Hands Will Heal, Hearts Will Not

The sun still comes up, the moon still glows.

The stars still appear, the grass still grows.

The clouds still gather, the wind still blows...

Days still passed like every other and the world worked the same.

But the dead still came.

I don't know how much longer I can keep running.

My legs shake, my feet burn, my head throbs, and my chest is tight. My lungs ache to catch their breath, unlike the things behind me.

But it isn't all of this that make me doubt how longer I could go. It is in my head.

Each step I take to get further away from the dead is another step down a path I don't want to go on. I could run, my body is strong enough, but my mind is giving in.

I have nothing, no reason to keep going, no reason to fight. The only reason I keep on is because I don't know how to not fight. I don't know how to give up, but I have also never lived like this before... Alone with the dead.

I came to a stop, my lungs shrinking and letting out a breath like I was slammed in the chest. The wind blew from behind me as I stood, looking around. My fiery hair flew around my face, some sticking to the sweat on my forehead and some getting caught on my lips that are cracked and broken.

I hold myself up like I didn't just run miles, but my face shows all the pain my mind is going through. The exhaustion is clear under my eyes and in my skin. That's how I always am.... easy to read when caught in my own book.

I look around at the trees that were bright from the sun shining down, twinkling in my eyes. Quickly, I pick the one that looks the best to climb. I run up to it and jump, wrapping my hands around the large trunk of the branch.

The noise of my shoes scraping against the bark is sharp as I walk up the tree, using the little body strength I have left to pull myself up. When my foot is secure on the branch, I balance my whole body to stand before I reach for the next branch above me.

This one isn't as high and I could easily rest my elbows on it while I swing my body up on. Each movement I make is smooth and my body knows how to move to stay on the tree.

I start to hear the groans again and don't let myself breathe just yet. My stomach is pressed against the bark lightly and my hands that are scraped from the climbing hold me up and completely still.

The wind blows from the side, causing my hair to whip over my face and the stench of decay travel to reach me.

I let out a breath slowly and quietly, keeping my body still. I don't have time to flip onto my back to sit, I just have to hold myself up perfectly still, only able to hope they can't smell me.

Hoping and fighting is all just instinct at this point... like a reflex that came naturally from doing it for so long. I don't know if I have any hope left in me or even any reason to. I don't even know the amount of fight left in me. It's all just running out.

I peer over the edge of the branch as the shuffling bodies reach the tree. I didn't make a sound or a movement as I watch them all pass me. I was too high up to be seen or smelled, so I was safe. For now.

When I see the last head pass below me, I wait for a while to move and not risk anything. But, eventually, my arms need to rest, as well as the rest of my body.

I carefully shift and flip over onto my back. The branch is pointed in a diagonal, so it allows me to sit up and put one of my feet on the branch across from it to relieve some of the pressure.

My loss for breath now catches up with me and I start taking louder, labored breaths through my parted lips. The air made them dry so I lick them and let my head fall backwards in exhaustion to rest against the tree.

The sun blinds me as I look up at it, but I don't look away. I just reach up to push the matted hair back away from my face and tuck it behind my ears. I have nothing left in me to do anything else.

I have nothing left.

I have no weapons, no food, no water, no family... It is all gone... lost.

Nothing. Nothing but the clothes on my back and the thoughts in my mind that go against every instinct I have to survive.