Chapter 18: Chapter 18 : The Weight of Necessity
With a quick, sharp jab, Lee drove the knife into Brenda's neck, his hand clamping firmly over her mouth to stifle any noise. The blade slid through flesh and cartilage with sickening ease, crimson blood spurting onto his hand as her eyes went wide in shock and pain. She clawed weakly at his arm, her movements frantic but uncoordinated as she struggled for air. Her muffled cries gurgled into silence, drowned by the blood pooling in her throat.
Lee's hands were slick with her blood, warm and sticky, staining his skin in a vivid shade of red. As she collapsed in his arms, her life ebbing away, Lee felt the weight of his actions sink in. He had convinced himself this was necessary, a grim but essential step for the survival of his group, but watching her futile struggle for breath brought the reality of what he was doing crashing down on him. Killing wasn't just an abstract necessity—it was brutal, visceral, and permanent.
Her body went limp, her head slumping forward as the last vestiges of life left her. For a moment, Lee simply held her, his breath heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was eerily quiet, save for his own harsh breathing. Yet even as he tried to steel himself, the guilt gnawed at him. This wasn't just survival; this was murder, cold and calculated.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.
"Mom? Is dinner rea—"
Andrew's voice froze mid-sentence, his words catching in his throat as the scene before him registered. His wide eyes locked onto Lee, who stood there, blood-soaked hands clutching Brenda's lifeless body. The realization hit Andrew like a physical blow, his expression twisting into a mixture of grief and fury.
"No... NO! NOOO!"
His scream was raw, primal, a sound born of anguish and rage. Without hesitation, he charged at Lee, his mind clouded with fury, rationality completely abandoned.
Lee acted on instinct, shoving Brenda's body forward to meet Andrew's attack. The older brother collided with her corpse, stumbling back as her weight threw him off balance. It gave Lee the precious seconds he needed. With calculated precision, Lee stepped forward, raising his bloodied knife, and drove it into Andrew's skull. The blade sank into his forehead, piercing bone and brain matter. The larger man's momentum carried him forward for a heartbeat, but then he collapsed like a felled tree, his lifeless body crumpling to the ground.
Lee didn't pause. He pulled the knife free with a sickening squelch and turned back to Brenda's corpse, plunging the blade into her skull to ensure she wouldn't turn. The action was mechanical, a grim necessity in this world, but each stab added another weight to the growing burden on his soul.
The farmhouse fell silent once more, the tension palpable as Lee moved toward the entrance, his steps careful and deliberate. He took cover by the doorway, his senses on high alert, waiting for the final brother to appear. But the moments stretched, and no one came.
Just as Lee decided to move, the crack of a shotgun blast shattered the quiet. The wall beside him exploded in a spray of splinters, the buckshot narrowly missing his head. The shot had come from outside.
Danny, the younger of the St. John brothers, had heard Andrew's screams and approached cautiously, his shotgun at the ready. He didn't enter the house and instead stayed outside and walked towards the window, He had taken position by a window, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. As his gaze swept across the room, it landed on Lee, standing over the bloodied corpses of his mother and brother.
Danny's expression twisted into pure rage.
"You... YOU MONSTER!"
He bellowed, raising the shotgun to aim.
Lee ducked instinctively as another blast tore through the space where his head had been moments before. Without hesitation, Lee lunged forward, smashing through the window with his shoulder. Glass shards rained down as he tumbled outside, landing heavily on top of Danny. The force of the impact knocked the shotgun from the younger brother's hands, sending it skittering across the ground.
The momentum of Lee's leap sent the two men sprawling to the ground. Danny, fueled by anger and grief, managed to scramble on top of Lee. His hands found their way to Lee's throat, fingers tightening like a vice.
"You killed them! My family! You bastard!"
Danny roared, his voice filled with venom as he squeezed harder, his weight pressing down on Lee.
Lee clawed at Danny's hands, gasping for air as his vision blurred. The world around him seemed to fade, narrowing to the man above him and the crushing pressure at his neck. Danny's face was a mask of rage, his eyes wild with fury and pain. Spittle flew from his mouth as he cursed Lee, pouring every ounce of his grief into the violence of his grip.
Lee's lungs burned, his strength waning as the edges of his vision darkened. Panic clawed at his mind, but in the haze of desperation, his hand found the hilt of his knife. Summoning the last of his strength, Lee drove the blade upward, sinking it deep into Danny's throat.
Danny's eyes went wide in shock, his grip faltering as blood gushed from the wound. It splattered onto Lee's face and shirt, warm and sticky, as Danny choked on his own lifeblood. He gurgled, his body convulsing as he tried in vain to draw air through the crimson flood.
Lee gritted his teeth, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He shoved Danny's limp form off of him, the man's blood soaking into his clothes and pooling on the ground. Lee didn't waste a moment—he drove the knife into Danny's skull, ensuring he wouldn't turn into one of the undead.
As the fight ended, Lee lay back on the ground, his chest rising and falling heavily. His hands trembled, the adrenaline fading and leaving only the weight of what he'd done. He sat up slowly, his mind reeling as the gravity of his actions sank in.
He had killed an entire family.
The St. Johns had been monsters, their cruelty undeniable, but they had been people nonetheless. Lee's hands were stained not just with their blood, but with the knowledge that he had crossed a line he could never uncross. He had resolved to do this from the start, knowing it was necessary for his group's survival, but the reality was far heavier than he had anticipated.
His thoughts drifted to his past—his childhood in the orphanage. Life had always been about survival in one form or another, but never like this. Killing had been an abstract fear, a line he never thought he would cross, even in the worst of times. Now, that line was far behind him.
Wiping the blood from his forehead with a trembling hand, Lee pushed himself to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest, his throat raw and burning from Danny's relentless grip. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady the pounding in his chest, when a voice broke through the heavy silence of the farmhouse.
"Lee…?"
The word was barely above a whisper, but it sliced through him like a blade. He froze, his entire body tensing. The voice was quiet, uncertain, and achingly familiar. Slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he turned toward the sound. His hand, still clutching the bloodied knife, hovered near his side.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the weak light filtering in from the stormy sky, was his group. Maggie, Kenny, Glenn, Natasha, Ava, Carly, and Lilly—all of them were there. They stared at him, wide-eyed, their expressions a mix of shock, fear, and disbelief.
Lee's mind raced. He had left them back at the motor inn, certain this was something he had to face alone. Why were they here? How had they found this place? And, most terrifyingly, how could he possibly explain what he had done?
Maggie was the first to break the oppressive silence. "Lee…"
She said again, her voice trembling. Her eyes were fixed on him, but they flickered downward to the knife in his hand, the blood smeared across his chest, and the faint streaks of red on his face. She recoiled slightly, her disbelief twisting into fear.
The others looked no less horrified. Kenny, always quick to act, placed a cautious hand on the hilt of his knife, his posture defensive. Glenn looked like he was trying to process the scene, his brows furrowed in confusion. Ava and Natasha stood frozen their faces pale as they tried to reconcile this bloodied figure with the man they trusted. Carly and Lilly's hands hovering near their holstered pistols.
"I-Is this the 'safe place' you were talking about?"
Kenny's voice broke the tension, his tone rising with anger.
"A place owned by a family? Killing for it?"
He gestured to the blood-soaked corpse of Danny, his voice louder now.
"This is what you brought us to, Lee? This was your big promise?"
Lee said nothing. There was no point in trying to defend himself—not yet. The truth wouldn't calm them, and lies would only make things worse. Instead, he let the knife slip from his hand. It fell to the floor with a dull clang that echoed in the silence. Without looking back at them, he spoke in a low, measured voice.
"Follow me."
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