Suspicion

I don't trust him.

Popping up out of nowhere, offering unsolicited help, tagging along where he isn't needed...

why is he here?

So far, we seem safe.  All this moving has kept me out of the line of sight and for that I'm grateful.  Even ploughing through bodies is somewhat of a relief.  It gets my mind off of something like that happening to me.

I'm getting better at it.  Turning off the part of my mind that screams at the horror of knife-plunging, blood-flowing, killing, killing, killing.  Turning off the part of my mind that scampers into a corner and cowers in fear as someone edges closer and closer.

I'm getting better at protecting, defending, hiding, sneaking, surprising.  I'm getting better at carving, slashing, hacking, slicing.

...but why is he here?

Who is he?

Was he sent by that maggot who called me his wife?

Was he hired by thugs to drag my dead body back home?

Is he someone we can trust?

Time will tell.

But in the meantime...

...I'm getting better.