Forsaken Dreams

I tried so hard not running back in there. It took everything in me. Mainly because I finally clued in to what he was doing and what he wanted to do just a few minutes ago. I could have prevented this, but then again I could have prevented the whole thing. It was because of me that he's infected in the first place.

I sat down surrounded by canned food, chips, and soda. I put my hands on my ears to block out the screaming because I couldn't listen to it anymore.

I start shaking violently. The image is too much to bear.

Why would he do this?

I knew why. To live. But if I was in his position, I don't know if I would be doing the same thing. Why should I keep living for this world? I'm not happy anyway. Now that I think about it, it's been awhile since I've been happy.

Happy...

seems foreign to me.

I swallow hard, and I move my shaky hands away from my ears as I slowly get on my feet. My feet, heavy as concrete as I make my way back to him.

While I near, I hear whimpering. I move a little closer so I can see him without actually going in the room. Not yet anyway. I see his face, strained with pain and as pale as paper. His features scrunched and filled with sorrow. His forehead glistening with sweat and cheeks with tears.

I looked down a little further, right to where the infection commenced. I gulped because I was right. His forearm was gone.