SO I WILL NOT ASK YOU
WHY YOU WERE CREEPING
IN SOME SAD WAY, I ALREADY KNOW
Growing up, I read so many books that I no longer felt as if the world I lived in was real; nobody I had ever met felt as real as those I read about in my books. That was un...
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
The gunshot echoed in his ears.
"Stop!", the man sobbed out; begging, pleading for his life. "Please don't leave me, don't do this, please".
Micheal kicked him across the face, shaking the desperate man off of him. He stared down at Otis, watching, as walkers tore into him one by one. His blood curdling screams filled the air, his flesh ripping apart was covered up by the monsters snarls as they continued tearing into him. His screams were replaced by gurgles as the man choked on his own blood.
Micheal screamed.
"Micheal", a voice whispered, shaking him.
He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look up at the beautiful teen girl standing besides him; her face stained with tears. She nodded down at the stone in his hand; he looked around, he was the last one.
Micheal swallowed and approached the stone pile, his heart in his throat.
"Please don't do this!".
He hesitated, his hand hovering over the other stones, toying with the pebble in his hand. He should be allowed to do this, he shouldn't be allowed to place a stone at the dead man's grave. The man he killed. Micheal sucked in a breath of air, quickly dropping the pebble and retracting his hand. If there was a hell, he'd be going there for sure.
He slowly turned, his eyes glued to the ground as he moved to take his place besides Beth; freezing in place as she put her hand on his shoulder. He stared at it, then up at her; she smiled, softly. Micheal hesitantly looked back up at the group; noticing a couple of eyes staring at him a little longer than he appreciated. They know, everyone knows.
"Shane", Hershel ended his prayer and looked up at the retired police officer. "Will you speak for our Otis?".
"I...", he looked at Micheal and immediately looked away, "I'm not good at it. I'm sorry".
"You were the last ones with him", Patricia, his wife, sobbed out. "You shared his final moments. Please, I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning".
There was a long silence.
Micheal felt sick.
"We were about done, almost out of ammo, we were down to pistols by then. I was limping, it was bad, ankle all swollen up", Shane nodded. Micheal was holding his breath, trying hard not to bring any attention to himself. "'We've got to save the boy'. See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved us ahead. 'Run', he said. 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you and the kid'. And when we looked back...". Micheal's heart was racing, he wanted nothing more than to look up and scream it wasn't true. It terrified Micheal how good Shane was at lying, how easy it was for him. "If not for Otis, we'd have never made it out alive. That goes for Carl too. It was Otis, he saved us all. If any death ever had any meaning, it was his-- he did what was right".
