Amelia"What do you mean Ryan will tie Felicia to a damn chair and have her hover right above the infected?! And how can you be okay with this? Are you mad?!"I'm boiling with rage and glaring at Courtney with fire in my eyes. Talking hurts my throat, especially yelling, but I have to speak up! Violence in any form is not tolerable in my eyes.It doesn't matter that Felicia hurt me; she shouldn't be tormented for it! The girl is sick in the head—what she needs is a psychologist or whoever crazy people talk with!"I didn't think it would upset you!" Courtney is sitting in Ryan's kitchen and tapping the empty chair next to her. She looks too unbothered for my liking. "It will be over soon anyway; why won't you take a seat?"Maybe I should?Since when have Ryan listened to me anyway?First, I freeze up at Courtney's words and drift forward like a ghost. I'm about to sit down, but then I shake my head. "I can't sit down while Ryan is out

Amelia The scent of firewood is drifting through the cabin. I'm sitting next to Ryan on the couch, wearing nothing but my nightgown. Neither one of us is speaking. Instead, I'm staring at my naked feet and listening to the universe laugh at me. Ryan inhales deeply and glances down at me. His fingers are centimeters away from my thighs, resting on the couch. "Are you mad at me?" His question cuts into me like a knife, and I pull my lips into my mouth, already breaking apart at what I'm going to say. I've always believed myself to be an angel, but it seems even someone like me is flawed and just as ugly as everyone else. "No, I'm not mad at you." I meet his blue, concerned eyes with a sad smile. This will be a tremendous step for us. I'm about to pour out my heart, and it's not easy giving someone your complete trust. "I should be mad at you, but..." I have to bite my lips to hold back my tears. "Felicia hurt me, again and again with that knife, and...

Ryan's arms are gently squeezing me. His breaths are slow, heavy, and at peace; meanwhile, my heart is galloping inside my chest. I'm too curious and renewed by our lovemaking to fall asleep. So instead, I turn around on the couch, facing Ryan. Thick eyelashes are fanned out on his cheeks, brown hair is dangling over his shaped eyebrows, and the side of his face is resting on his huge bicep. He looks gorgeous, and I feel butterflies swarm my insides when he opens his eyes to faintly smile at me. "Can't sleep?" Ryan's eyes are locked on my face. He looks tired but is keeping himself awake. I chew on my bottom lip with a smile of my own. "I have too many questions," "Ask away..." "The questions will be rather deep, and some you might get angry with me hearing," Ryan chuckles. He is simply stunning. Taking him in, the air rush out of my lungs, and my heart kicks up speed. Those curling lips combined with that glint in his eye are enough t

ZoyaAmelia is already inside the barn when I walk inside, milking that black and white cow called Wanda while sitting on a chair. She is wearing an oversized Adidas hoodie over a pair of jeans—it's probably Ryan's, judging from how she is swimming in it.Strangely enough, she looks cute in his clothes, but the scars on her cheeks got sudden guilt piercing my heart.Awkward.I'm about to turn around from where I came from, but Amelia stands up, and I grimace as the silence unfolds. Her eyes flicker with surprise once she notices me, and I awkwardly wave at her, hoping she won't send Ryan to kill my ass."You..."Here it comes, the get-the-fuck-out-of-here speech. Of course, I deserve it for watching Felicia cut into Amelia's face like a self-proclaimed plastic surgeon, but I had hoped to live for another day."Thank you..."Wait.What did Amelia say?!My eyebrows shoot for the roof. Amelia walks to stand rig

Amelia The courtyard has turned into a battlefield. Men are dying, screaming, and getting eaten by sun-exposed zombies, but I can’t focus on anything else other than finding Ryan. “Wow, this place looks like a mess,” Zoya whistles. “I hope your man is okay.” Unease settles into my chest, prickles my skin, and makes me shiver as I watch the dead bodies in the snow. There are so many. Ugh. I hope Ryan is alright. He kidnapped me, and we had a rough start and a quarrel, but my heart is praying that he is okay. Maybe I’ve developed a Stockholm syndrome, but I don’t know what I would do if I found Ryan injured, or worse, dead. It felt so good when he touched me like we were finally standing on equal grounds, and I regret being mad at him for asking about the cure he thinks my father has created. Ryan simply asked a question, an important one since the zombies are growing in numbers, and I thanked him by getting grumpy myself. I don’t want h