The small, shallow grave that was all that was left of his best friend and his only family rested under an abandoned and neglected bench. Some part of him hoped that, when it was all over, he could come back here. Pay his respects, visit.
So that Mister Booples wouldn't have to be alone anymore.
After he was done, he began to wander aimlessly, afraid to be caught by the infected (even though he and the rest of them were infected too), but hesitant to enter the lightless hospital. His skin had started to itch, and he was angry. Why was this happening to him - to all of them? Why hadn't anyone come to help?
Lost in thought, esooM didn't even notice as the fog rolled over the grounds and encapsulated him.
"IT'S NOT A GAME."
"Manager? What's he talking about?"
"Give up. Give up. Give up."
Voices floated softly out of the mist - some he recognized, heard over the radio. Others were new and insidious.
"T H E R E I S N O H O P E"
It was the last thing he recognized; a soft sad whisper before the deluge of noise and random, half coherent thought. It was as if he were dozens, hundreds of people at once. What little was left of himself, whoever he was, began to slip away. Time had no meaning anymore, in this strange, soft-edged world. Maybe that was it, then. Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe he wasn't real-
"PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER."
It was like looking into a mirror, only this reflection was still fully in costume. He had never realized how unnerving staring at someone wearing a moose head was. It should be strange, he reflected, talking to himself like this, face to face. But somehow it felt natural.
"Pull WHAT together?" he shouted back. "I don't even know who the ******** I am!"
"YOU ARE ME, BUT YOU ARE NOT ONLY ME. YOU WERE ALSO ONCE SOMEONE ELSE, BUT YOU ARE NO LONGER THAT PERSON. THERE IS NO POINT IN TRYING TO REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE." The figure crossed its' arms. "WHAT MATTERS IS WHO YOU ARE," it added. "BUT NOT NOW. NOW YOU MUST SURVIVE A LITTLE LONGER."
"What for?!"
But he wouldn't get an answer. Just as soon as it had started, the fog began to recede again, leaving him alone and confused in the middle of the hospital's abandoned courtyard. He felt worse now - cold chills, sweats, nausea. The virus, or whatever it was, had begun to take it's toll.
[ Infection Rate ]: 35 + 10 = 45/100
OOC
Character's name: esooM ythgiM ehT
Character's faction: Apartments
Character's journal link: Link to journals here
Character's survival stats:
The Mighty Moose View
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER esooM
HERE YOU SHOULD QUOTE ANYONE YOU ARE TALKING TO
QUOTE MORE PEOPLE IF YOU ARE TALKING OT THEM
