“I miss my brother,” Sam whispers into the darkness.
Amy gropes for his hand, feels him jump and then relax when she makes contact. She slips her fingers through his and tightens her grip.
“You can go back, I’ll be okay on my own,” she lies.
“I’m not leaving you.”
He squeezes her hand.
They find an abandoned house on the outskirts of some podunk town.
They play at being grownups, sleep side by side on the hardwood floor.
Sam steals food from convenience stores and they eat fruit cocktails straight from the can, juice sliding down their fingers. Later, they practice kissing with their sticky lips.
When the cans are cleared, Amy teaches Sam how to slow dance, and giggles every time he steps on her feet.
For a little while, they’re happy.
The hunger catches up with her three weeks out. The supply her mother left behind has long since been depleted, and the longer she goes without food, the sicker she becomes.
Delirious and sweating, she begs Sam, “You have to kill me…Sam, I can’t…I’m gonna hurt someone.”
Sam dabs at her forehead with a cool cloth, and bites his bottom lip.
He’s worried about her. A chill spreads through her body as she realizes the truth. She’s not going to hurt anyone.
She’s going to die.
The smell of fresh blood rouses her. She doesn’t remember falling asleep.
But Sam is standing over her, offering a jar to her.
He’s covered in blood.
“Just eat, okay,” he says.
“I got it from the morgue,” he tells her later, his skinny frame pressed against her, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. “I can get more.”
Amy wants to argue, she doesn’t want to turn him into a monster too. But until she’s strong enough to do it herself, she doesn’t have a choice.
“Promise you’ll be careful?”
Amy nods and Sam kisses her gently on the cheek.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promises.
“I’ll take care of you too,” she says, leaning into his body as he hugs her from behind.