leave or kick me again.
He walks away.
I lay on the floor, counting as the pain inside me slowly begins to fade. It doesn’t take as long as it should, but not because I’m used to it. It’s that masochistic thing inside me. It has to be. If I weren’t someone who craved pain, I’d learn to keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I wouldn’t pick fights with Rick, or anyone else for that matter.
When the pain has finally faded and numbness has spread through me, I manage to drag my sorry ass up off the floor. My packaged meal ends up in my hands, somehow, but at first I’m not sure I still have an appetite. I take a couple cleansing breaths as I stumble out the back door, and my stomach lets out a growl, proving me wrong.
The light from the bonfire is visible the second I set foot on the beach, but I need a couple minutes to get my shit together before I head over. I pull out a cigarette, ignoring how shaky my hands are when I light it. The nicotine that fills my lungs is better than an old friend.
Things with Rick were never good, but the power that came with the apocalypse has made it worse. I think about fighting back from time to time, I’m almost bigger than him now, but something always stops me. Which is stupid. I could take him and I know it.
Just more proof that I’m masochistic.
By the time my cigarette is nothing but a nub, I’ve pushed Rick to the back of my mind. His bullying doesn’t stick with me the way it used to. It used to keep me up at night, give me nightmares. Make me afraid of my own shadow. Now, I can let it roll off my shoulders like a drop of water.
I toss my cigarette down and kick some sand over it before heading toward the fire, my almost forgotten meal tucked under my arm. My ribs ache and the tenderness in my stomach becomes more and more evident with each step I take, but it’s mild compared to other times. I have enough experience to know it will be little more than a memory by morning. With all the pain I’ve been through in my life, I’ve learned what will and won’t leave a scar behind.
“Roman!” Clay calls when I’m still a good ten feet away, flapping his arms like he’s afraid I might not notice them.
I wave him off as I scan the group. Maybe Jules wandered over… No such luck. Just the usual bunch—including Roz. Our eyes meet and I nod, but she doesn’t smile. She’s still pissed. Awesome. Exactly how I wanted to spend my night.
“What’s everyone up to?” Nursing my sore ribs but trying not to be obvious about it, I throw myself on the sand next to Roz. It’s better to pretend I don’t notice her mood and hope she gets over whatever crazy thoughts are going through her head.
“You just missed the new chick,” Clay says.
He’s a loudmouth who can never keep his trap shut, but he’s funny, so I put up with it. Getting him and Mac together—and a little drunk—is always a good way to kill some time.
“Oh Roman already met her. Didn’t you, Roman?” Roz glares at me over her glasses.
Real subtle.
I pretend not to notice her tone as I rip into my dinner, shrugging indifferently. My ribs ache from the movement, but it’s small and easy to ignore. I’ve been through worse.
“Hot, right?” Kyle says just as I take a bite of processed beef stew.
A chunk of meat slides down my throat only half chewed, and I start hacking. My eyes water, and I pat my chest, making my already-painful ribs throb, coughing like I’m on the verge of choking.
It’s partly an act, because Roz’s eyes are glued to me. But I’m also a little bit shocked by the fact that Kyle is actually addressing me.
We all went to the same school before the virus, but of course none of us were really friends. Kyle was quarterback of the football team and all the girls wanted him. He was a dick, of course. He’s loosened up a little since then—zombies eating your family will do that to a person—but for some reason he still doesn’t like me . I’m not sure what his
He walks away.
I lay on the floor, counting as the pain inside me slowly begins to fade. It doesn’t take as long as it should, but not because I’m used to it. It’s that masochistic thing inside me. It has to be. If I weren’t someone who craved pain, I’d learn to keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I wouldn’t pick fights with Rick, or anyone else for that matter.
When the pain has finally faded and numbness has spread through me, I manage to drag my sorry ass up off the floor. My packaged meal ends up in my hands, somehow, but at first I’m not sure I still have an appetite. I take a couple cleansing breaths as I stumble out the back door, and my stomach lets out a growl, proving me wrong.
The light from the bonfire is visible the second I set foot on the beach, but I need a couple minutes to get my shit together before I head over. I pull out a cigarette, ignoring how shaky my hands are when I light it. The nicotine that fills my lungs is better than an old friend.
Things with Rick were never good, but the power that came with the apocalypse has made it worse. I think about fighting back from time to time, I’m almost bigger than him now, but something always stops me. Which is stupid. I could take him and I know it.
Just more proof that I’m masochistic.
By the time my cigarette is nothing but a nub, I’ve pushed Rick to the back of my mind. His bullying doesn’t stick with me the way it used to. It used to keep me up at night, give me nightmares. Make me afraid of my own shadow. Now, I can let it roll off my shoulders like a drop of water.
I toss my cigarette down and kick some sand over it before heading toward the fire, my almost forgotten meal tucked under my arm. My ribs ache and the tenderness in my stomach becomes more and more evident with each step I take, but it’s mild compared to other times. I have enough experience to know it will be little more than a memory by morning. With all the pain I’ve been through in my life, I’ve learned what will and won’t leave a scar behind.
“Roman!” Clay calls when I’m still a good ten feet away, flapping his arms like he’s afraid I might not notice them.
I wave him off as I scan the group. Maybe Jules wandered over… No such luck. Just the usual bunch—including Roz. Our eyes meet and I nod, but she doesn’t smile. She’s still pissed. Awesome. Exactly how I wanted to spend my night.
“What’s everyone up to?” Nursing my sore ribs but trying not to be obvious about it, I throw myself on the sand next to Roz. It’s better to pretend I don’t notice her mood and hope she gets over whatever crazy thoughts are going through her head.
“You just missed the new chick,” Clay says.
He’s a loudmouth who can never keep his trap shut, but he’s funny, so I put up with it. Getting him and Mac together—and a little drunk—is always a good way to kill some time.
“Oh Roman already met her. Didn’t you, Roman?” Roz glares at me over her glasses.
Real subtle.
I pretend not to notice her tone as I rip into my dinner, shrugging indifferently. My ribs ache from the movement, but it’s small and easy to ignore. I’ve been through worse.
“Hot, right?” Kyle says just as I take a bite of processed beef stew.
A chunk of meat slides down my throat only half chewed, and I start hacking. My eyes water, and I pat my chest, making my already-painful ribs throb, coughing like I’m on the verge of choking.
It’s partly an act, because Roz’s eyes are glued to me. But I’m also a little bit shocked by the fact that Kyle is actually addressing me.
We all went to the same school before the virus, but of course none of us were really friends. Kyle was quarterback of the football team and all the girls wanted him. He was a dick, of course. He’s loosened up a little since then—zombies eating your family will do that to a person—but for some reason he still doesn’t like me . I’m not sure what his
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