Bitten

Hope everyone has had a great week thus far. Earlier this week I got an idea for a short story. It was such a compelling idea I made a special trip to the Barnes and Noble cafe and wrote for about an hour. I'm not going to waster anymore of your time. Hopefully you enjoy it. If you do, say so. If you don't, that's fine. Skewer me if necessary.

Bitten

He took a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed the barrel of the gun under his chin. Sweat beaded across his forehead. Tears streamed down his cheeks. The heat from the barrel burned the bottom of his chin. It hurt. But he deserved the pain. Jillian lay dead next to him. He shot her. He had to. She'd been bitten. William didn't want her to end up like one of--

William tried to make himself pull the trigger. No matter the willpower he exerted he could not put a bullet in himself. Jillian told him he wouldn't. She said to let her do it. Why didn't he let her? William lay back in the driver's seat. He pulled the leaver to recline. He sobbed. His shoulder hurt. William could feel blood pulse from the bite. He opened his eyes and leaned forward to get a look out the windows. Those things - those dead things. What the hell are they? he thought. "God, I don't want to be like that." He muttered.

William lay in his seat. He felt cold. His shoulder was numbed of all pain. It felt good not to hurt. He wondered if he was dying. Breathing was hard. William found it strange to be standing so close to Death's door and be so hungry. William wondered if that was normal. Should I be so hungry? William thought.