courtjester
My childhood was weird, my mother being an alcoholic and my father was never there. So, I raised myself and seven other siblings. I was raised to be a maternal figure, but I never had much time to grow up myself. My life consisted of caring for others, so my childhood was non-existent. I didn't care much until I got older. It was hard for me to date because I hadn't had to find myself and my personality as a child. I was constantly told that I was going to become a spinster because I could never get any dates. I was fine with being alone, solitude to me was great. I was able to think clearly and I wasn't being suffocated by someone else. Because of how I was raised, I wasn't really capable of loving, nor did I ever expect it to happen to me.
But that all changed when I met him.. With his soft brown curls and hazel eyes.
My childhood was weird, my mother being an alcoholic and my father was never there. So, I raised myself and seven other siblings. I was raised to be a maternal figure, but I never had much time to grow up myself. My life consisted of caring for others, so my childhood was non-existent. I didn't care much until I got older. It was hard for me to date because I hadn't had to find myself and my personality as a child. I was constantly told that I was going to become a spinster because I could never get any dates. FUCK YOU ANITA.
The dead were piling up on the sides of the highway, the infection spreading through all the bodies. We had no time to bury them, we had to reach a place with no infection, no possible chance of turning. The bodies were rotted and falling apart, disease ridden and mottled with bruises and blood. Their limbs were turning green and the blood was dark. Their bodies needed to buried but no one had any time to worry about it. So, the bodies were just strewn there, being swarmed by maggots and vultures, picking off skin and bones, eating them, disintegrating them. The highway we traveled on was so disease ridden, we had to wear surgical masks, for the least bit of protection. Our guns were strapped to our backs and we had other miscellaneous weapons on our belts and in our packs, we were as well prepared as we could be, even though no one saw the outbreak coming.
My feet hit the ground running, I slammed them against the pavement as fast as I could, trying to get away. I didn't know how far I had to run, or how long, all I knew is that I had to be gone. They were following close behind, and they would follow until their minds outran their lungs and legs and they had to collapse from fatigue. I could keep running for quite a bit, and I knew how to hide. The special DNA in my body made me more agile and a bit more flexible. It was very helpful for someone that's constantly on the run. I was wanted for my dna and my mind, to be forced into being a lab rat until my body wilted and retired. But that wasn't the life I wanted, I wanted to be free. Away from the needles, the sharp white coats, the cold metal and cold fingers, away from everything that had to do with that dreadful place.
writing since 2012 · 7 entries · 5 days shown up
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raisedwrongbodieschildhoodbloodrunningrunbitconstantlystretcherbonesfeethitgroundagainstpavement