Imagine this.
You wake up to frantic knocking and your mom's desperate screams. Groggy and disoriented, you finally grasp the urgency: the dead are at your door.
"Run!" she yells, and with your heart pounding, you flee into the unknown.
For months...
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. . . .
I saw her standing before the gun.
She did not shake.
She did not flinch.
She was robbed of it all, left alone, numbing.
She pulls the trigger.
Her head explodes into a thousand birds.
The birds explode into leaves.
The leaves explode into stars.
The stars explode into the dreams we wake to forget, and she was the flame to all beauty the world chose to ignore.
Flinching Heart |Robert M. Drake
● ○ ●
safe and sound ▪ taylor swift
eyes open ▪ taylor swift
lead me home ▪ jamie n. commons
The Walking Dead Theme Song.
. . . .
I found 'Patient Zero' in that forsaken town, a twelve-year-old girl. Her wrists and ankles were bound with plastic packing twine when she was brought to us. She fought, but in the end, there was no bloodshed.
Her father tried to stop me, claiming he was sacrificing her for science. I brushed him off and had the guards remove him. The girl's skin was cold and gray, even after days in my care.
I couldn't find a heartbeat or pulse, but her eyes remained locked on mine like a predator's. Throughout the examination, she was silent, not hostile, and disturbingly human.
I injected her blood into the next subject. At first, he showed no reaction. I assured my superiors there was no risk of infection, requesting more children for study.
But there was a mistake. Not everyone is immune to the virus. It wasn't supposed to fail.
I am embarrassed to admit this; I've been a scientist for most of my adult life. Trained and considered one of the best, I have the IQ of a genius, but nothing could prepare me for this nightmare.
During my last attempt, the third boy, who was supposed to be dead, sat up in the morgue. I stepped back as he twisted his body grotesquely, ripping his arm free from its binds. Flesh and muscle tore away, leaving only bone protruding from his elbow.
His eyes, unrecognizable, were a sickly yellow with veiny blue streaks. He let out a growl, an animalistic sound. Though still bound to the metal table, he dragged his mutilated body across the floor.
I fled, locking the door behind me. My voice cracked as I tried to call for help, but only horrified screams answered me. The banging on the door grew louder.
The last thing I managed to say before my co-workers appeared, along with the horde, was, "God, forgive me, for I have sinned."
[ Kwang Woohyuk was found dead alongside his subordinates in the bunker lab in Seoul, Korea. By the time the last of his students managed to escape, the outbreak had already spread beyond the country's borders, plunging the world into chaos. ]
. . . . .
- falling out of touch with the remnants of humanity. Now, they embrace the descent into madness -
