Keep Your Children In A Coma

[almostinhuman]

((Jacob Winters continued from I've been getting really into 'hell'.))

"... I'm sorry, y'know."

Jacob couldn't forget the glassy, lifeless eyes of Greg's body. With the jacket shrouding his face, he couldn't shake the feeling Greg was staring right at him with those very same eyes.

"It should've been me. Maybe if I'd stayed with you, it would've been. And maybe if I'd bothered to learn how to fucking shoot straight before now..."

His hand tightened on the gun's grip.

"... at least then, maybe he couldn't do it again to someone else. At least then, he'd have finally paid for this shit."

Jacob glowered at the floor. Then he looked back at Greg - or 'Greg' - his expression softening again.

"And I'm sorry I have to leave now. I think I've learned as much about your gun as I'm gonna just reading about it. And I think my leg's good enough to limp on, at least."

A sad little smile played across his lips. A display for no one benefit but Jacob's, talking madly to himself as if the corpse could respond at all. As if any of what he was doing was really for Greg, and not for himself.

"I'll be back. Once I splatter that motherfucker's brains over the ground. I promise."

He hefted his bag over his shoulder, heavier with the supplies and ammo he'd pilfered from Greg's own, along with what little of Salem had been left behind. It only seemed right to bring it. Salem would want it back, after all, and Jacob would be happy to return it.

He turned towards the door, walking unsteadily out of the house, offering one last wave to the shelter and its dead occupant as he went.

"Take care, Greg."

((Jacob Winters continued in the dead include the living in their own great collective))