[ WP ] Everyone knows a single bite from a zombie means infection and death . Describe the harrowing moment when a biter latches its teeth on you in the middle of a fight .

This is the last thing that I will ever write. I have been bitten. I got greedy on a supply run and I was n't paying attention. In my defense, it's been ages since I had a cup of tea. 
 
 Bollocks. It was worth it. Even if it's UHT milk my last meal is a nice cup of English breakfast, steeped for three minutes, bag out, no squeezing, white and two sugars. 
 
 If anyone ever reads this then, I apologise. If you have n't checked yet, I've blown my head off with a double-barrel in the bathroom. Do n't go in there, I've got nothing on me and I've made a mess. 
 
 I hope you never get bitten, it hurts like a bitch. There's a moment, a moment where you stop and the world slows down, that yellowed teeth motherfucker will keep on going, the eyes not even seeing you, all they see is flesh. There's no hatred there, no emotion whatsoever. Just hunger. You get killed for looking like bacon. 
 
 Fuck I miss bacon and all. 
 
 That moment of frozen time stops, that fucker'll rip that bit of you off. My right wrist. Someone's leg. Hell, I bet someone got bitten on the arse. Can you imagine that? Dying from infection without being able to sit down comfortably. 
 
 I'm rambling. Probably because I'm going to finish my tea and kill myself once we're done here. So, humour me. Or wipe your arsehole with it, whatever. I am writing on toilet paper. It's all I have. Hah. Suicide notes penned in fountain pen on bog roll. Classy. 
 
 Every emotion hits you, there is n't even pain at that point. It's unbearable sadness, heart-crippling fear and grudging acceptance. Of course, there's the anger too. I got the anger. Maybe everyone gets one of those and it hits them hard. I got the rage and the wrath and the hatred all bunched up into one. So I did first thing that came to my adrenaline-drowned mind. 
 
 I bit the fucker back. 
 
 I bit that fucker back and I'm going to die being really fucking smug about it. 
 
 There's teabags in the brown box on the shelf. Help yourself. I'm out.
