✩ softy ✩

03

✩Running not fighting✩
03

Wendy stood in an old grocery store.
She looked down at herself. Soft pair of leggings her small pair of pink tennis shoes. Her hair to her hips. Wendy held her breath as it was the same dream every night.
"Wendy honey where are you?" The sickly voice rang in her ears.  A shiver went down her spine waking her up from the overpowering fright. Wendy broke into a sprint. Trying her best to hide. 
"Wendy Sarah Miller! Come over here now." Holding her breath Wendy felt tears in her eyes. She felt two hand grab her shoulders.
"Hi honey"

Wendy woke up with a quite gasp. wendy wiped her eyes quickly. She looked over where she remembered were Ellie last was. And she wasn't there. "Where's Ellie!" She said loudly.
"Taking a piss don't worry we didn't killer when you were sleeping." Her Tess  says sarcastically. Wendy gives her a death stare. Wendy looked at her dad. She gaged looking at his hand.
"Holy shit dad." She got up run to him. Wendy could tell he had a hairline fracture by the look of his hand.
"I'm fine." He barks. Wendy laughs at him.
"Your fine and I have blue hair. I'm wrapping it." Wendy walks over to her bag. Going trough the layers of stuff in it.

Grabbing medical tape and gauze. "Shit I don't have a spilt. I'm going to go find a stick." She tells the two a couple feet behind her. She takes her walkman. Clipping it to her waist band. Draping the headphones around her neck.
"Wait." Her dad yells. He holds something in his good hand. She walks up to him and he hands her a hand gun. Her moms hand gun. She looks at him. A mad look on her face. Wendy never. Ever. Would want to touch a gun. She has seen too much damage from them. And how a simple inch wide cylinder can kill someone in seconds. "Your mom taught you how to use it so your gonna use it." Joel said sternly. Wendy nodded making sure the safety was on before shoving it in the inside pocket of her wind breaker. Then disappeared into the dense greenery.

Walking threw the empty city nothing but silence was nice to Wendy. Only noise she heard was the soft voice of John Lennon singing beautiful boy. The occasional butterfly would fly past her.
She was used to constant cry, gaging, dry heaving, splashes, gunfire, screams that came from her life.
The life of nurse was never fun. It's full of death. But the worse thing I mean the worst thing anyone has to do is telling a family that you failed at keeping their beloved family member alive.
Something wendy had to be reminded of yesterday.
To be honest a little part of Wendy wished that the man in room 08 on floor 2 pulled the trigger. Wendy sat on a ledge of a building. Her feet dangling.
She looks down at the ring that's around her neck. Grabbing it in her hand. The soft music keeping her from exploding.
Wendy stood up. She took a deep breath before lifting one foot over the edge.
A small tear falling down her cheek.
The sweet song about a father and son still ringing in her ears.
Wendy's life wasn't good.
But it was good enough to stay? She found herself in this argument multiple times.
Once when her old apartment was set on fire. Her decision it run or stay. The one time her mother was so mad at her she beat her till she couldn't breathe. It was her decision. Her deduction to stop or keep going. Her decision to fight back the two older teens jumper her. At one point Wendy decided that she would rather feel numb then angry.
It was Wendy's decision now to fall or go find those sticks.