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The Death Drabble

For the most part, she never thought she needed one. She knew enough to realize that such recognizable traits to her personality were simply left overs from an easier time, a time when civilization was still holding itself together, and a time without horror or fear.
None of this was ever going to be a point of contention for her or the survivors that had chosen to follow her. Regardless, how they might have felt about Shawn Grey whenever she reached out and tried to communicate with Byron was probably always going to give her pause. The events leading up to the coming conversation wouldn’t be any exception.
Shawn watched him as he kept his eyes beyond the gate between themselves and the world outside. She knew that he was aware of her, and it irritated her that he hadn’t turned to acknowledge her. All she could do was fold her arms and imagine that she could burn holes into the back of his head.
“I came out to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.” He still hadn’t moved, which hadn’t surprised her. She took another step before continuing. “I felt it important you understand, and that I was the one to say so.” She lifted her shoulders. “Trey tried to make a point.”
“Trey was a fool.” Byron hadn’t moved as he spoke, but his opinion hung there long enough to make even the silence thick and uncomfortable. “He made a useless sacrifice, and it’s not one that the others will forget for quite some time.” He finally turned away and set his red eyes on her. His gaze made her uncomfortable, but she chose not to show it.
“I understand why you feel that way…” She answered him quietly but deliberately. “…but each of us live with our backs permanently against a wall.” She paused for a moment. Had the look across his face gotten softer? “It’s not a comfortable way to live. While some might realize that you wish to keep us safe, others only see you as just another threat that lives too close. I think Trey did what he did to make his point, but I also think he did it because he didn’t want this to go on.”

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