𝓬𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 | 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝔁𝓸𝓷

eight

...i was at bootcamp. my bad

A loud bang wakes Macon up with a jolt, but it isn't enough to make her do more than that, the prisoner instead groaning and turning her head away from the sound. However, when the color of her eyelids goes from an endless black to a deep red she opens her eyes, only to shut them from how bright it is. She rubs her eyes roughly, trying to get used to the light as quickly as possible. However, as quick as the light came it disappeared, another loud bang echoing before a deafening silence follows. "Knew it," she weakly mumbles, finding herself alone as exhaustion takes over once more.

When Macon wakes up again she isn't sure how much time had passed, but she knew no one would come looking for. With this in mind, she forces herself to sit up, her body aching with each movement. Once she's sitting with her back against the wall, she lets an airy painful groan, tears gradually forming in her eyes. She tries to swallow, only to feel herself gagging. Her throat and tongue are as dry as sand paper, making swallowing an impossible task. Taking in a heavy breath, she lets out another sound of pain, as breathing in hurt her throat even more.

"Fuck," she cries out, allowing a few tears to fall from her eyes. Despite the pain, she grabs mindlessly for her axe, knowing she would die if she didn't get up.

Once she's able to find her weapon, she uses it as a crutch, pulling herself up to her feet with it. It takes a bit of time, her arms shaking from her weight. But soon, she's standing and leaning against the wall once more. Despite the pain in her throat and the tears cascading from her eyes at a rapid rate, Macon continues forward, taking in deep and heavy breathes to help herself feel less dizzy.

Feeling up against the wall, she uses it to help her walk to the door. She shivers violently when her finger tips feel the cool metal of the knob. She caress the door gently, feeling for the handle. When her hand wraps around it, an airy painful laugh escapes her, feeling the tiniest bit closer to freedom. She pushes and pulls, only to find something holding the door shut on the outside. She pushes and pushes and pushes to no avail. Still, she keeps trying, feeling so trapped in such a little room. Hell, there's barely any air to breathe. As a matter of fact, there's no air to breathe, which Macon discovers when it feels like their is a hand wrapped around her throat. It only makes her fight more. Tears fall from her eyes at a rapid pace as mucus begins to dribble from her nostrils. She didn't care, though. All she cared about was getting out. She needed to get out.

Somehow, someway, the door opens with a breeze. Macon put so much force into it, however, that she finds herself on the concrete floor once more. She moans out in pain, her stomach taking the worst of the fall. But at least she can take in a deep breath of air, bringing air back into her lungs. And once she slow gains control of her breathing, she forces herself to her feet once more. She wipes the tears and mucus from her face, looking around at her hazy view. It takes a bit of time before her vision clears up, allowing her to see the hall she resides in. Leaning against her axe, she tries her hardest to remember how she got there in the first place. Her body swayed gently side to side as she tried her damnedest to remember how she got there. But she couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?

Her barely there train of thought is derailed completely when she feels something grab at her leg. Looking down, she discovered a weak walker grabbing at the leg of her jumper. It makes an airy chuckle leave her, reminding her of how kids would pull at their parents' sleeve whenever they wanted something. Pitiful little thing.

Bringing her axe up, she allows gravity to take over, bringing the axe down into the walker's head. Its groans and moans stop instantly, its head split right down the center. The walker's weak grasp on her loosens completely, its hand hitting the floor with a soft thud.

Wiping her face, Macon lets out a heavy breath, finding that bringing the axe up over her shoulder one of the hardest things she has ever done before. She goes to pull the axe out of the walker's head, only to discover it being partly lodged in a part of its brain. She pulls and pulls, but it won't get unstuck.

"Fuck," she groans. Macon tightens her grip around the handle and takes in a deep breath to prepare herself. With one mighty pull, the axe is dislodged from the walker's head, Macon letting out a sound of relief. However, she loses her footing when she trips over her own feet. She grabs at the air, falling to the floor with a sickening thud, her head bouncing off the concrete floor. She lets go of her axe to hold her head, feeling the blood gradually soak her hair. A loud moan passes her lips, the pain taking over her entire body. "Fuck. Fuck," she groans once more.

Despite all the pain she feels, she grabs her axe once more, using it as a crutch to help her get up. She groans lowly. Forcing herself to sit up. Taking in deep and heavy breaths, she wipes the tears from her face, trying her hardest to hold herself together. But when she looks down the hall to see how much farther she has to go, her body goes limb. She falls back to the floor, her eyes seeing double as she stares up at the ceiling.

"Well shit," she mumbles quietly, slowly finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. "Damn it." She throws her arm over her eyes, the sense of dread finally sinking in. Despite this, when a moan echoes down the hall, she feels adrenaline get pumped into her veins. Opening her eyes, she sees a walker limping towards her at the end of the hall. Tears form and fall from her eyes as fear sets in. She crawls away from the walker, her hands scrapping as they try to drag her from the danger behind her. But as she look ahead, she discovers someone else moving towards her at an even faster pace than the walker.

Macon's stomach drops, finding herself becoming more and more fucked by the second. As the person gets closer and closer to her, she simply allows her head to lay on the nasty floor, covers her face with her hands, and waits for her demise.