Living Yet Not Alive (pewdiecry)

Day 387

   I open my eyes to see I'm in a room. My leg feels like fire. I slowly remember what had happened. "Son of a bitch." I say quietly. I sit up to see I'm back in that little cabin. Great. "How do you feel?" I hear the Swedish man. I turn my head to see him sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. "Fine." I said quietly. Then it hit me. Like a slap in the face.
   I was unconscious. He had carried me back here. "Here drink this." he was now in front of me. He put a bottle of water in my hand. "How long was I out?" I ask while opening the water. Drinking some. "About a week." I choked on my water, causing me to cough. "You okay?" he asked. "Y-yeah. Just surprises me." I said shrugging. "What does?" he asked, sitting down on the floor across from me.
   "How people, even in this hell. Can help one another in time of need." I said slowly. He looked surprised. Frankly so was I. "I would've died if you weren't there. Course I could have not been attacked by your dog if you weren't. But, either way you saved my life." I said, taking another sip of water. "Uh... You're welcome..?" he said, sounding more like a question. I adjusted my mask slightly. I had completely forgotten about it. "Don't worry. I didn't... Uh.. Look at your face. Its your privacy." he seemed to need to assure me.
   For some reason I couldn't tell if he was lying or not. And I usually could read people's emotions very well. So why not his? Interesting. "Before all this, what was your profession?" I asked, trying to get a clue of why I can't read him like the others. "Oh I.. I was a game designer." he smiled. Hm. That doesn't make any sense. "What did you do?" he asked. Me? I would say I couldn't remember but that would be a lie. "I was a therapist." I said. Key word was.
   "Oh cool." he said, still smiling. I took this time to get more details on how he looked. Dirty blond hair. Accent. Swedish. He had blue eyes. Taller than me. Handy, since he was able to keep this house up since the beginning. "I never got your name." he said. "I don't remember it. So just call me Cry." I shrugged. "I'm Felix. Why did you pick Cry? Why that?" he asked. I shrugged, but I knew why. Because its ironic. I can't cry. The old group I was in nicknamed me this since I never showed emotions. They call people like me "deadmen walking" or something stupid like that. Of course I killed the whole group in their sleep.
   "Well Cry. I think you should stay with me until your leg heals up." he said. My leg. I had forgotten about that. The pain rushing back. Ah pain. The closeted thing I have to emotion. "Guess so." I said, taking another sip of water. Great. I'm practically being healed hostage by some Swedish guy whome I just met.