"Maria... please..." Kelly, my best friend since we were four years old, asks. Her gut pouring with sticky red blood. My leak with salty tears. "Please... Keep him... Safe..." Her eyes turn cold.
"Kell... K-Kelly... pl...please..." I splutter, my body shaking, as she dies in my arms. I hug her to me, her baby boy is taken away to the other side of the room, to a settee, by my little brother, George. His young eyes up to mine.
He's only twelve, but has seen to much. We have the same mouse brown hair, except mine has blonde hightlights, he has amber eyes whereas I have brown, we're the same height at 5'4.
Kelly's blonde hair droops, she was one of those teenaged mothers at only fifteen, shunned by society, only our families and some youth workers treated her like a human being. Then, two years later, everyone that helped her, minus us four, was murdered.
The world too populated, they were the people helping young mothers, so they were killed. We managed to survive for a couple of years, she just went out for a bottle of water as the water mains don't work. She was shot in the gut; she barely managed her way home.
She made me promise to look after her baby, Tom, to make sure that nothing would happen to him. I would do that anyway, afterall, he bonded with me too. Our life was; me and George, bio-siblings, who would do anything for each other; Kelly and Tom, mother and son; Kelly and I, sisters of the heart, knowing someone for fifteen years does that to someone; Kelly and George, also like siblings; George and I are like aunt and uncle to Tom.
"Maria," George's soft voice makes me look up. "We need to go, th-... The people tha- that did this... They'll guess about us, they'll come looking."
I nod in slowly in response. I take Kelly's body to another room.
"I'm so sorry, Kell." I mutter, fresh tears streaming down my face, I cover her long body with a white sheet. I walk slowly into my bedroom, grab three bags, shove them full of clothes, the lightest for Tom.
I give George and Tom a bag each, I fill mine with food, clothes and shoes. George's has linin and his clothes. I put a couple of knives into my and George's bags. I slide a knife into the back of my jeans.
"C'mon," I say quietly, grasping Tom's hand in my left, George grabs Tom's other hand. "Let's go."
We walk through some alleys, my ears look out for anyone coming.
"Mummy's gone isn't she?" A little voice makes me look down at Tom. I bite down on my lip, my eyes brewing and I nod shortly. Tom nods to himself, tears streaming down his face. George smiles weakly at me as we head for the rual parts of town.