WARNING: IF SUICIDAL OR ANOREXIC THEMES ARE TRIGGERING TO YOU, YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ THIS
This is darker than the normal story. You have been warned.
So you guys told me that you would be okay with me just writing a one shot for the bonus, so here we go!!
If you're wondering where the 75k one went, I got rid of it because it was trash. Forgive me, but then again don't, 'cause I really hated that shit.
Now the happier news:
(ONE HUNDRED FUCKING THOUSAND WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK)
(GUYS, GUYS, THATS A TENTH OF A MILLION DO YOU UNDERSTAND?????)
(WHATTTT????)
SOTC #1: drugs by EDEN
• Things I would rather be thoughts in the back of my head but I'm addicted to hurting •
SOTC #2: Cancer by Twenty Øne Piløts (I know it's a cover, I just prefer this version. sorry)
• But counting down the days to go, it just ain't living •
•••
The weather was less a storm and more a drizzle, the kind of rain that brings out the gray in things. A plastic bag tripped across the road and flattened against the curb, grass sticking like chewed gum against skin. The stretch of road might have looked dismal, but heavy cloud of steam made everything just a bit more diluted.
A drop of humid sweat trickled down the nape of Carl's neck, clinging to his back. He shook his hair from his face, eyes darting around as if he was scared. He swore to himself that he wasn't.
He counted the three houses down the right side he'd already raided for supplies. Number four definitely reflected this cloudy sky, cracked gray paint and rust trailing up the sides. Carl hugged his gun to his chest and whipped the door open.
But not a single walker awaited him. He looked around, relieved, at the plastic flower arrangements and hardwood floors, a thick tree keeling over in the back window. Carl, an ominous feeling in his gut, quietly shut the door behind him.
He found the kitchen, an open arrangement with an aloe plant on the windowsill and white tiled floors. Ripping open the cabinets, he shoved as many cans as possible into his bag.
Then he heard it.
A quiet, barely audible sigh and shifting from the other room. Carl's nerves set on edge, he cocked his gun and slowly stalked towards the doorway.
Painstakingly silent, he peeked over the vintage couch to a form splayed out on the carpet, a blanket draped over, leaving only an outline. Carl began to breathe again. Just a walker. He could handle this, he told himself.
He kicked the end of the blanket over with the toe of his boot, and the form began to stir, mumbling incoherently. Suddenly, the blanket was flung over, revealing the flushed, sweaty face of a girl.
The first thing Carl noticed was her hair, the color of sand. It clumped in greasy, dirt-caked swatches about her head. Her eyes: deep brown and pleading. Carl took a step back.
"P—Please," she sniffled, sobs rising to her bloody lips, a desperate, jagged breath racking her words. Where Carl expected her to beg for food, her teeth grit together in a tight line. "Jus' k—kill m—m—me."
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BITE ME ➼ C. G. 〖 #wattys2016 〗
FanfictionKeira is a survivor. She doesn't fall for tricks, she turns her back to the past and walks on. She carries secrets as her burdens. Guilt and sadness curdle inside her, but she's learned how to mask it. Cares and carelessness cause her to make mi...
