I could go on telling a story of my life, about how it sucked after the outbreak...but that wouldn't help worth a shit. So along the lines of it all we were forgotten and left to die by the world. What the hell kinda death is that though!?Why not ma...
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The painting was still fresh, it hung proudly over the desk of any empty office.
We cleared the first two floors of a condo, some cabinets were still stocked with cans, when ever this place was hit, it must have been early in.
I stared at the painting, my life before all of this hell revolved around paintings like this. I could hardly remember a time when I didn't spend in my school's art room, locked with all of the paintings, all the expressions that I was left to figure out.
Marcus found me in the supply closet of a shop aproxamenrly three days ago.
Since then I have received threats, small and empty ones that I hardly took to heart, the girl Mika is a mouthy one.
She is like her sister in so many ways: temperamental for starters and a nag. I can see the way she looks at the boy though: Sam, the shy one that barely lived this long because of his former family. Mika likes him and he is a wall.
I am Dawn, younger than 30 and still fearful of catching an STD like the dead. I was only 16 when this all happened. High school, family, hormones, boys, all the trouble in the world on a girls mind.
My father had been a mechanic at the auto shop nextdoor to our house. My mother was a child care provider, or a babysitter as I called her.
I had but one sibling, a 5 year old brother with a nack for drawing all over the walls. He was a wild one, Jamal: always crying over the smallest things and running my parents up the walls for a candy he couldn't pronounce the name of-
"Hey!", Marcus snapped me back, he loomed over me to much.
"You've been quiet all morning. ", he had concern or doubts over me; understandable based where he picked me up at.
" Yeah, just lost in though. ", it was true. Those two days in that closer really get you thinking, the dead were just a complication to life now another possible way to die is all.
" What about?", he wanted to know of me, Annabella was just waiting around the corner, I can tell because he didn't know yet. He was the only one I've seen to be able to talk back and not get threatened. I don't like her but Im sure that it was her that's kept them alive this long, especially with three kids and a spoiled brat that was obviously sucking her dad off. Im surprised she hasn't shot anyone yet.
"The painting... ", he gave it a once over, not much mind payed to it before he spoke again. " Wanna burn it? "
Burn it?
" I hated art...made me think to much.", he sighed out.
He was such a guy. There was little to say on him, even if he had saved me from starvation he was a little bitch. He would never cross a certain point with Annabella or his younger sister. He didn't know what it was of to take a stand with out being scolded and spitting back.
He needed some liberating.
"Sure. ", I shrugged it over. Art was once in my life, now it was out.
I was the one to take it down and he was the one to burn it in a trashcan.
