Dead. Dead. Alive.

1 - Soph

𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚

~

(present day)

Soph stared at herself. It was the first time she'd seen her reflection in a really long while.

Well shit, I need coffee.

Her tangled hair was wrestled into a braid that reached her thighs, she had eye bags, bruises, and her lips were chapped. She looked like a girl who hadn't slept in two days. Which she hadn't, unsurprisingly.

What did you expect? Hanna- Soph tried to cut the thought off, but it was too late. She killed him. She shook her head and concentrated on her reflection. She supposed she could look worse, her cargo pants and flannel mostly clean.
Not that it mattered much, no one alive would be there to notice. I wonder if zombies prefer pretty girls? Or maybe the ones that look like nerds, cause they want to eat brains-

She giggled.

Then started laughing. It was an insane kind of laugh, a laugh of someone who realized that they were staring at a mirror in an abandoned home pondering about zombie meals. Slowly, she sank to the floor, trying to muffle her maniacal laughter. It hurt. I can't breathe- fuckfuckfuck- Soph calmed herself, swiping at stray tears and collecting herself.

Okay, good. Now, think. Why are you here?

She was here because she had been too tired to keep running. She was here because of Hanna. Well, that wasn't strictly true, Hanna had to kill him. Everything went to hell, and she ran. Newt was dead. Dead only a few weeks after they helped Kaz, a vicious girl who'd been shot.

"It's not that bad. Just gonna have to take the bullet out." Newt said.

"Why did you say that so casually?" Kaz asked.

If she were the superstitious type, she'd bet her nonexistent money that Kaz had sent bad luck their way. But she wasn't. There was no magic in this world. It was entirely their fault. The team, herself, Hanna and Newt, fell to pieces. All because of a bite. And now she was paying for it by sitting on the floor of some dead person's house. The dude's probably a flesh-eating corpse. It's not intruding if they're technically dead.

"Right. Go downstairs, grab whatever's necessary, head for the coast," she stood up, and grabbed her bag from where she left it on the bed. It was a basic bedroom, a small bed, a desk and chair, a mirror. Lords, she desperately wanted to sleep. But Soph knew she couldn't. Not secure. From the window, she could see some old zombies wandering around in the yard.

I need coffee.

Steeling herself, she left the room. 

~

𝙒𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨

𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢

// AND CHAPTER 1!!! Anyone mildly relating to Soph rn? Cuz I am TvT - anything I should change about my writing? Also apocalypse lyrics, I need more! Find me some? <3 Next chapter is not in her POV btw