"...
Don't put your life in someone's hands
They're bound to steal it away
Don't hide your mistakes
'Cause they'll find you, burn you
Then he said
If you want to get out alive
oh, run for your life
...
It's hard to imagine but one day,
you'll end up like me."
~Get Out Alive, Three Days Grace
Nick placed the chips he won that night on the coffee table. He placed his keys neatly next to them as he pulled his blazer off and threw it to the leather couch nearby.
In a light haze, he wandered to the kitchen and opened several cabinets to no avail. He paced toward the fridge and opened it hastily as he reached towards what he was looking for. Sweet vodka. With no other thoughts, he downed the half empty bottle. His ex-wife has been long gone for years, and was probably dead after the apocalypse, leaving him with an empty house and an even emptier life. Everyone he met during his zombie killing spree was long gone, continuing their lives as best they could. Nick, vodka in hand, walked back to the couch. He took his gun that he had been smuggling from his parole officer out of its holster and laid it next to his keys.
Everything he thought he wanted was nothing more than living nightmares to him now. He survived the apocalypse, but to what end? The only person he ever loved was gone too. The biggest mistake of his life was letting that damn hick leave to return to what was left of his hometown. Every fiber in his body burned to ask him to stay, but the words never left Nick's mouth.
"That goofy redneck.." He managed to choke out through a slurred voice, laced with tears.
The vodka bottle in his hand was soon replaced with a warm gun.
And then there was nothing.