Death Wish

Chapter 21

I apologise for the multiplying author's notes, but I have to emphasize my feelings regarding this story.

I'm going to be insanely honest but keep this short so you can get on with reading the unbolded, more important words below.

Thank you.

And when I say thank you, I friggin mean it. In the beginning I was considering giving up on this completely, as this is a little embarrassing to write, but you guys showed up and told me to keep going. It's made me a more confident in my writing, it's made me want to do it more.

~ ~ ~

Making more plans for tomorrow turned into a good way to lull me to sleep. I'm barely hanging on as Mikey makes suggestions on how to best go about scavenging for the rarer items.

"All I'm saying about this supposed symbol for the most hated thing is probably going to be in the Living Universe. Cause . . . y'know. Life sucks." He says.

"Oh come on, you barely remember it." Ray bats his hand at him.

"I write stuff down."

Everyone further discusses the matter in the circle, but I say nothing. I sink lower into my comfortable position, desperately wanting to fall asleep unnoticed by the group. I'm wrapped up in one of Ray's many blankets with a half empty mug of chamomile tea. It's the basic setup to fall flat on your face and sleep for forty days and nights. Relaxing is a huge trap for me right now, I'm still so tired from everything, it's taking a toll on me. I have to sleep for more than two hours.

My dreams of having dreams delays when the corner of my eye catches Frank slinking away from group conversation. I don't move much as I watch him successfully sneak off to grab his stuff from the couch.

He rummages through the trash bag of supplies he was given earlier with clawed fingers. I focus on the hands for only a moment, finding the sight of long black nails new, but possibly and logically present from the past few filthy adventures. It's probably nothing to worry too much about. Frank moves along to pull out unstained clothes and a pillow. Ah, now I get it. He's evidently just as sleepy as me, he's just far more committed to the part of napping on the job.

He quickly switches out his grimy, bloodied shirt for the cleaner one. Between the exchange I notice a rough looking blotch on his back. The sizzled, peeling skin has been taken over by a growing black patch. Surrounding areas of the skin are dotted with other discolourations of pale white and gray spots. The tainted skin almost looks too tight on him as well; Frank can only stretch so far to get his things before he looks uncomfortable. He really is affected by this recent event.

Getting hit earlier did a lot more than startle the poor guy - he's damn near close to looking like a shaved rat. I can't get a better look at the possible seriousness before a Black Flag band t-shirt is yanked down to cover it.

I raise my head, eyes flicking up from the back of the shirt to my friend. "What was that?" I ask.

Frank glances back, "Huh?"

"I think that witch got you." I continue. Everyone turns when I say so. Frank shrugs us off, "Rose just got a lucky shot. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"It hurts?" I sit upright fretfully.

Frank snickers at me, showing his teeth briefly. They're almost jagged and yellow to me when I see them, making my worry dive another foot deeper to drown my calm. What the hell is going on with Frank, he's a mess all of the sudden. He's turning super gross from not patching himself up. He either doesn't see or mind that as he laughs at me. His smirk plays across his lips until he finally notices I'm not laughing with him. His smile shrinks away into nothing.