I made him suffer. I made him think he had a chance and slowly reminded him he would never get away with what he’d done. I’m not entirely sure where the homicidal rage had come from – last time I felt so angry, I was ten years old and hacking at the brake line on mom and dad’s old car.
He had cried as I broke his bones. Begged when I told him what I was going to do to him. Laughed when he thought he was free. Ran when he thought he could get away. Fled back towards the building when he saw how many walkers were there.
I waited in the doorway for him, watching his arm flopping around limply and flesh wounds gape as he limped back towards me, pleading with me again. I slammed my foot into his left knee, following him with my eyes as he crumpled. I broke his other knee just to prove a point.
“You’re disgusting,” I growled at him, my voice low, “worthless. Pathetic.”
He nodded, whimpering pitifully, “yes I am, please, I’m sorry,” he whined, “please just don’t do this to me. Please, please.”
His calf was sticking out from under him at a sickening angle. I caressed it with the tip of my knife, standing over him. “Don’t do what?”
“You know, Scott,” I leant in to whisper in his ear, “I’ve done some pretty terrible things. Killing all those people in the warehouse. Stealing your girlfriend away from you, if you can call it that. Murdering my own parents. And I’ve enjoyed it all.” I smiled, straightening a little just to see the look on his face. “But I’ve never hurt anyone quite like that. And now you’re just another name on the list of people who deserved it.”
His jaw had dropped, a little, but now he was opening his mouth to let out a scream. I cut the sound from his throat.
His broken body convulsed a few times, his mouth opening and closing before he stopped moving. I put my foot through his head, just to make sure he wouldn’t come back when the dead got their hands on him, and chucked his carcass out into the street. Between me turning around and reaching the fire exit of the drug store, one walker had already noticed Scott, and began shuffling towards it.
I didn’t go upstairs straight away. I was covered in blood and not all of it was Scott’s. My stupid fucking arm. Pulling back my sleeve revealed more than just one or two broken stitches. I hadn’t noticed it while I was fighting with Scott, but I was certainly noticing it now.
Sophia’s bag had all that first aid stuff in it. I looked around, seeing it lying on the floor. Sure enough, there was her needle and thread kit. I think I did an okay job. It only needed a few, really. I hoped she wouldn’t notice. I used the sink in the back room to clean myself off as much as I could, took a nice big hit of morphine and stocked up on what was left in the stores. It wasn’t like I would need that much, but someone else could get hurt and need some, right? There weren’t many needles, but that was okay, I’d just do my best to keep them clean and reuse them. That’d be fine.
I couldn’t help but wonder. Sophia had asked me to do it, but would she feel the same now it was done?
I had to wonder what Joe would think, as well. He seemed to warm to me when we were in the mall. We’d taken a long time there because fuck it, it was his birthday. He deserved a bit of time to have fun. There was a bowling alley there, and even though it was boarded up, stank of blood and spilt booze, there were enough pins lying around and plenty of bowling balls.
I’d cleaned up a few balls as much as I could, fired up a generator out the back and quietly put some music on. I let him pick. I knew it was a big risk, but there were no windows for the light to shine through and it was secure enough that we could stick around if the walkers did get any ideas. I think he managed to relax at least for a bit. He was almost like a little brother for a couple hours. I kind of hope he’ll still be like that after this.