[29]: pain riddled boy

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Running.

Despite me being my size, I wasn't that fit. Running was my least favourite. Especially now. It was essential these days.

You run, or you die.

So you have to be good at running.

My lungs and ribs ached. Each intake of breath was sharp and cold. My throat felt constricted. I felt like I couldn't run any longer. My calves burned, my heels in pain.

Carl's been shot.

Carl's been shot.

Carl's been shot.

Carl's been shot.

Carl's been shot.

I repeat that though in my head as it seems to be taking me a lot further than I thought.

Carl's been shot.

The only sounds I could hear was my struggled breathes, and Rick's mournful cries and hisses.

Behind me, he was carrying his son. Blood already staining half of his shirt and hands.

Behind him is Shane, and the man who shot Carl.

The man was large and had a graying beard and baseball cap.

He seemed familiar.

But I couldn't think about that right now.

I had to keep focused.

Carl's been shot.

The man gave us instructions and directions, to take Carl to a farm. That was where we could get Carl help.

I ignore the hollow thuds against my sides. I keep going. And that surprises me.

"Hey, you move, shithead," Shane yelled at the man. His voice seemed distant, which alerted me as to how far away I had run. "Come on, get I said."

"How far? How far?!" Rick screeched.

"Another half mile, that way!" the man shouted back, breathless.

He said something else, but I didn't hear him. He wasn't shouting loud enough for me to hear him. The guys behind me had faltered whilst I stayed focused

Carl's been shot.

Amongst my heavy breathing, and the stamps of all our feet on the dry grass beneath us, I could hear Shane's voice.

"Go, Marley!" he yelled, taking a large gulp of breath before continuing. "Marley, Run! Keep going! Get there!"

Instead of helping me run faster, his voice pulled me out of focus, and I was slowing down. I was giving into the fatigue. I couldn't run anymore. But I had to.

I blocked out his voice and any other sound than the sound in my head. The repeating image of Carl's body on the ground.

His eyes were closed when I turned to look at him after his hand left mine. I hadn't heard him wince, or scream. It was like he was hit with sleep, not a bullet.

Carl's been shot.

Soon, the ground beneath me started to levitate. Using all of my energy to get up the small hill, I then saw a fence.

The fence seemed to run for miles around fields. Seeming to be directly in the centre, was a house. Not too far from that was a barn.The place looked to be untouched. Unfazed. I already felt envy for these people, and how they seemed to have come out of all this unscathed.

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]Where stories live. Discover now