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“Are you one of them?”

The question hung in the air after it left Sarah’s lips, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of her. It was cracked and crumbling just like every other building around her. Just like the dry skin of her hands as they twisted uncomfortably at the silence that came. Rough calluses combined with the peeling of her fingers served as a reminder. A reminder that her skin was real, that her thoughts were real, and that the boy beside her...was likely not. At least not anymore.

“It's okay, you can tell me if you are.” She continued when there was nothing but the whistle of wind rushing past her ears, hurrying to correct herself in concern of scaring off her only friend. “I don't mind. I just…” She paused, ignoring the tears threatening to fall. “I want to know if I can stop looking. I want this to be done.”

She looked back over at the pale boy whose lips were still sealed shut, knees pulled to his chest. His clothes, unlike hers, were pristine in a way almost incomprehensible for the world around them. He looked so perfect in the midst of it all, so unblemished. She wished she could reach out and touch him. She was too afraid to try.

She needed to know.

“Please.” She hated the way her voice cracked when she spoke. It sounded as if she were a dog begging for a scrap of food...Not that she was above that. She would do anything for a decent meal, but she hadn't found many people to even have the chance to ask.

Depending on his answer, that could easily change to not finding many to finding none. She didn't want to have to think about that right now, but as he finally opened his mouth, looking as if he hadn't taken in a breath at all, she braced for the worst.

“I am. I'm sorry.”

He looked at her, and for the first time, she really looked back. Looked into the green of his eyes and saw it. Saw the way the green had lost the liveliness of the nature that surrounded them. They had lost the spunk that life always seemed to carry with it. Like that of a freshly chopped down tree, his light was fading. His eyes were dying.

He was already dead.

Grandma always said eyes were the gateway to one's soul.

She let out a shaky breath as she turned her face away, letting the tears tingle her face as they slid down her dirty cheeks.

Wordlessly, she got to her feet, tattered dress feeling as if it were weighing her down. For a moment she wondered if the world was trying to tug her down deeper and deeper until she suffocated into the earth. She almost wished it would.

Nevertheless, she turned around and smiled, like she always did. She held out her hand as she had so many times before, watched him raise his to try and get pulled up by her. It went right through, just as they both knew it would. She almost believed she saw tears reflecting in his eyes as she pulled away, but that's impossible. Dead people don't cry, even if sometimes, she wished they could. Then maybe she wouldn't have the only tears in the world.

“It's okay. I'll keep looking.” She said as she turned and slid down the wall, facing where the boy sat, still. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

The boy smiled, but she felt nothing. She cared for no one anymore- there was no reason to. He disappeared, faded back into the air she breathed, and the tears stopped.

She was alone.

The last person alive in this hell.