The horseman’s gaze sweeps over these people.

“Countless days I have been enslaved. Tortured and killed only to rise again. None of you helped.” The silence stretches out. “Did you think you were truly safe from me?”

Wait. What?

I glance at the horseman with wide eyes as my horror begins to grow.

He shakes his head, and that smile of his is back. “You were never safe. Not then and especially not now. Your crops will die, your homes will fall. You and everything you’ve ever loved will perish.”

I don’t feel the earthquake coming. One moment I’m standing on solid ground, the next moment it seems to violently buckle, throwing me forward. I hit the asphalt hard, my basket and the jabuticabas inside scattering across the crumbling road.

Over the screams, I hear strange, groaning noises, then the ripping sounds of buildings coming down. All the while the earth continues to shake.

I cover my head and curl up on myself, waiting for it to be over.

A few years ago there was another massive earthquake that hit our town, knocking down an alarming number of buildings and burying dozens of people alive.

Now, it’s happening again.

It goes on and on, and all I can do is curl in on myself and cover my head. It feels like an eternity before the earthquake finally abates.

Tentatively, I lower my arms. Dust is still settling around me, but it looks … it looks like Anitápolis has been leveled. Just … wiped away.

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.

As I stare, more screams start up. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shut out the noise. Then that, too, goes quiet. All I can hear is my ragged breathing.

Eventually I force my eyes open and just … take in the horror. There are more strange plants holding more limp bodies in their grips.

And now the world is truly silent.

I’m not sure there’s a single soul left.

Except for me—me and the horseman.

For several long moments, I cannot speak. I keep trying to, but words fail me.

I make a sound low in my throat, something that builds into a wail.

At the noise, Famine glances my way. He saunters over and reaches a hand out to me.

I stare up at him, ignoring his hand. “You told me there was nothing to fear.” My voice sounds off.

“Nothing for you to fear,” Famine corrects. “I never promised the same for anyone else.”

I take a few stuttering breaths.

How could I have just let him come here into my town?

This is my fault.

“Is anyone … ?” Alive? I can’t bring myself to say it.

Turns out, I don’t need to.

“You are,” Famine says, his expression remorseless as he stares at me.

That’s … it?

What have I done?

What. Have. I. Done?

I thought compassion was a virtue. That’s what made me save the horseman. So why am I being punished for it?

This is my bad luck, showing up again.

Famine nods to the town. “Grab what you need, then hurry back. I’m eager to leave this place.”

Eager to leave … ? With me?

Surely he’s not serious?

I give him a wild look. “What are you talking about?”

“Get your things,” he says again, gesturing down what’s left of the street.

I follow where he’s pointing. There’s nothing even left to gather. My entire town is nothing but rubble.

Another low moan escapes my throat. My cousins are gone. So is my aunt.

I feel a tear escape, then another. There will be no beating or disownment awaiting my return because my aunt isn’t alive to deliver any of it. The thought breaks something inside of me. She always disliked me; she’d look at me like she saw something no one else did. Something bad. I suddenly feel like her disgust towards me was merited.

My carelessness killed my entire town.

“I’m not going with you,” I whisper, still staring out at the destruction. Reality is beginning to sink in. I’m not sure I ever wanted to be me less than I do right now.

“Of course you are,” Famine says.

“You just murdered”—my voice breaks—“the only family I have.”

He gives me a curious look. “They should have saved me. They didn’t.”

“They didn’t know.” At least I didn’t know—and I couldn’t possibly have been the only person in this town to not know.

Nearby, Famine’s horse whinnies. Guess that fucker survived the wreckage too. Bet he’s a dick, just like his rider.

“Grab your things,” the horseman repeats.

“I’m not going with you,” I say again, this time more resolute.

He exhales, clearly impatient with me. “There’s nothing left for you here.”

My body is beginning to shake. I pinch my eyes shut, willing away the last few minutes.

I hear the horseman take a step towards me. My eyes snap open and I shrink back. “Stay away from me,” I say.

He frowns. “You showed me kindness when I’d all but forgotten it existed. I won’t harm you, flower,” he says, his voice soft. “But now you must get up. I have lingered in these parts for far too long.”

More tears are coming; they silently drip down my cheeks. “This is all my fault,” I say, taking in my surroundings. Everything is so still.

“They were always going to die,” Famine says, his expression turning stony. “I would’ve torn this town apart even if you had never cared for me.”

I think that’s supposed to make me feel better. It doesn’t.

“Now,” he says, a note of steel entering his voice. “Get. Up.”

Getting up means dealing with this situation. I’m most definitely not ready for that. I wrap my arms around myself instead.

The horseman steps in close, placing a warm palm against my shoulder. Instinctively, I flinch away.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.

My eyes fall to the basket that’s rolled meters away, and regret sits heavy in my stomach.

Near my basket a thorny bush begins to grow, rising higher by the second. Leaves unfurl, the plant fills out, and from it blooms a delicate lavender-grey rose.

Famine plucks the flower from the bush and hands it to me, thorns and all.

“I won’t leave you,” the horseman says fiercely. For a moment, he sounds like the Famine I got to know last night. Someone who seemed to have a heart. “Get on my horse. Come with me. Please.”

I don’t take the rose. “I healed you, and you killed everyone I loved. Fuck you and your rose. Just … go.” I begin to weep.

It’s all finally starting to process.

Oh God, is it processing.

After a long minute, the horseman sets the rose on the broken ground in front of me.

“I won’t force you to stay with me. Not after …” He glances off in the distance, his eyes unfocused. He blinks away his thoughts, his attention returning to me. “Your choice is your own, but if you care for your life at all, then you should come with me.”

And witness more death?

I’d rather take my chances in this rotten world.

My gaze meets his. I should’ve never helped you.

The horseman must see it in my expression because, for an instant, something flickers across his features. I’d say it was regret or surprise, but who knows?