The Mating Run by Leeka

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Ettie’s hands, still coated in blood, move smoothly and deftly, a stark contrast to the violence that unfolded moments before.
She’s acting like everything is normal, as if the scent of iron and the sight of stained leaves on the forest floor don’t bother her. She tries to ignore the sight of Elijah’s motionless figure sprawled on the ground behind her. I find it impossible to look away –
from the gruesome scene before me the shattered remnants of a
person now reduced to a macabre display of mangled flesh.
“Are you in the mood for food, Alina?”
Ettie’s voice resonates, breaking through the foggy atmosphere, creating a sharp contrast to the lingering presence of the unspeakable act. Seeking a response, her eyes lock with mine, silently pleading for a nod of agreement, as the comforting scents of the meal attempt to mask the haunting presence that lingers. in this hut.
With trembling effort, I nod in agreement, unable to tear my eyes away from the unsettling sight behind her. The forest is eerily quiet, as if it anticipates the return of normalcy. But normalcy feels like a distant memory, fading away into the shadows of the past.
Ettie smiles, but her eyes remain distant and unfocused.
“Good. Let’s eat before anything else. So, there’s this cool spot just a few meters away, with a pond full of fish. We could go fishing later, maybe.”
Fishing. The word echoes emptily in the silence following the violence. I try to focus on her words, picturing a tranquil pond where the stillness is only interrupted. by the occasional splash of a fish.
But the image is tainted by the vivid memory of Elijah’s shattered skull, replaying in my mind like a gruesome movie scene.
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As Ettie tends to the cooking, I struggle to avert my eyes from the gruesome sight. Inside my mind, a storm rages, with waves of unease relentlessly crashing against the fragile shore of composure. Although I should be repulsed and horrified, a strange numbness has taken its place, leaving me feeling detached..
The tantalizing aroma of sizzling meat permeates the air, creating a stark contrast to the lingering silence between us. I watch Ettie, her movements precise. and deliberate. I struggle to grasp her words as the relentless images in my mind overpower her distant echoes.
“Alina, are you okay?”
Startled by Ettie’s voice, I snap out of my daze and become aware of my surroundings. Her eyes meet mine, and I can’t help but notice a momentary flicker of concern in her gaze.
“Yeah,” I mutter, my words barely audible and filled with a sense of inadequacy. How can anyone be okay after witnessing something so gruesome? The sound of Elijah’s screams echoes in my ears, refusing to fade. “I’m fine.”
Ettie nods, her eyes filled with a mix of understanding and vulnerability.
“The steak will be done before you know it. I found some herbs that will make it tastier. You’re cool with that, right?”
With a nod, I manage a shaky smile on my lips.
As the aroma of sizzling meat fills the air, my stomach growls with hunger. With a flick of her wrist, Ettie flips the steak, and the sizzle grows more pronounced as it hits the makeshift pan.
“Ettie,” My voice, rough and scratchy, finally breaks through the silence as speak. “Are… Are we… Shouldn’t we move the…”
As our gazes intertwine, I notice a brief hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty in Ettie’s eyes. She opens her mouth, as if about to speak, but her voice gets caught in her throat, leaving her speechless.

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nstead, she offers a tight-lipped smile, her eyes pleading silently to let it go.
“How about we eat before anything else, Aline? We better not wait or the steak will be cold.”
She says, the words flowing from her lips like a practiced monologue, as she’s desperately seeking affirmation.
Taking a quick glance back, I am confronted with the sight of Elijah’s lifeless and bloodied form on the ground, intensifying the weight of the choice we both
Dear
Ettie serves the sizzling steak on improvised plates, and we settle down on rough-hewn logs. The cooked meat presents itself with an enticing aroma, yet a disconcerting notion remains that it bears a resemblance to the contents within Elijah’s skull.
“You know, Elijah was the one who actually discovered and told me about this pond.”
Between bites, Ettie speaks, her voice laced with an attempt to bring normalcy to our conversation. The mere mention of the name fills me with unease, yet Ettie shows no sign of being bothered. I couldn’t ignore the manic look in her eyes; it was
wild and unsettling.
“He said there’s a ton of fish there. Let’s try to get some food later, something more satisfying than this.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to rid myself of the lingering bitter taste of the steak, but it does little to mask the storm raging within me. When Ettie looks at me, her eyes convey a sense of resolve mixed with weariness. Despite her efforts to restore normalcy to our shared reality, the burden of Elijah’s death weighs heavily on my conscience.
The hut stretches out before me, the walls and floor appearing hazy and indistinct, as if the weight of our shared horror has dulled its vibrant hues. Ettie clears her throat, shattering the suffocating silence.
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“Alina, we need to tough it out. I did what I had to do. I had no choice.”
Her words are like a lifeline, keeping me afloat in this uncertain sea. But these images keep replaying in my mind-the blood, the brutality, the life being taken
away.
“Ettie,” With great effort, I manage to speak again, my voice barely reaching a whisper. “How can you just go on like nothing’s wrong? How can you just go ahead and… Just whip up some food and casually talk about fishing?”
A solemn exchange passes between Ettie and me as our eyes meet, acknowledging the unspoken reality.
“Alina, we have no other choice. This is our only chance at getting through this. The whole game is ruthless, we can’t let guilt eat us up.”
Guilt. The word reverberates deep within me, a relentless sensation that threatens to consume any hint of composure. I shake my head vigorously, as if attempting to banish the haunting images that linger in the depths of my thoughts.
“We had a life before all this, Ettie. We had choices.” Strained, I murmur, my voice barely a whisper. “Seriously, what went wrong with us? What was I thinking when I thought this was a good idea?”
Her eyes shifting, Ettie’s attention is drawn to the distant horizon.
She remains silent, and for a brief moment, I feel a sense of relief wash over me.
A lump forms in my throat, the weight of unshed tears threatening to break
free.
“Alina.”
Ettie’s voice softens, its soothing tone a fragile refuge in the midst of turmoil. With a sigh, she pulls me towards her, her arm securely wrapped around my
shoulder.
“I did whatever is necessary to guarantee your survival. Elijah would kill you,
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claim you, take everything from us. There’s no chance I’m gonna let that happen.”
As her words reach my ears, they resonate deep within the hollow chamber of my conscience, leaving a lasting impact. Elijah, who is once a trusted ally, has now transformed into a formidable threat. The violence and brutality of it all make it hard for me to accept the choices made in the name of survival, considering who I used
to be.
I glance at the abandoned plates, the empty shells of our meal now serving as a painful reminder of the sacrifices we’ve made. Without warning, tears well up in my eyes, transforming the hut into a blurry, watery mirage. I try to hold them back, to maintain the façade of strength, but the dam breaks, and the tears spill over, leaving salty trails on my cheeks.
“Ettie,” Guilt weighs me down, making it difficult to articulate my thoughts. “I can’t… I can’t pretend like everything’s okay. I can’t forget what we did.”
“I did it. You did nothing wrong, Alina.”
A softening of Ettie’s expression reveals a vulnerability that is rarely seen. beneath her stoic exterior. As she reaches out, her hand hovers uncertainly before gently landing on my cheek. With a smile, she rests her forehead against mine, and I can feel her warm breath against my skin.
“It’s alright to have feelings. But we can’t let it control us. Our only option is to move forward, no matter what.”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face, unable to suppress the gut-wrenching sobs. “How are you not freaking out? How can you live with what we’ve done? He’s dead!”