Welp, I'm seven years late to the 30 Days party.

Oh well. Here's some Eben angst!

I of course disclaim the things. Don't sue me okay. I needed to get some feels out.

Do it for Stella. Do it for Gail.

He moved. Plopped his ass on the floor and jabbed the needle in, ignored the questioning frenzy of his brother and friends.

The needle itself was nothing. Fuck, he barely felt anything at this point. How many of his friends' heads had he chopped off so far? How many distant screams of terror and pain had he jolted awake to in that attic?

How much blood was on his hands, on his skin, in the street, smeared across the walls of their once perfectly normal little town, gushing from the fresh wounds being torn into what few still breathed outside?

Everything was so fucked up, so unreal, that more than once he had stopped and looked around, blinked hard to try and decipher whether or not he had simply gone batshit insane and was imagining the slaughter taking place right in front of him.


No, it was happening, and now Barrow was on fire, and his wife—his wife, his wife, and a tiny, terrified little girl were about to burn alive in one of the coldest environments on Earth.


The pain came after the injection. And it came quick.

His vision twisted, warped, and he felt his back stiffen and arch and suddenly every single fucking muscle was on fire, every bone felt like it was breaking, every nerve was being pinched and every sense that he had of his surroundings went black for what felt like an eternity.

His guts suddenly screamed with hunger. His throat was so dry that it throbbed, his pulse thudded into his ears and he cracked open his eyes and inhaled, deep.

Good God. What have I done.

"I can smell your blood."

And Christ, I understand it now. Get away from me. Step back. Don't look. Don't breathe. Every move you make is like an alarm in my head, a goddamn dinner bell and I know I did this for a reason, and I know it was important….

I'm so fucking hungry that I could scream. Everything hurts and I just know eating every single one of you will make it stop. Why are you still standing over me? Run, run; hide from me and hope I don't come back from this…

Get up, Eben. Ignore the pain. Accept the hunger. She's dying. They're dying. You did this for a reason.

You will starve.

You will burn.

You'll be lucky.

Get the fuck up and go die.