A/N: This is my first time posting something on here, or anywhere public really. I'm currently working on a book and this is just one moment from it really. It's just a first draft of some ideas floating around so don't expect too much. I'm nowhere near satisfied with it yet. It needs to be much longer and bigger. This particular piece may not fit best under the horror genre but everything that involves around it does.
Something you need to know is that this takes place a few weeks after a zombie outbreak and this girl is one of a group of people who have baracading themselves in a church.

The night was surprisingly calm. The smell of yesterday's rain lingered on the air and the roof was still damp. I could feel the cold air wrap around me as I sat down on the wet shingles.

I sighed so heavily that I felt myself shake. I wrapped my arms around myself and pulled my knees to my chest. I held back sobs as I tried to block out the sounds of John's yelling from inside the church.

I tilted my head up toward the sky and closed my eyes. I saw black for only one peaceful moment where everything was back to normal before flashes of the day's events flashed through my mind. The screams echoed around me and the blood drowned me in fear. My eyes snapped open with tears in them and what I saw above me, made me truly question what was left of my sanity.

I either had to be seeing things or I was crazy and nothing actually happened those past few weeks; no outbreak, no epidemic, no death, no horror. The idea of me being strapped down in a white padded room, creating realities, didn't sound too bad right now. But there was no way what I was seeing and what was happening around me were both happening at the same time.

Above me, I saw lights moving across the dark November sky, the lights of a flying plane. I was seeing a plane fly above me, like the world wasn't falling to pieces.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe the whole world wasn't falling apart. Maybe the infection only attacked us. Maybe everyone else was safe in their warm beds tonight. Maybe no one knows about what's happened to us.

How could that be possible? How could they not know?

The U.S. had to talk to other countries. Wouldn't they wonder why everyone suddenly stopped responding? Authorities would have to know something went wrong somewhere. They'd have to send help. Maybe they did.

Maybe they were searching, sending help all over. Maybe that's what that plane was for. Maybe they were searching for us, trying to help us.

Maybe there was still hope!

Or maybe I was just seeing things.

Had I gotten to that point already? Had I broken down to the point where I'm seeing false hope? Had I given up on those people in that church already?

Was that the first step towards insanity; the first step to ending up how Delilah did? I didn't want to end up like her, cold dead on the church floor with a gun in her hand, still telling us it's all over.

But stepping off of that roof would have been so easy. I could have ended it all then, not let the insanity eat away at me; because it would. It would eat away at me until all I was was a pathetic shell of a person, paranoid and holding a shaking gun to my head, or worse, someone else, someone alive.

God, I wanted that plane to be real so badly just so I knew I wasn't going insane yet. I just wanted hope, that's all.

"Hey." A soothing voice behind me called and made me jump out of my thoughts of insanity. It was then I realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the back of my cold hand and turned around to see Paul climbing through the window out towards me. I hadn't even noticed the yelling stopped from inside.

"Hey." I forced a smile and realized my voice was cracked and weaker than I thought it would be. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he could see right through me and see how distraught I was inside.

I turned away from him, not wanting him to know. I could hear him come up behind me and sit down next to me. I just kept wiping the endless tears from my cheeks and looked up to find the lights from the plane nowhere in sight.

Paul draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his chest where I shook and cried, still wondering if I was insane, praying that I wouldn't end up insane and aim a gun at him.

I gripped his cross necklace with one hand and wished it was all over.