doomedxyouth:

There’s a gun in his hand that
he’s not entirely sure he can
use; he hated them, was scared
of them, once.

     But he can’t afford to be that
     way now. Not if he wants to
     stay a l i v e.

     (He’s still not entirely sure
     that he does.)

He trips over the hand, the
zombie, the child, and recoils.

                  “Shit. Fuck. It’s a—”

It’s a kid. And that terrifies
him.

❛she’s not… . .  she’s so
weak, you know, we could
just        leave her, yeah?❜

                     call her a sissy, but she’s not too
                     keen on shooting a third grader in
                     the face. the hand that holds her
                    gun, no longer shakes as it would
                    such a short time ago, but is firm.
                    unyielding. ready to shoot if a threat
                    arises, which, she doesn’t see from
                    the writhing body below them. 

                            ❛          … she’s so weak…
                            she’s not going to hurt us, so
                            let’s… not hurt her.❜