User:Knyle/Psycho Feed

Psycho Feed

I cleaned some of the blood from my ax, whistling tunelessly as I stood over my victim; a man who had come to live with my family only just that morning. We could have stayed sheltered together just fine, had he not struck my wife. I shan't make the mistake of trusting anyone again.

I frowned, thoughtfully, until my son appeared in front of me. He tugged against my jacket, asking if I could tuck him in.

I smiled, and walked him back to his bedroom. His mother has been so sick, lately, I have to take care of him. She was getting better, though. She had started moving again!

The widower fireman sat in his bloodied clothes on the edge of the torn mattress, cradling a limp, unmoving form in his arms, looking lovingly between it, and the undead woman chained to the wall across from him.