It's late and I'm in that state where I could try to sleep, but if I did I wouldn't fall asleep for another hour. And since classes are canceled again for tomorrow, I'm letting my creative juices flow. So here's a little thing featuring Lauralie who may or may not be a maybe-minor-maybe-major char in some story or other I may or may not have <.< >.>
Fuck. That's all that can describe this situation. Fuck.
"Mark, baby, don't make me have to do this!," I shout, trying to get his heart pumping with my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks. This can't be happening, it can't be....it... I don't want to be alone with all the shit going on! How can things have changed so quickly? Only some weeks ago we were riding across the country on his motorcycle. How could things have gone to hell so quickly?
I try some minutes more before I sit back onto the cave floor, pushing my hands through my hair. I don't want to do it. He's supposed to live. He promised. I push my tongue against one of my snake bite piercings as I think, but there's nothing to think about. I don't know how long it'll take, and all i can go off of for this are the movies I used to watch. But if those are anything to go off of... Oh God, Mark... He's a big stereotypical-looking biker, again in looks only, so how could this have happened? he's big and scary looking to most...this... Oh God...
I shake my head unwillingly but take up the pistol I had set near him. "Babe, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...," I whisper, feeling my heart split into an infinite amount of pieces as I pull the trigger, aimed for his head. Slowly I open my eyes, not having realized I closed them, but quickly turn away, feeling sick. I want to sit here and sob, nothing else. But I know I can't. I know it. I have to go, like we planned. I have to go and find people. Find a group. Find...find something. See if those Safe Zones are worth anything.
Somehow I find myself outside the cave and walking. Walking to the river we've been using as a water source. I kneel down, feeling my already cut up legs scrape against the stone. I need pants, not a mini skirt. Need to find some. Cup some of the flowing water in my hands and drink. Water is life, right? But I feel so empty it seems to not matter...
Alone. I don't plan things, but I never in a million years dreamed this would happen... Why did this have to happen? Why did... It's all my fault. I know it is. I..thought we could grab a bit more before leaving... I thought... We couldn't... We couldn't... I thought...
I was stupid and now Mark is dead. I want to just lay here and not care who or what happens on me. I jsut want to give up. I can't, though. We had a plan. We promised each other that, if the other were to die, the living one would go on with the plan. The world has enough dead people in it.
The sound of something banging on metal draws my attention upwards and over the small river. I think to see a young man, maybe about my age, banging on something in the ground, shouting something I can't quite make out. Dude's gonna get himself killed with all that shouting.
Find people. That was what Mark and I were going to do. There's a person..and I found him... I'll do what I can only 'cause it was the plan, and, now, I have nothing other than a plan. Plans are good, even if i haven't had 'em before.