Die. Rise. Repeat.

Follow the story of a survivor. no super powers, no playful furries, no teen dramas. just survival.


4. Place of rest.

Around five minutes of walking in a dazed, pain existential state, Alyx found a diner, on a corner. She had looted this place before, but she remember it had sugar and an upstairs apartment. It was all she needed.

She walked in, and heard a ding from the bell above the door. She threw caution to the wind, knowing that the once old happy couple who she guessed ran this place were both upstairs, with their skulls around 3 meters from their bodies. If any other "deads" had walked in here,the would be in sight from outside.

She quickly grabbed a bag of sugar from a cupboard in the kitchen, and poured it all over her back. This may seem like an extremely weird thing to do, but according to an old post apocalyptic book she read, it helped clean the wound and stop bleeding. She tried this trick before, and bar the stickyness of sugar mixed with blood, it seemed to work. Near enough.

Man, this shit would be hard to clean up.

After having sugar poured all over her arm, she found an old emergency medical bag with some stitching materials. She was almost in tears by how lucky she was, and began preparing to stitch. It as awkward but she could just about reach her wound. Alyx looked at the glass. It was showing about an inch, but what is it they say? "It's what's on the inside that counts.". So when she started pulling the glass, it didn't stop straight away. She was null, and couldn't feel the pain, but she knew that pulling 3 inches of glass from your second favourite arm was not good for your health. 

She prepared the stitching equipment, and started to sow the wound. Then stitch one of around four was done, still not feeling anything... then stitch two...

She started feeling woozy and...

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