Half Souled

Straight From the Bucket

Jamison found the well and stumbled towards it. He waited for the other people to finish, then got some water that filled about half the bucket, then just fucking downed it. It was probably dirty, but he didn't care. At the moment it tasted like heaven.
"..you're not gonna.. clean the water or anything?" a teenager said behind him.
"..a bit late to do that now, don't you think?" He said, wiping his chin.
"..I guess.. do you.." the teenager gestured to their neck as they spoke, "..do you know about the.. thing? And.. and the eyes..?"
"What do you mean?"
"..look in-look in a mirror."
"..sure.."
Jamison walked off, now a bit more self conscious. He wandered into an antique shop, and glanced in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall.
The first thing he noticed was the gaping scar around his entire neck. His blood went cold, and he grazed his fingers over it. It felt like a hammer had hit his neck where he touched it, and the pain travelled down his spine. He felt himself flinch.
Then, he noticed his eyes. Instead of the grey they usually were, there were no irises.. or pupils.. his eyes were void of any life.
It scared him. He felt like he was alive.. but he still felt that fuzzy and vague dream state.
Was he..?
No, he wasn't going to think of that.
Like he'd guessed, his fiery orange hair was tangled, and matted. His dirty lab coat hung over his thin figure like a curtain. He needed to shave.
God, there were so many things he could nitpick about himself.
Jamison tugged himself out of his fearful state, and dragged himself to a food store.
In the corner of his eyes, he could've sworn he'd seen two lasers..?
He brushed it off and assumed it was the checkout scanner.