{ 5 May }
Dear book ,
I'm sorry I haven't written to you.
My arm was broken.
How ?
I went out to look for Mom at the mall but she wasn't there. I could not find her.
People were screaming and fighting for things. It was a mess, that's why I couldn't find her.
I went home to wait.
She didn't come back.
Father came back.
He said Mom was dead and I should be happy he was alive. His friends had died.
I wasn't happy. I missed Mom.
When I told Dad, he hit me.
When I kept quiet he hit me more.
Then a few days afterwards, he went out and did not come back.
I was happy.
Dad was the one who broke my arm.
I'll talk later.
Have to find food.
M.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Lesley tsked his tongue as he read the message. Opening his mouth , he took a bite from an apple and flipped to the next page.
He was on the bed , laying on his belly, wearing a boxer short and his dark blue shirt , the rest of his uniform was folded in the kitchen. The Crux holster lay next to him just incase of danger but he hadn't touched it for days which made it more like a trinket.
He was still trapped, having tried numerous times to escape only to be captured by the zombies. Even when he'd charged out with his Crux, cutting left and right , he'd still been overwhelmed. It was on the third day that he decided to stop attempting, his body had been running on fumes by then .
Strangely the zombies had brought food , actual food.
Lesley had been astounded when a ragged bony woman with a broken jaw came carrying a broken bowel with fresh fruit. The zombie had walked out ad left him to eat , which Lesley refused to do until his hunger drove him to it.
So now , there was a routine, a monotonous routine. Lesley slept on the bed , exercised in the morning, tried to clean the place with the little at hand , tossed out garbage from the window. Then he'd lay in the bed and read the brown book , slowly trying to immerse himself in the life of ' M '.
Whoever this person was , their life sucked. From the earliest pages , Lesley read up on a neglectful but kind mother with an abusive father ; the typical bad family cliche.
But ' M . ' was different, he didn't stew in his pity or resentment. He just carried on , ignoring the bad and just living. Although, Lesley had to admit, his emotional detachment sometimes made it seem like he was a zombie.
Not to mention he never went into detail when he wrote. It was just small and short sentences , like a poem that would not make sense. But to Lesley it felt like it did, that it could make sense .
If only he could meet him.
Lesley smiled as he thought about that , he was clearly going coco. Falling in Love with a random stranger just because of his thoughts in a book.
Lesley wished he could be doing something else but the zombies would not let him out. Not even to relieve himself and that left him with nothing but the pot and kitchen window.
Lesley was disgusted sometimes when his waste fell on a zombie that opened its mouth and started chewing his extrements with gusto.
With a frown , Lesley got up from the bed and walked into the kitchen ,to look out the window. From there he could see Deapool-HQ like a bright black and red lighthouse even if it had no light.
Lesley took a deep breath, yep he'd long since gotten over the stench of the apartment, and inhaled like he was home , with Liam, having a bottle of water after a sparing match .
It's thoughts like those that kept Lesley sane and gave him purpose. Despite his predicament, Lesley had not given up. He'd make it back to the citadel , demand his innocence to be proven and go home to Liam.
As for Rick , he could go to hell for all Lesley cared ! He opened his pupils with a sharp scowl as if the man in question was right before him . He'd shed enough tears and the only leftover emotion now was rage.
Lesley turned away from the window and went back to the brown book , he was almost halfway through it . Each entery often made him contemplate on what type of person was writing it . The person did not write daily and sometimes it was just random mentions of food eaten and things seen or done.
Lesley guessed the writer was someone weak and frail or strong but mentally subdued. After reading about the constant abuse of the Father, Lesley was not sure . He hoped it was the later because often such people would reach a breaking point and fight back .
Jumping into the bed , he had long dusted and fumigated the sheets , Lesley grabbed the book .
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
{ 12 May }
Dear book .
I killed my Father...
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Lesley was snapped out from the book when he heard a loud Boom!
Getting to his feet , he ran to the kitchen window and looked outside. A large cloud of smoke was coming from a few blocks away. The zombies hearing the sound rushed to it by instinct to kill.
But not all of them left .
A few remained , those in the corridor and those outside. When Lesley saw some zombies leave and others stay , he frowned harder than ever .
Someone or something was controlling these things and better than an upper rank zombie too.
" Hello. "
A voice said behind him and Lesley turned to see what or who had spoken to him .