Word Count: 645
As it dragged itself closer, I pressed myself up against a shelving unit, looking desperately at my bag where I’d left it behind the counter. My silencer was in my bag, and for some reason kicking its head just didn’t occur to me. I was too busy panicking to think that clearly.
It took me a good moment or two to realize exactly what I was trying to become a part of. I turned and ripped a shelf out of the unit, putting all my weight behind it as I swung it around, straight down into the zombie. My first hit landed on its neck, sending clotted blood flying. Some of it landed on my face, missing my mouth by millimeters. Whether it got its teeth in me or not, if I got any of that shit in my mouth or eyes, I was definitely fucked.
Clamping my lips shut, I smashed the shelf down on the fucker’s head again. This time, I aimed right and split its head open. Breaths were short and heavy and anxious and didn’t fill my lungs properly, not until I’d searched the rest of the store and found it empty.
Fuck. That’d been too close.
And that was just one on its own. What sort of fucked up mess was I that I couldn’t even deal with one on my own? Once I’d found my knife, I sat down next to my bag, scowling at the floor and the blood splatters. I pulled a lump of plaster from under my butt, turning my glare on that for a moment.
Making it to the top on my own suddenly seemed like a much more daunting task.
I didn’t want to rely on other people. It was bad enough I’d ever relied on drugs, but at least they didn’t mock me behind my back for what was happening to me. They didn’t shout or grumble or snap or shove me away. They took me in and let me enjoy my life through an amber looking glass. Now that was gone, and I didn’t want to be so dependant, but god I would’ve done anything for a hit right then.
In fact, in that moment, I decided I never wanted to depend on anything other than myself ever again. People were shit, drugs were shit, and so was everything else. I wanted to be one of the things left over that wasn’t shit.
My shoulder twinged, reminding me I’d hurt it. My first thought was to do what I’d done to my arm and cut it out rather than give it a chance to spread. Only I couldn’t see what I was doing and I had no painkillers. I didn’t want to admit defeat or that I needed someone to help me.
With what I hoped was a bottle of disinfectant, I peeled back my shirt and doused my shoulder with it.
I didn’t remember falling asleep there. The last thing I remembered was realizing that, sat there on my own, I was doing exactly what Rayn would’ve done. He was always so flighty. If something upset him enough, that’d be the last you saw of him for a week.
He always went back, though.
I wasn’t so sure if I would go back.
For someone that’d run away, I hadn’t gone very far, though. When I left the drug store with my bag filled up with as many sheets of pills I could find, it seemed like all I could see was that hospital looming over the horizon. I didn’t really want to go much further into the town but where the fuck else was I supposed to be going?
I sat in the car, hands on the wheel. I was all set to just take off and never look back.
So what the hell was I doing, just sitting there?