I haven't finished The Last Of Us 😅 I'm starting episode 5.
I sat on the cold, uneven ground with my head in my hands, unable to contain my sobs. Next to me was my son with a bullet wound to his head, loosely holding a gun. The fresh smell of gun powder. I tried to stop him but it was to late. He shot himself. His eyes are open, looking at the sky. We had gone through a lot the past few months, no more then anyone else.
I have to keep going, but it feels wrong just leaving him here like this. I heard some snarling and my eyes widened, scrambling to get up. I looked in each direction, not seeing the infected in sight. I know I heard it though.
I reached down to grab the gun out of my son's hand, a feeling of guilt and dread in my stomach. My breathing got a bit unsteady as I looked around again, hearing multiple pairs of footsteps. I still didn't see anyone though. This is driving me insane. I grabbed the knife from my son's bag, holding the gun in one hand and the knife with the other.
I stepped back and I felt a crack underneath me. Instinctively, I looked down and saw a twig. Shit. I heard some rushing footsteps and saw an infected running towards me. I looked down at my son, seeing his bag beside him.
"I'm sorry, sweetie." I whispered, grabbing the bag.
I looked away from my sons body and saw the infected to close for comfort. I felt my body fall backwards, an infected on top of me snarling and trying to bite me. In the struggle, I dropped my weapons, leaving just me and my fists.
I tried my best to keep it's mouth a safe distance for me. I tried to push it off of me but it's to strong. Before it could do anything else, I saw someone's boot jam into the infected's head, knocking it off of me, followed by ear piercing gun shots.
I looked at the dead infected beside me and scrambled away from the alive and dead, my breathing fast. I got up and grabbed my son's bag and weapons, raising the gun towards who..basically saved my life.
I now got a good look at them. It was an older man who also had a gun towards me and a young girl looking between the two of us, seeing who's going to shoot their gun first. I don't want to shoot the man who just saved me, but I don't know if he wants to shoot me.
"Who's that?" the man asked, hearing a Texan accent.
He was motioning his head down to my son.
"Why is that your business?" I asked, keeping my gun steady.
"Contemplatin on whether I should let you go. ..." he stated "...Did you shoot him?"
Anger flared up in me and my jaw clenched, gripping the gun harder. I'll shoot this prick before he even gets the chance to press the trigger.
"Who do you think I am?" I snapped.
"I don't know. Answer my question."
"Of course I didn't!..." I angered out "...Why would I shoot my own son?"
I watched the scowl fall off his face, his eyes going to my son briefly before darting back to me. I watched his grip on the gun loosen.
"Lower your gun. ..." he stated "...I'm not gonna shoot you."
I shook my head, still gripping my gun. I stepped back a little, sighing deeply. I don't know if I believe him. My foot hit the bottom of my son's shoe and I closed my eyes, exhaling deeply. I can't leave him here like this. I at least need to move him out of sight of everyone.
"You first." I breathed out.
I watched his facial expression turn reluctant, slightly shaking his head. He didn't want to go first either. I stood my ground, my gun still trained on him, wondering how we were both going to get out of this.
