the real people| TWD

twenty-six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX,
Gun Training.

Kenny Pelletier
Gun Training

               Kenny held the two guns in his sweaty palms as he anxiously made his way towards the teenage girl and her intimidating aunt. His own gun was tucked into the back waistband of his pants, hidden by his oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt; it was Richard's, all the kids were starting to get more and more hand-me-downs lately.

Richard and Kenny got a lot of hand-me-downs from Maggie, they were her brothers. Whenever Richard got new clothes, his went to Kenny; and when Kenny got new clothes, they went to Micheal or Carl.

His gaze lifted from the guns to lock with Beth's as she watched him walk over.

He swallowed thickly, stopping a few feet in front of them. "Here 'ya go". He handed Patricia her gun as she eyed him suspiciously, then Beth hers. Their fingers brushed as she took the handle of the gun into her own hands. Kenny could feel the warmth in his cheeks as a smile stretched across his face. "Just wanna' start off by saying I do not have an STD".

Patricia cocked up her eyebrows, quickly looking at the teenage girl standing besides her. Beth forced down a smirk, hiding her amusement with a half-hearted glare. Kenny had said it to lighten the mood, or maybe even make them laugh, but there was a deadpan expression on both their faces that immediately haltered his amusement. His smile fell and he clenched his jaw, looking down at the ground as he pulled out his own gun. "I, just, uh... wanted to clarify".

"Funny", Patricia said unenthusiastically.

Beth looked at her aunt and gave her a tight lipped smile before turning back to Kenny, "Well, show us how it's done, casanova".

Kenny stared at her for a moment, surprised she was still even talking to him after this morning. He forced down a smile and nodded, lifting his gun to instruct them.

Micheal Pelletier
Gun Training

The Pelletier boys were raised to be survivors. Micheal was only six years old when he shot a gun for the first time; eight when he first killed a living thing. It was a rabbit, a small, gray rabbit with a white belly and a tiny pink nose. He had held the pellet gun with trembling hands.

His lip quivered and he fought back tears that he tried desperately to hide; but when he pulled the trigger he became a sobbing mess and as the bunny twitched out its last few breaths, Micheal received a beating besides it.

There's a scar behind his ear where his father slammed the butt of his gun onto his head once hearing the stifled sob. The hit that sent him falling to the ground besides the sweet bunny. In some way, he felt like he died on the floor with it.

A few months after the rabbit incident; his father had decided it was time to take Micheal to the shooting range with his brothers. He remembers the impatient shouting and angry demands as if it were yesterday. After that, it was gun ranges and hunting trips for years to come, although Micheal never really participated during them. He simply followed along with a gun in his hands, but Micheal knew how to shoot; All the Pelletier kids did.

Micheal side eyed Carl as he awkwardly adjusted himself before fixing his attention back to the 'No Trespassing' sign below the piece of wood his last bottle sat on. He looked at Carl again and watched as he hesitantly wrapped his finger around the trigger. He paused for a moment, then let go and back on, this repeated a couple times before finally firing off the gun.