James Potter's guide to survive in a post-apocalyptic world

Don't hurt yourself. (you will regret it)

It was a lie to say James was feeling better. Because he wasn't.

The traumatism was still very present in his mind, plaguing every thought. Every day that followed he couldn't stop thinking of the life he took, of the feeling of that gun in his hand, that gun with the weird skull symbol on the side, of the deep red that would follow him even behind his eyelids when his eyes were closed.

Sirius and Peter didn't like that, it was easy to say. James noticed the way they looked worriedly at each other each time James would shut down, on the brink of a panic-attack.

They had found a cabin in the woods the day after the altercation. It was a bit small for three people but it wasn't a problem for the three boys who would spend each night huddled up together for comfort.

Peter, being the most strategist of the trio, had placed traps around the place for their security. Had dug holes and put up other stuff James didn't understand but which were protecting them from the dangerous unknown of the outside. He always made sure they had at least one blade near them each and that they were always sharp.

James trusted Peter and Sirius did too.

"Fuck!"

James' head snapped up to look in the direction Peter had yelled from.

"Pete?!" He shouted back at the same time Sirius did from inside the house. When there was no answer, James was on his feet in less than a second.

James and Sirius nearly crashed into each other as they ran outside, only to find Peter his face as white as a sheet and holding his right hand with his left one. There was blood everywhere.

"Oh lord." Sirius barely whispered, his face as pale as Peter's. Could he not stand the sight of blood?

"Peter what happened," James asked quickly, sliding on his knees to take a look at Peter's hand.

"I was cutting a rope and-" Peter swallowed harshly, his entire body trembling.

"Sirius, go get the first aid kit."

" James his finger is in the grass…"

"Sirius please, it's not the time to- wait what?!" James yelled, looking at Sirius who was staring at the grass.

With a trembling hand, Sirius pointed at it, where the ominous figure of severed finger was. James repressed the urge to gag before he swiftly uncovered Peter's hand and looked.

Where Peter's index finger was supposed to be, there was nothing but blood and a hint of white. James tried not to think too hard about it or he would be sick.

"Sirius! Our first aid kit!" James repeated loudly. Fuck, there was so much blood…

He couldn't tear his eyes away from it but he heard Sirius shift beside him and could only hope he had left. James knew very little of first aid and at that moment he wished they would teach the basics in school.