The word pounded through her head as her sword slashed left and right in quick succession, blade gleaming in the moonlight.
They had tricked her into coming to this God-forsaken place, and here she was, battling against people that had called themselves her friends.
She sliced Mike’s stomach open. Felt the tip of a blade bite into her arm. Duck, weave, sidestep. Again her sword drank blood.
When she’d first found the ragtag group, they’d been living in the sewers, scavenging a living out of the city ruins. They’d welcomed her arrival, proclaimed her their protector. But the atmosphere had soured.
Only one left to go. She held her sword upright, ready.
He fell to his knees. “Please,” he breathed. “For our friendship….”
Could she blame him? What wasn’t a façade in this war-savaged world? Who didn’t hide behind several masks? Everyone lied now, because only the liars survived.
“Friends?” She spat. “A friend wouldn’t trade my life in for food.”
Now she was the one who was lying. It had happened before. Her own mother had abandoned her so that she would not have to feed another mouth.
The sword never wavered. She sliced open his throat.
When no one trusts, does it matter that everyone lies?