"Sleeper"

She woke up before I killed her. I think I'll always remember her face, that look of confusion. No shock, no fear, just confusion, uncertainty as to what was going on.

I did it as quick and painlessly as possible. She still made a sobbing sound as the knife went in. If my soul has not been blackened by my years of war, it was certainly made so by that sound. I know I am in Hell, but I will certainly go to a worse one when I die, as punishment for the evil I have committed, necessary or not.

But, as usual, I have begun at the end.

It started at night when I had rested my bones for several hours. I woke to find Blair and Georgia still talking over something and I instructed both of them to sleep, while I watched over. Both said they weren't tired, but I could see that Georgia was filled with weariness. She hadn't slept since we rescued her. Perhaps she was afraid, so I tried to reassure her that we would still be here when she awoke, that she could sleep safely.

I was a fool, of course. Even in my old age, with many days behind me, I was a fool. A sad, pitiful fool.

She was asleep for around half an hour before she sat up unexpectedly. I turned to check on her and I saw that her eyes were still tightly closed. I called her name, but she did not answer. Instead, she stood up. She walked differently, as if she wasn't the one walking, but someone else. She began to walk down to the nearest road.

Blair went to stop her, but I held them back. "Let's find out where she's going," I said. "We'll follow her and protect her from any other players, but...let's just see how this plays out."

Blair looked at me like I was crazy. And perhaps I was. Letting a girl like that go sleepwalking just to satisfy my curiosity. But I did.

She walked and we followed. She slipped into one of the Pawn Shops and went up to the counter. We pretended to browse the aisles and listened in.

"Knife," she said to the club-faced men.

"What kind of knife would you like, Ms. Orr?" the club-faced man said.

"Hunting knife," she said. "Sharp." It was her voice, but it sounded strange, like it wasn't used to talking.

The club-faced man gave her a large knife that she could probably skin a wild animal with. "I have subtracted one hundred and forty points from your account, Ms. Orr," the club-faced man said.

Blair looked at me quizzically. If she had over a hundred and forty points, what was she doing with no food or supplies?

She left the Pawn Shop and we followed. I caught a glimpse of her face and her eyes were still closed, she was still sleeping. Something else was walking around, using her as a suit.

Pretty soon, she ran into another girl, a girl with a bandaged arm. The girl stopped and asked, "Do you know where the nearest hospital is? I need to get there pretty bad. I can trade you some food if you-"

Georgia looked at her with closed eyes and swung her new hunting knife. The girl's throat slit open and we could see the blood pour.

I couldn't stop Blair from rushing forward then. They grabbed Georgia's arm and tried to pull her away. She struggled with them, trying to slash downward, to cut them, to spill their blood.

I pried the knife from her fingers. That didn't stop her. She charged at us, kicking and hitting, like a demon, but we pinned her to the ground. Still she struggled, like there was a demon inside her bursting to get out.

Blair looked at me desperately. "Why did she do that?"

"You can tell it ain't her," I said. "She's still sleeping."

Blair looked back down at her. "Something's grabbed ahold of her. Something else's in the driver's seat while she's asleep."

"Yes," I said. "And we got no rope to tie her down, no points to buy rope."

"So what do we do?" Blair asked.

I held up the hunting knife, the one still red with a poor girl's blood on it. "No," Blair whispered.

"We can't leave her to kill more," I said. "We don't have any other choice." She was still struggling, so Blair had to hold her down as I readied the knife. Blair looked at Georgia with pity in his eyes as I silently prayed that he look away when I did the deed.

She woke up before I killed her. Just a second before the knife went in, she opened her eyes. She could see us. She looked so confused.

Afterwards, we didn't say anything. We carried her body to one of the hospitals, since we didn't have shovels to dig a proper grave. They said that they would take care of her. We didn't ask how.

Blair hasn't talked since then. I'm worried that they've reached the point - what we called the point of no return during the war. It's that moment when a person knows just how much death they are willing to take, and either accepts it or puts a bullet in their brain.

I wish to God that never happens.