Morgan's moaning only quickened as she clung even more tightly to Tyler and kept rythmically pressing herself against him.

If I didn't do anything to stop her, she was going to climax. I remembered what Chris had told me. If she reached that point, Tyler would definitely get infected.

"Get her off!" Tyler screamed.

I stood and searched the washroom for anything I could use to pry Morgan off.

The first thing I saw was the scarf my mom was making for Haley. I pulled one of the knitting needles from the loops of yarn.

Morgan was whimpering now. She was grinding on top of Tyler with a horrifying speed. She'd locked her fingernails into the back of his neck, and she still hadn't let go of his ear with her teeth.

For a moment I thought about the night when I'd watched Mr. Hershel forcing himself on Morgan. I remembered how I hadn't been able to bring myself to shoot him, and how Ian had needed to take the gun from me and do it himself.

But Ian wasn't here now.

It was up to me to act.

Morgan started squealing. She arched her back. Any second now, she was going to climax. There was only one thing I could do to stop her.

I didn't let myself think about what I was doing.

I put the tip of the knitting needle into her ear. Then I jammed it inside as hard as I could. There was a faint crunching sound.

Instantly, Morgan collapsed.

Tyler slid away, backing himself into the corner of the washroom. He was sobbing.

There was a loud knocking at the front door.

"Home Guard!" someone shouted "Open now!" I heard my mom shriek with relief and rush to let them in. She must have called the Home Guard herself when she'd seen Morgan prowling around the house.

But I couldn't move. All I could do was kneel there, frozen, while Tyler cowered in the corner and Morgan's body lay slumped against my knee.

I'd just killed my best friend.

I tried to understand this fact, but I just felt numb. I knew I needed to stand up and run, but I couldn't.

The Home Guard's booted footsteps pounded through the kitchen toward me.

But all I could do was look mutely at my right hand. It was like it belonged to somebody else. My fingers were still tightly clasped around the knitting needle, and covered in Morgan's blood.

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