He was just so scared, and he wanted to live. He didn't really know what to do most of the time, and when he thought he maybe knew, it turned out horribly wrong.He felt like he was a chicken, running around with his head cut off. (and that wasn't the best thought to have, was it? it hit too close in two ways: one, he is a chicken; and two, it wasn't headless bodies you had to worry about. bodiless heads? yeah. he'd seen enough of those.)
And the only thing that seemed worst than death right now was painful death, and the chance of being one of them.
But fuck, guilt was pretty bad, too.