Post by Paul on Mar 5, 2009 7:31:54 GMT -7
That last shot rang in his ears in all the wrong ways. His hand shook violently as they crumpled to the floor, their blood spilling onto the carpet. John, Sarah, Mike, all of them now dead. Dropping his revovler and falling to his knees, Paul Whitetree stared at them in disbelief. Why? he screamed in his mind, Why did have to be this way? They had just arrived when they started to convulse, started to turn. He could still hear John begging for him to kill him before he turned into one of them. What was worse was that Paul had stared into his eyes and nearly lost his head.
Outside, dark ominous clouds hung low, threatening to rain. The pools of blood were little more than black puddles now, slowly growing in size. His hands holding his face, he cried and cursed at nothing and everything. Time seemed to be at a stand still. Suddenly, thoughts of Catherines death penetrated his mind. "STOP", he screamed out, "GO AWAY GODS DAMN YOU!". He couldn't handle it now. Why would this happen, why now of all times? Was there a GOD? Why would he let him be a tortured soul?
He glanced over at his fallen weapon. The Colt Anaconda that the old man had given to him the day before gave off a dull glow and seemed to be mocking him. He picked it up and stared at it for a minute or so. Without a second thought, he brought the barrel to his temple and cocked the hammer. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not bring himself to pull the trigger. Freedom was a split second away and yet he could not gain it. Paul stared at it bitterly and brought it down by his side. "Damn you Catherine." he muttered. Not in anger or sorrow, but of a mix. He shifted over to the corner and put his head in his arms.
Outside, dark ominous clouds hung low, threatening to rain. The pools of blood were little more than black puddles now, slowly growing in size. His hands holding his face, he cried and cursed at nothing and everything. Time seemed to be at a stand still. Suddenly, thoughts of Catherines death penetrated his mind. "STOP", he screamed out, "GO AWAY GODS DAMN YOU!". He couldn't handle it now. Why would this happen, why now of all times? Was there a GOD? Why would he let him be a tortured soul?
He glanced over at his fallen weapon. The Colt Anaconda that the old man had given to him the day before gave off a dull glow and seemed to be mocking him. He picked it up and stared at it for a minute or so. Without a second thought, he brought the barrel to his temple and cocked the hammer. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not bring himself to pull the trigger. Freedom was a split second away and yet he could not gain it. Paul stared at it bitterly and brought it down by his side. "Damn you Catherine." he muttered. Not in anger or sorrow, but of a mix. He shifted over to the corner and put his head in his arms.