Much Further

Lost

     I stand watching the damage I have done, from afar. The wind whips through my hair, causing it to wrap around my face. I turn away from the burning house, this is closure I tell myself. But deep down I feel like I've just destroyed the last of who I was before. How much further will I have to loose myself? Much further.

   That was the last of what I had to remember my life, before hell took over this world. I had lost my family to soon. I'm all alone, completely. I couldn't handle it anymore, it was time to let go. I had to loose everything that reminded me of everybody that had once loved and cared for me. Even myself. It was time to change. No more crying myself to sleep at night, no more being terrified of every little movement. It was time to survive like I ment it.

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   I came by an abandoned house in the middle of the woods, although all houses these days were abandoned. I needed to find a place to scavenge for some form of weapon and food. Maybe new clothes, place to sleep and think.

   I went up to it cautiously, I listened for movement in the woods, movement in the house. I walked around the whole house first to look in every window. I made sure of every form of exit just in case I needed it. It looks safe enough so I go up on the front porch stomping making as much noise as possible to double check that nothing was lurking inside. Nothing made a move so I slowly opened the door to enter. It looked as if someone had been staying here recently, but hadn't come back yet. Probably got killed. I flinch at the thought, was I really becoming that negative of a person?

   I take a look around the rest of the house, it's nasty in the kitchen, top rooms and the bathrooom. But at least the living rooms nice, I decide that I'll stay here tonight but I needed to go out and find food because the kitchen didn't seem promising.

   I step outside realizing how refreshing the outside air really is. Going out to the little shed behind the house, I open the sliding door with trouble. Suddenly something reaches out! Scaring the death out of me, I stumble back wards landing on my ass. My left hand landing hard on an upturned nail. I holler in pain, pulling my wounded hand to my chest with the nail still embedded deeply. I'm pushing myself with my legs away from the determined flesh eater. I get to my feet just in time for the thing to squeeze through the gap I'd opened, leaving pieces of it's rotting flesh stuck to the metal. It fell to the ground at my feet, I turn away quickly to get some space between it and me. As I do so I yank the rusted nail from my hand, I make it to an old truck and turn back to my chaser. I drop the nail, seeing an old shovel in the back of the trucks bed. I jump over the side of the truck on drop myself into the bed. I catch myself with my wounded hand and wince in pain. I hear the ram into the truck from the flesh eater, and without thinking my hands are wrapped around the shovel and I'm up on my feet and turning towards the bastard with full force. I slam the shovel sideways into it's skull, it falls to the ground with a thump. I jump out and take a couple more whacks at him to make sure.

   Then the throbbing pain in my hand returns, I've got to get this clean. I began to walk cautiously with the shovel the way I had been heading. I will come back but I needed to look for supplies, and in my gut I felt I'd be in luck.

   After about half an hour of traveling I came up to an old little school house, it seemed to be a day care at one point. I see a little bus near the entrance of the gates. I walk up to it, the doors are open with blood smeared down them. I climb on quietly, look around seeing that it's all clear. I look up to the  spot I'd always seen a first aid kit at when riding the bus to school. Suddenly memories flash back into my mind, I sink to the floor trying not to let the tears fall. My hearts beating faster with ache to have things back the way they were. I shake the thoughts from my head, reach up with the shovel and knock the first aid kit down. It's untouched to my shock, but I'm relieved.

   I began to rip the alcohol wipes open, to clean the already irritated wound. It pinches with pain as the alcohol fights to kill the germs. Once I feel like I've pissed the wound off enough I wrap it good and tight with gauze just like my dad had thought me back on a camping trip. My heart sinks, but I push myself up and head towards the school, shovel in hand and first aid kit in the other.

   Will I ever be able to escape my memories?