𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘
- 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘
❛ from the rolling hills of suicide everyone
will run and hide screaming bloody murder
with their heads on fire. there just may be a
chance for me, m...
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On high alert, even through his panic-, Jamie could feel his pulse in the backs of his ears. He leveled the shotgun to his cheek and braced it against his shoulder. He balanced her eye to the scope and let out a gentle breath. His finger fell to the trigger, and a shot rang out through the trees.
The walker fell, and the dark smoke rose higher, turning into a large dark cloud in the sky.
"Save those rounds until ya need 'em."
The words scolded him, and beyond his control, his gun lowered. He pushed it behind him, and it hung on a strap around his body. He grabbed both his knives, strapped to his hips and held them up.
Men barked orders, but he didn't hear them. He kept himself calm, tried to keep grounded-, control his breathing. With so many biters around, your breathing meant life or death. If you freaked, you'd become one of them.
The Governor, who'd just scolded him moments before, slowly trailed his way up to the crash. He had his hand gently placed on the pistol at his hip, and peeked in the helicopter that crashed down.
"Got a breather!" He shouted. Jamie was quick to run to the man's aid. Together, they grabbed the man and gently lifted him out of the crash. They hurriedly moved him to one of the cars.
The man's groans echoed in his ears.
When he looked up to get his next move from The Governor, he saw the man's eyes trail behind him. Jamie slowly turned his head, his eyes falling on a man who'd been cut in half by the broken helicopter blade. Blood and guts covered the blade, sliding down with a glistening crimson red. Jamie swallowed and turned back fearing that the man's eyes would be back on him.
They were.
He knew what that meant.
His knees felt weak, but with sweaty hands he slowly put the knife away as he held the other tightly in his hand. He turned back towards the dead man, taking slow but not suspiciously slow steps towards. He slowly lowered himself to his knees. Somehow, killing the ones before they became monsters felt like you were taking the little bit of freedom they had left-, but if you let them turn, it would be ripped away from them. He had to get better at it. Sometimes, the best thing was to kill.
