ELEUTHEROMANIA – (n) manic desire for freedom
Time seemed to dredge on forever around the chilled Hunter as sleep eluded him. It was too dangerous, but he was so very tired. If the Spitters weren't hissing madly in the background or through the walls, he would've been out a long time ago. If Arson was here...
Wyatt accepted his current predicament. He wasn't going anywhere. Not with the Spitters now sniffing around outside and the rain coming down even harder than before. He wished that the rain would stop. He wished that the sky would turn a lovely burnt orange like it always does during the dusk. He wished he could go back outside and just lay on his side in the sun.
Most of all, he wished he was free.
Free of the hurt. The pain. The constant fear. The criticizing looks from Immunes and Infected alike. He just wanted his life back before everything went to pieces. But...he didn't have a life before all of this. His parents, his "mom" and "dad"...they brought him into this world, raised him as best they could in an apocalyptic afterlife. No, he wasn't raised like he'd seen in those old movies with a family of four, a white picket fence, and these creatures called pets. He didn't have to attend school or do homework. He did have to do chores, that much had been passed down, but it was still so different.
Part of him, a rather terrifyingly large part of him, wished to be freed of the claws and just live like the Immunes. His eyes drooped down as the darkness overcame him and his sense clicked off one by one.
Just like the Immunes...