whiskey talking, but fuck being subtle. I've had it with hiding. There is nothing out there that is going to break me. What could, at this point? All you can do is kill me and I welcome it. I unlock the garage door, not the one going into the house, the one leading outside. Here we go.
I pull the door open. It slides onto the track leading above my head. The glory of the destroyed neighborhood that was once very normal is a bit overwhelming. I scan the area for the dead. There are a few. They can't stop me. Not now, not ever. I leave and don't look back. I dart across the yard into the street. I'll take this side street all the way to the main road. I'm bound to find a car or something. I'm going to get out of this town. A few of the dead notice me. I shoot them in the legs. I know I'm not going to kill them, so I just slow them down. The first six rounds don't last long. I'm digging through my pockets for the bullets already. I need to be more conservative. I manage to reload while running at the same time. I look up and see the aftermath of a car accident. A bad one too. This car is flipped upside down. There's glass everywhere. I think I know this car. Oh, God. I do recognize this car. My unstoppable immortal feeling leaves me. I walk around to the driver's side. I look down at the driver. I knew it. God damn it, I knew it.
Act IV
The Scent of Death Herself
There she is. After what felt like an eternity of restless lonely nights and worrying myself to a point of sickness, she is right in front of me. Looking up at me with her blood shot eyes, pupils clouded over a thick milky white. Her eyes are filled with longing, hunger, and a bit of what I can only describe as pure rage. Her eyes dart side to side and her jaw shakes out of urgency to take a bite out of me. I've never seen her look at me like that before. Mixed emotions like the excitement of finally getting to lay eyes on her clash with the horror of watching her teeth crack as she snaps at my ankles. Her, once porcelain perfect, face is now grayed and cracked. The skin on her cheek bones has tightened around the cusp, making her skeletal features eerily distinguishable. The cheeks themselves have sunken in and you can make out her teeth in several small tears grouped together on the left side of her face. Once again she has me freezing like a deer in the headlights about to get hit head on by a car. I feel weak. My eyes well up and I fall to my knees.
"Oh, God. Why?"
Ironic question for a man who doesn't believe in God. Not sure why but, that's the first thing I think.
I notice her hand is reaching out for me. I have to stop myself from reaching back. If she gets a hold of me.. How did I get to this? How could everything get this bad? These past days have felt like a nightmare that I could wake up from at any moment. Now, of all times. Right when I had just manned up and accepted things I get hit with this. I wonder if I could've saved her if I just came out when my instincts told me to. I wonder if she suffered long. The more I think about it, the weaker I become. I know what the right decision is and I am the only one around to make it. I need to end her suffering.
The revolver that was once her father's is gripped tightly in my hand. I press it against her forehead. I'm not sure if I can do this. How could I? I love her. I wrap my finger around the trigger. I turn my head so I don't have to see the horrible act I'm about to commit. Sniveling and shaking like a wounded child. I open my eyes and notice something. There's somebody in the passenger side, hanging loosely by their seatbelt. Whoever it is, they aren't moving. They probably died in the crash. It's.. it's a guy? I crawl in closer and notice something I would have rather not known. The tight shirt wearing, football watching douche bag from across the street. The same one that
I pull the door open. It slides onto the track leading above my head. The glory of the destroyed neighborhood that was once very normal is a bit overwhelming. I scan the area for the dead. There are a few. They can't stop me. Not now, not ever. I leave and don't look back. I dart across the yard into the street. I'll take this side street all the way to the main road. I'm bound to find a car or something. I'm going to get out of this town. A few of the dead notice me. I shoot them in the legs. I know I'm not going to kill them, so I just slow them down. The first six rounds don't last long. I'm digging through my pockets for the bullets already. I need to be more conservative. I manage to reload while running at the same time. I look up and see the aftermath of a car accident. A bad one too. This car is flipped upside down. There's glass everywhere. I think I know this car. Oh, God. I do recognize this car. My unstoppable immortal feeling leaves me. I walk around to the driver's side. I look down at the driver. I knew it. God damn it, I knew it.
Act IV
The Scent of Death Herself
There she is. After what felt like an eternity of restless lonely nights and worrying myself to a point of sickness, she is right in front of me. Looking up at me with her blood shot eyes, pupils clouded over a thick milky white. Her eyes are filled with longing, hunger, and a bit of what I can only describe as pure rage. Her eyes dart side to side and her jaw shakes out of urgency to take a bite out of me. I've never seen her look at me like that before. Mixed emotions like the excitement of finally getting to lay eyes on her clash with the horror of watching her teeth crack as she snaps at my ankles. Her, once porcelain perfect, face is now grayed and cracked. The skin on her cheek bones has tightened around the cusp, making her skeletal features eerily distinguishable. The cheeks themselves have sunken in and you can make out her teeth in several small tears grouped together on the left side of her face. Once again she has me freezing like a deer in the headlights about to get hit head on by a car. I feel weak. My eyes well up and I fall to my knees.
"Oh, God. Why?"
Ironic question for a man who doesn't believe in God. Not sure why but, that's the first thing I think.
I notice her hand is reaching out for me. I have to stop myself from reaching back. If she gets a hold of me.. How did I get to this? How could everything get this bad? These past days have felt like a nightmare that I could wake up from at any moment. Now, of all times. Right when I had just manned up and accepted things I get hit with this. I wonder if I could've saved her if I just came out when my instincts told me to. I wonder if she suffered long. The more I think about it, the weaker I become. I know what the right decision is and I am the only one around to make it. I need to end her suffering.
The revolver that was once her father's is gripped tightly in my hand. I press it against her forehead. I'm not sure if I can do this. How could I? I love her. I wrap my finger around the trigger. I turn my head so I don't have to see the horrible act I'm about to commit. Sniveling and shaking like a wounded child. I open my eyes and notice something. There's somebody in the passenger side, hanging loosely by their seatbelt. Whoever it is, they aren't moving. They probably died in the crash. It's.. it's a guy? I crawl in closer and notice something I would have rather not known. The tight shirt wearing, football watching douche bag from across the street. The same one that
Similar Books
