Its so surreal, the first time you kill someone. For better wording, one of [i]them[/i].

The young women couldn't help but wonder if this was all a dream. The walkers, people dropping like flies, all hell breaking loose..It seemed like a dream, a nightmare she was waiting to wake up from any moment now. No matter how harsh or terrifying it was though, or how much she prayed and cried for this to be over, Dolor had to come to terms that this wasn't something she could wake up from. Every morning felt the same; a clinging feeling in her chest, trying to keep her to whatever hard surface she slept on. A sore throat, like she was screaming through the night without realizing it, and nails, digging tightly and leaving blood, scars along her body. 

Every single morning.

Like clockwork.

Today however...Something felt off...Dolor practically gasped, her lungs filling with air in one breath. Her body lunged forward, curved, as she grabbed at her chest. Holy [i]shit[/i] that hurt, that fucking hurt like hell, and she didn't know how to fix it...How do you fix something that was broken far before things turned to shit?

Moving off the floor in the small theater, small steps led her towards a counter, turning before looking out towards the glass doors, cracked and shattered in multiple places. For now, this was a small salvation, a home...a place to rest for those who needed it. It was big enough to hold plenty of people, food was...around...Plus, with a little fix here and there, it could really turn into a shelter! As far as the culinary student was concerned, this place was large enough to become some sort of headquarters...Maybe get something goi--


Dolor froze, hearing someone, or [i]something[/i] crackling outside, moving closer...

"Fuck.." She muttered to herself, dropping to her knees and hiding as the theater doors were pushed open. 

God dammit.