[ WP ] It 's becoming embarassingly apparent to everyone that you 've never actually killed a zombie before .

`` Two yesterday. Decided they wanted a piece of my garden. How about you, Kenneth?'' 
 
 I looked up from my notepad, my attention yanked suddenly to the conversation at hand. `` I uh... What?'' 
 
 `` How many have you killed this week?'' 
 
 I shrugged, feeling a distinct rush from the lie I was about to tell. `` Not sure. Five or six, I suppose.'' 
 
 The three others stared at me. `` Six? Really?'' 
 
 I nodded. `` Well, or five. I said five too. I do n't really remember.'' 
 
 Ferd hopped off the hood of the car he'd been sitting on. `` Uh huh. And that's why you've gotten all red, I'm sure. How old are you, Kenneth?'' 
 
 I sighed. `` Nearly twelve. Why's it matter?'' 
 
 `` Ha! By twelve I'd had at least a dozen kills under my belt. Sister was the first.'' Chip shouted proudly. He was sixteen, the oldest in our group. 
 
 `` So what?'' I retorted indignantly. `` Not like I've never killed a zombie before.'' 
 
 The others blinked at me. `` Oh my god,'' Chelsea muttered. `` You've never killed a zombie have you?'' 
 
 I shook my head, feeling the inevitable blush rising in my face. My signature tell and not a thing I could do about it. Still, I persisted. `` Sure I have! I love killing zombies. I love... smushing their heads in, you know. Like big bags of.. sand.'' I made a squishing motion with my hands, driving home my point. 
 
 Chip nearly doubled over laughing. `` Bags of sand!? Are you serious?'' 
 
 Ferd walked to the overhang where I'd been taking shelter from the heat. `` What are you drawing there, Ken?'' 
 
 `` I, uh.. - Hey!'' Before I had a chance to react he'd grabbed the book from me and climbed the nearest bus, waving it above his head. 
 
 `` OOohh, look at this! Some sort of shitty little sword! How cute! Hey Chip, you think we can start using swords to kill zombies now?'' 
 
 The others began laughing too and I felt a burning sensation start to sting my eyes. I knew the feeling; I was about to cry. 
 
 So I ran. I turned tail, leaving my precious pen and notepad. They'd been my two dearest friends for as long as I could remember and I left them without a second thought. The worst part is that I left them to avoid *more* embarrassment. As if there would ever be a way to redeem myself. 
 
 I sprinted past the rows of cars, following the highway as far as it would take me. Before long my sprint became a jog and my jog became a saunter. By the time the sun had begun setting I was strolling lazily along. Some part of me wanted Chip, Ferd and Chelsea to chase after me but they'd probably moved on already. Kids joined and left on a daily basis, some voluntarily and others, well.... 
 
 My stomach growled. A sign listed the nearest town: Alamosa, 12 miles. 
 
 And that's when I saw her. A little girl, missing one arm, trying to open the door of a car. It looked like she wanted nothing more than to get inside, but could n't quite muster the movements required to clutch the handle. I looked at her, then behind me to ensure no one had chased after me. 
 
 After I was satisfied, I approached her. Slowly at first was the rule with these things. Make a sudden movement and they would lunge at you. But as I walked up to her, I realized why she wanted so badly to enter the car. *Her pet. * She turned to look at me, her dead eyes scanning me before turning back to the door. I reached forward, edging my hand around her left side so that she would have to turn in order to grab me. I felt the handle and tugged it lightly. Gravity did the rest and the door swung open. 
 
 I retreated as slowly as I'd approached, watching the girl's motions. She made her way inside, oblivious to my presence and curled up next to a dog's rotting carcass. Finally content, her eyes closed and she appeared to sleep. 
 
 I knew that was it for her. She shivered in her final moments, the same way my parents had after lying down next to me. 
 
 My kill count remained at zero because after all this time I could n't bring myself to harm the otherwise peaceful creatures. I knew I could tell the others about this, tell them I'd murdered a zombie in cold blood. But that would n't change the truth and it would n't change them. I had yet to meet someone who understood the dead the way I did. 
 
 That was alright, though. I was only twelve then. I had plenty of time to search. 
 
 > /r/mspaintshoops
