Hollow Graves (Lesbian Story)

Chapter Thirty- Two

Nope. I could not start thinking of Felicia as beautiful. That would only lead me to a new set of troubling thoughts. I had too much to worry about now. Besides my daughter, having Tris back in my life was more than enough to feed my needs.

I appreciated Felicia not stepping any closer in my personal space. It made me see that her words were truly sincere. I pointed to the door behind me. "I oh...should check on...you know..."

"Brennon and the girls," she finished for me.

Its not like I forgot their names; especially my daughter. I was still overwhelmed by her words.

I nodded. "Yeah," I just said.

Felicia smiled, nodding for me to go.

What was Tris thinking in leaving me here alone with Felicia? I would now be counting her absence by the minute.

~

Tris

"What do you want Donald?" Donnie, the man who shot me in the chest stumped around in the next room.

For the last hour, I pretended to be asleep after waking up in this room, restrained. It reminded me of the first time I woken after being nearly ripped apart by my parents. Christian somehow managed to get me down in the basement and chained me to the pipes on the wall, afraid I'd shift. At least I was handcuffed to a chair this time. The room had barely any furnishings. Only a table up against the wall with my belongings on top. Was it foolish to believe I could convince them I wasn't the woman they shot. That I had a twin sister named Tris and was searching for her and my little brother?

I mean. It could be believed. I'd almost believe it.

"Bro. I'm telling you...you won't believe me. Just go in there and see."

My enhanced hearing gave me clear eavesdropping access. Footsteps grew. I made out a few words mumbled before shutting my eyes.

First I heard a sucking of air as if he'd submerged from being under water too long. They walked a few steps closer.

"I know for a fact I put a hole through her chest." Donnie spoke in a startling whisper. "Did you check and see the bullet hole?"

"Trust me...all left, is a scar. But...it looks a few months old or something." Every word from Donald's mouth sounded as if astonished.

"Wake her," Donnie ordered.

I preferred not to be touched. Since I was already shocking them I figured I'd just continue. I opened my eyes. Donald turned to me in motion to waking me. Catching him off guard, he leaped back. "Fuck," he hissed out.

"Stop being so dramatic," Donnie said. He looked down at me, narrowing his eyes. "How are you still alive?" Donnie didn't seem to even flinch from my unexpected awake. Dude was straight to the point.

"Where is my brother and Christy?"

Donnie shook his head. "That's not how this works." He wasn't bluffing. "Now...how are you alive?"

I considered. "I...uh..." Think faster... "patched myself up." I kept a straight expression.

"She could have, Donnie. I told you. She was a Paramedic before the world came to shits."

I smiled. I was more like an EMT. A lower position from a Paramedic but I wouldn't correct him.

Donnie shook his head. "Their is no fucking way she could have survived that. I shot you with a shotgun. There was a hole the size of a golf ball through your chest."

Ha. Shows how much he knew. The backside had a much bigger hole than that.

"Plus...no way you could heal this fast." Donnie wasn't falling for any of my lies.

He made a good point. "I have really good coco butter and Nivea cream." Those two options always worked wonders.

"You think this is funny." He sneered. "Where is the knife you said you found in her chest? Why didn't you leave it in?"

Donald rushed to the table where my belongings rested. "I didn't know what to do."

"So..." Donnie turned to me with a furtive grin. There was a glint of mischievous intent in his eyes. "If I give you a few bandages and find some Nivea...you think you will heal nice and swiftly?"

Yep. I knew where this was leading.

"Before you make a--"

I snarled in a loud agonized pain, hunching over. Donnie plunged the knife I had back into my chest. I took a few struggling deep breaths, coughing out blood.

"Boss won't like this," Donald whispered.

Vision blackened around the edges of my eyes. It hurt to breathe as he left the knife inside my chest, keeping his grip firm.

"Boss will only know if you open your fucking mouth." He yanked the knife out, holding it up to Donald's neck. My blood dripped down from the knife onto his hand. "And you won't open your mouth, will you?"

Donald shook his head, frantically. "No. I'm not gonna say anything."

"Smart decision." He wiped my blood onto my pants legs. "Lets see how you'll heal from this."

I chuckled in between gasp. Partly because I was scared of what I might do and that I might like it. While I'm losing all this blood and have yet to eat, that pull; lust for more than just mundane humane food was growing.

"What are you smiling about?" Donnie crouched down next to me.

I looked him in the eyes. I knew the color was yolk by his widening of eyes. "You should just let my brother, Christy, and me go."

Donnie sneered, spitting in my face. "Not going to happen, bitch."

Seriously. I blinked a few times, my vision blurring. I could feel my heart rate dangerously slow. Every time I was at the edge of death, I had this impending doom that this would be the time I'd officially die and come back as a walker. Here I was again, feeling that same internal pressure as I fell unconscious unsure if I'd wake again, my normal self.