Hunger

Hunger—ZenPens

The first person came down from the bus, I was not worried.

It was a 15-seater bus, there had to be someone in the bus willing to feed me.

The second and third person came down.

I still sat still at my end of the bus.

5th, 6th,7th.

“Where are you going?” the guy sitting next to me asked.

“Last bus stop,” I said, biting my nails.

8th, 9th, 10th.

Now I was worried. There was no way I was going to bed hungry tonight.

I was hopeful.

11th, 12th.

Now we were just three.

I swallowed large chunks of air, and tapped the guy sitting next to me.

“Where are you going?” I asked quietly, trying hide the tremor in my voice.

“Last bus stop,” he said, looking at me with curiosity.

The 13th person dropped.

My eyes darted from the door to him in seconds.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I shook my head.

I pointed at my mouth, then my tummy.

“You’re hungry?” he asked.

I smiled shyly, nodding.

He smiled too, and put his hand in his pocket.

He brought out a few notes for me.

I took them with a smile.

The bus picked up pace and breeze began to blow in through the windows.

He moved closer to the window and looked out.

It was time.

I bought out the small dagger behind me and went for his neck.

He didn’t have time to yelp as the blood splattered on the window.

I pulled his limp body back in.

The driver, my brother, drove into the nearest bush, and we both dragged our dinner out of the bus.

Some minutes later, my brother, in-between mouthfuls of flesh said,

“This damsel in distress script never fails.”

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