Chapter 22

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Whelp I'm pretty bad at making aesthetics but with the help of multiple tumblr tutorials I made one. It kinda embodies the sort of character I was trying to create with Keira :)

SOTC: Radioactive by Imagine Dragons
I feel it in my bones

He swings for my chest. I try to push his arm away, but the burlap material of his jacket slips by beneath my fingers. I barely knock it off course, and the knife grazes my skin. I scream between my teeth.

He smiles as I put my hands on his shoulders, attempting to steady him so that I can kick him away. But instead he looks me up and down, shoves his boot into my shin and sends me tumbling to the ground. Colors haze my vision as I attempt to fight off painful aches from my shoulder.

When I find my balance again, he's halfway down the street.

I could kill him... Or I could run. I could live, maybe. What if I just went back into the house? The soothing of the shower had faded, leaving the walker pains to dance across my body.

Can't run away, runaway.

No. I had to do what's right. My feet were starting to ache, but I ran all the same. The seconds that I had wasted had set me behind at least a block. He was a whirlwind, faster than me.

But then I realized who he was going for. Douche face himself.

There was a bang! and the man dropped to the ground. I came closer, and it became visible that he was clutching his leg in pain.

Carl came off the sidewalk. He held his smoking gun aloft as he crouched next to him.

I wasn't close enough to hear their words, but I drew my machete just in case. Carl gestured with his gun and the man brought up his clasped hands, pleading.

Carl lowered his gun. "NO!" I yelped, and the man sneers, groping for Carl's leg.

I lunge, raking my machete over his neck.

He splutters, a spray of blood curling down from the wound. I got down on my knees and began to drag my knife across his neck. The blade had dulled, so it didn't pass as cleanly. He wriggled under my grip as I sawed at his flesh, cleaving a divide in his windpipe. But even before I finished, a last gurgle of blood passed out of his mouth and cascaded down to my hand.

It was warm. It was sticky.

It smelled like rhubarb. Tangy.

The anger dissipated, and my clamping headache released. Reality pooled around me. The bloody knife in my hands, the horrified look on Carl's face, the fading sound of Ron's sneakers slapping against the sidewalk, the smile sneaking across my lips.

Carl whispered before my thoughts could drown me too. "Why did you kill him, Kee?"

I didn't know the answer to that. The thoughts didn't come. The battle in my head had cease-fired, and only my red face and the tears blurring my eyes could tell Carl how much I wanted to run, like Ron did.

Instead, I pulled down the hem of my shirt, exposing the ugly spiderweb that weaved across my shoulder.




Silence.

He stepped backward. I wanted to stand up, but his face was creased with so much concern and accusations. "How...?" He choked, his icy eyes melting.

My mouth stayed in a firm line, tears falling over my lips. "It never faded," I said slowly, through jerky breaths.

Gunshots crackled off in the distance. I ignored them. I felt my knees on the asphalt, shrapnel buried into my hand. Aches danced over my body, black dots danced over my vision. I finally let go of my shirt collar.

"Oh, God, Kee!" Sobs racked Carl's voice as he ran, wrapping his arms around me, pushing his fingertips into my back. I didn't know what to do. I needed to run away. I would hurt him otherwise.

His hat fell onto the pavement after being dislodged from the embrace. I didn't realize he had put it back on. But before I could withdraw to pick it up for him, he squeezed me harder.

Maybe he believed that I wouldn't go if he kept me long enough.

"Carl," I mumbled into his shoulder. "I am so sorry." It sounded like I was apologizing for stealing a toy. But Carl understood.

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A/N: ...

Wow.

Huh.

Thoughts on this chapter?

QOTD: Are you excited for spring break (if you have a spring break)?
AOTD: well I will finally get some sleep so yea I guess

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Word Count:
778

Created 3-23-16

BITE ME  ➼  C. G. 〖 #wattys2016 〗Where stories live. Discover now