In The End | 𝙋𝙖𝙪𝙡 𝙍𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙖

3 • Thank You

Lucy's P.O.V

Wake up.

Come on, Lucy.

Oh for Christ's sake, You're not dead!

I shot up, sweat beads dripping from my forehead as I frantically looked around, wondering where I was.

My hands made its way to my body, I let out a sigh of relief once I still felt fabric on my body. I let out a sigh as I felt my face ache, I reached up to my eye. I let out a hiss by the stinging sensation that occurred around my eye, as the memories flooded my mind.

Damn, I was hoping it was some kind of dream. I shrugged, at least I ain't dead.

Not yet..

My conscious hissed while I rolled my eyes.

I looked at my surroundings, trying to figure out where I was. I was in what seemed a small trailer, the lighting of the room was dim but I wasn't complaining, it gave me enough light to remember how it electricity even worked again.

Aside the lighting being dim, it was enough to give me a clear look of the room. The flooring of the room was a dusty-brown, being the flooring matching the walls, it made the room seem a bit darker than it already was. I was on top of twin bed mattress in one corner of the room, covered with wrinkled sheets, well-folded blankets, & a single pillow. In the middle of the room was a small table with two folding chairs, in the center of the table was an old vase with a dead flower, I admired that there was an effort in trying to give the room some touch.

It was a claim mark.

Opposite wall of the bed, there was a large mirror with a large crack running across it. now.

I starred at the mirror with shock. All thoughts were pushed aside as I took a good look in the mirror.

All the muck and dirt that covered my face made me cringe at how much of a mess I looked like, I could only imagine how much I reeked of death and dirt. I got up and got closer to the mirror, sitting on my knees while I observed myself in the mirror.

I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection, the dirt and muck is a front, but behind it all was the true person I was; my green-hazel eyes - with a black eye forming- no longer gleamed like my past self before the apocalypse began, my body form was fit due to all the constant movement I've done over the years yet I was thin to the lack of food my body has missed. The scar on my right, cheek-bone was always eye catching when I get a glimpse of myself yet it sent chills down my spine at the awful memory to how I got it. My straight, black hair use to be longer before it was shoulder length but I kept it short ever since a friend I met along the road, cut it for me.

God, how I miss him.

Right now would've been the perfect time for him to be here...

There was a man that I met once during my time alone after I lost my dad. He was on a run for his camp and I was sleeping in one of the buildings he was scavenging. My life almost ended because of that bastard, had me at gunpoint because he thought I was what he called " biting bitches."

The memory slowly played in my head, it's one I'll never forget...
-
"What the hell, man?!" I shouted, slowly bringing down my hands that covered my face while he placed his gun back into his holster.

"Well shit, kid, don't scold me 'cause you look like one of 'em blood suckers." He retorted.

"...Fuck happen to your hand?" He starred at me with dismay, putting his only hand on his hip while opening and closing his mouth.