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We Were Born to Die

Chapter Text

a·poc·a·lypse noun

1. the complete final destruction of the world. 2. an event involving destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale.

You stared at the definition you knew personally on too many levels as your stationary grip on the dictionary tightened, turning your knuckles a few shades paler than your normally (s/c) skin. Reading the sentences over and over again you realized the explanation of the word was vastly understated. Adjectives like "destruction" or "damage" made sense, the world was pretty fucked up from all the disease that swept over it, but those words just didn't describe the real thing. It was so much worse than the ink explained on the dirtied page, it was so much worse.

The day the apocalypse swallowed the world had been one of the worst days of your life and everyone else's by far.

Everything had gone to hell.

You blinked away the past and tossed the dictionary away from you with a controlled temper. The book slid across the floor finding its place under an old desk that kept the door shut to your hideout for the night. Silence weighed you down more and more every day and you couldn't even find solace in reading any more. The only things you had left were your bag from the beginning, the worn clothes on your back and extras put away for when you really needed them, and finally your mother's wedding ring that hung around your neck on a silver chain.

With a hollow sigh you felt your stomach complain for more food, but you barely had any left. Savoring what little you got everyday was your only choice and to make do with the supplies you had. However, your food wasn't the only thing that was scarce. You were low on ammo and your knife was looking a bit dull from all the stabbings it'd gone through day after day. You were out of water completely.

Leaning your head back against the wall you laid against you decided to call it a day. Collapsing onto the bed you sat on you ignored the feeling of grime coating your skin and redid your greasy, tangled hair back into it's usual, knotted bun. With a deep breath you closed your eyes to the little gleam of moonlight that spilled through the cracked window and relaxed. Your exhaustion finally caught up with you from all the ground you had covered and you drifted into a fatigued sleep.

You prayed you would wake up.


(Time skip)

Opening your heavy eyelids only for your eyes to ache as the sunlight shined directly into them, you frowned. Holding in a weak groan you turned onto your back and sighed, rubbing the sleep from your face. Blinking your eyes wide open you took a breath and sat up, cracking your back with a satisfied huff. Scratching your jaw lazily you shifted, slipping your feet from the dirtied mattress lazily. Getting up you're shaggy form stretched and you bent down, your right foot lifting back slightly as you scooped up your pack and slung it over one shoulder.

Grabbing your gun from under the smudged pillow you'd slept on you checked your low ammo once more and but at your lip, sliding the barrel into the waist of your tattered jeans. Picking up your dulled blade you gripped it tightly and looked around the room you'd occupied once more. There was nothing left except for a few shredded books, disgusting cloths or ripped clothes, and furniture.

You slid the aging desk from up against the door back as quietly as possible and peeked out into the hallway of the deserted home timidly. Listening silently, all you picked up were the sounds of nature and a few groans from the walking corpses, most likely outside of the building. One could never be too sure, though. Slipping out from the room you made one last round around the house managed to find an old bag of chips and a few granola bars. It amazed you what someone missed in a tired daze. Having come into the house just before the sun went down you had been immensely tired, and only glanced around before holing yourself up in a formidable room.

Peering through the dust covered windows after packing your few snacks up, you spotted a few dead ones roaming and frowned as one waited on the porch. Some had noticed you the night before and stayed around the house trying to get back the meal they'd lost.

Gripping your blade you walked to the front door and counted silently in your head. Wrenching the door open you came face to face with eroding death and slammed your knife into it's head with a small grunt. Pulling the blooded weapon free of the rotted flesh you dragged the body inside and shut the door soundlessly. Too tired and low on ammo, along with a soon-to-break knife you only had a few choices. Tough it out here, make it or break it out there, or hide yourself. The latter was your best shot, you were already disgusting anyway.

Snatching a mildly clean sheet from another guest room upstairs you ripped the corpse open and gagged, scooping it's intestines onto the white cloth. Making sure to drench the sheet in whatever blood and gore you could you finally adorned the heavy cloak of invisibility (at least for the dead's standards) and made your way outside. A few of the monsters took notice of you and approached, but slid by when they caught no whiff or sign of human.

It was hot today, you realized, as you walked the empty roads with only a few cans of food as a reward of searching through a whole damn neighborhood for the most part of your morning. With half lidded eyes and the odor of disgust itself you decided to take a load off. Dropping into a house a little bit out of the town you'd visited, you searched the premises and found only one walking corpse.

Overall the day had been another mindless repeat and your awareness of that fact was still as numb as ever.