man had slain the Eaters and saved them from a horrible death, didnt mean that he came with good intentions. And then Catherine laid eyes upon the mans face, and found out that he wasnt a man grown at all, but much, much younger than she had anticipated. The surprise and shock was plain to see upon her face, along with the growing sense of hysteria that threatened to blossom in her chest. Somehow the situation was far too hilarious. Her brain simply couldnt comprehend, couldnt register what was happening. She was, quite effectively, going into shock. Her mother pushed past her instantly and Catherine lowered the gun as her mother practically flung herself at Michael. Cries of thanks and words of appreciation filled the cabin, and her father and sisters soon joined her mother. Her sisters, 9 and 12 respectively, seemed more than happy to be taken in by these strangers, but Catherine was much more suspicious. She stayed back, waiting until her parents had finished their praises of thank you and what not, before they swept through the rest of the band of people, proclaiming their eternal gratitude. Catherine was left to stand alone in the kitchen, holding the gun awkwardly to the side, as she regarded Michael. Whereas his attire was grand and, to be fair, more than awe-inspiring, hers was as plain as day. Her blue jeans were faded and worn, torn at places here and there. Her upper body adorned a white cotton tank top. It was clear that Catherine had been in the prime of her youth a few months prior. Now, her face was slightly thinner than before, her whole body followed the example shortly after. She had narrow hips, marked by the physical labor she had attempted to save the garden with her mother and the lack of nutrition. Her stomach flat, her breasts neither small nor by any means big. Yes, Catherine was pretty plain. The hours of spending her time outside had given her skin a deep bronze tan, and had dusted her nose and cheeks with tiny freckles. Her bright auburn hair tumbled down her shoulders freely, as she kept her eyes upon Michael. Suspicion and adoration were clearly trying to fight each other. Once upon a time, she would have tried and get Michaels number. Shed flirt with him. Laugh at his jokes and talk about how good he looked with her girlfriends afterwards. Once upon a time. Now, her entire being was on the edge, hardened by what they had endured, which paled in comparison to Michaels plight. Still, for the city-girl, it was harrowing. Im Catherine.. Her parents had already introduced themselves as the McIntyre family, coming all the way from Chicago. The girls eyes flickered to the other people. They looked hungry, worn, tired, yet united. We have little to no food left she said, a slight hint of accusation creeping into her voice. She had to raise her chin slightly to look up at Michael, standing a head shorter than him. Then, her eyes flickered to the floor and to the pool of blood that crept from the dead body of the Eater between the Michael and Catherine. Then, the Eaters body jerked, a freakish spasm. Bile rose up in her throat instantly. Her face went white. She had to go. She had to get out of here. Out of this godforsaken cabin, out of this diseased country. With no warning, Catherine ran past Michael, past the new faces, past her family and bolted outside. There, she ran around the cabin so that she would not be seen from the open broken doorway, leaned against the wall in the shade and, promptly, emptied her stomach contents into the dry grass below. She retched and hurled, keeping her hair back with one hand, using the other to support herself against the wall of the cabin. Once she could do nothing more but dry heave, she straightened herself, and, with a frustrated little shout, punched a small fist into the wall of the cabin. She didnt belong here. She wanted to go home. But there was no home. Not anymore.