The tall, skinny man and young boy with a sheriff's hat, stood in the prison yard staring right back at me; bloody and wounded, basket full of formula in hand, the obvious look of exhaustion washed over me. The dead slowly turns their head and stare...
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Warning: Another Peter and Reece encounter. Don't wanna read it, skip it over! Remember, it's just a story, it's nothing serious. Well, I mean, of course domestic abuse is important, but what I'm saying is for this sitatuation, it's only a story, it's nothing serious to report about. Thank you!:)
The Lost Dixon
Ch. 22: Pain of a Broken Soul
Reece's Point of View: I let out a gasp, taking in a deep breath. Sometimes, waking up to gasping for air always scared me. I always wondered if I actually died for a few moments but then somehow, in some way, I was brought back.
Sleeping so much lately was something I must've needed. I mean, I always thought that I got a decent amount of sleep, but waking up now, I just feel really awake, energized, refreshed. I guess from working so much lately, really since the world ended, the new life must mean taking an entire day or two to catch up on sleep. I don't know, it's just a weird thing.
And anyways, because I feel so refreshed and energized, I wanted to get up and walk around. Of course, waking back to my cell to check on the others isn't exactly something I can do, being that I'm in quarantine, roaming the tombs wouldn't be so bad. The halls are dark and creepy, but I knew they were free of walkers. I could hear some sick people coughing here and there, and each cell that I passed, I'd peak inside, seeing if anyone was inside. If they were, I'd stand and wait to see if their chest was rising up and down. So far, so good. Most people were either facing the door of their cell or their backs did, so, in some cells, I couldn't tell their faces. I didn't exactly care much about who it was, just wanted to make sure they were still alive.
After doing a round on everybody around solitaire, I finally made my way back to my cell. I have to say, walking around and thinking I was getting better on my own really was a joke. It was like having surge- you know, suddenly having energy and seeming completely fine, only to suddenly get way worse than before and possibly dying. I hope that isn't my case, cause then I might've screwed myself over.
I push my cell door open and go for my bed.
"Reece." I hear a rough voice. I stopped and turned back behind me. It's Peter. I haven't seen him ever since he basically beat the living hell out of me. I don't know if it was because I didn't have the energy to run away from him or what, but I knew that I was exhausted from being so afraid of him. Each time I saw his face, the hatred I have for him just grew stronger and stronger. I could be delusional and way over my head, but I'm gonna try my best to show no fear this time. Like right now. I don't feel fear.
"W-Where've you been?" He asks.
"Resting. Same as you." I say. Why else would he look the way he does or even down here. He huffs out a smile.
"Sick, too, huh?" He asks. I nodded. He leans himself against the wall, smiling.
"I-I-I saw you passin by my cell." He says. "What are you doing? Patrolling? Looking for me?" He asks. I frown at his question.
