Get.Down.With.The.Sickness {Open}

[Rainne]

I won't always love what I'll never have
I won't always live in my regret

Tired of preaching.

Rainne was tired of preaching. Tired of speaking truths to people who needed them - tired of acting like she had answers.

She was tired of walking. She had sores on her feet, and she was tired.

Tired.

Of worrying and thinking and caring so much. This wasn't her. She was tired of getting hurt for stupid things and stupid words, and tired of letting them matter.

Tired of being tired, and of complaining, and letting it get to her so much.

So she stalked over the dead corpses and the blood stained clothes and floor only to find herself in the mist of the Movie Theater, with a not so friendly welcoming committee there to great her. The infect -- so many of them where there. And Rainne stood, a gun in her belt and a lead pipe in her hand. She was no longer here for others, but for herself -- and to beat the living shit out of the zombies that stood in her way. Rain pouring down on the roof of the Mall, Rainne walked closer, her pale hand wrapped tightly around the pole.

You'll never be a child again, a friendly voice acknowledged, detached and slow and knowledgeable - just how she remembered her aunt's voice, but her own. You're an adult now, Rainne, and you're going to have to act like one. No silly tears in rain, now, I didn't name you after such a beautiful thing for you to ruin it with such bad poetry.

and so she began her slaughter. One after another she beat them down with her pipe, one across the head, a few times in the back and spinal cord -- she could have sworn she almost hit one of the heads right off the neck, just like a Gold ball and its tee. It was so stress relieving, so vigorous to beat on someone. And her other side, well she was enjoying it all the much. The stale blood pouring onto the ground around her as she attempted to make her way into the Theater. Maybe, Rainne would catch a movie. But why would she leave this fun? The Doc wont be young forever, and she knew she would have to live up the moment.

Before she knew it, she'd be old. A ratty old hag brewing suspicious potions and calling everyone 'dearie'. Rainne imagined she'd have an apprentice, probably a tenth her age, handing her things and looking looming and sinister. She was doomed to be hunched and raggish and have a giant protruding mole on her nose.

This fate she condemned herself to, eyes snapping up from the Zombie that was falling down at her feet only to swing the pipe violently into another. Yes, it was either that or becoming a brooding philosopher, owning a book shop and drinking coffee and sitting on windowsills for the rest of her life, old and wrinkly and smelling like Bengay.

Rainne's lips wrung into a wry smile, not happy or sarcastic or dry, but simply thoughtful. She'd rather hide away at a concert somewhere, buried by the sounds of a million people, bumping forth, smelling the eternal scent of mansweat and intoxicating perfumes. She'd rather have the euphoria lift her, sightless, as humanity washed away in her mind.

As the color in the world faded to blacks and whites and grays.

Eyelids fluttered shut as blood splattered across her stained clothes. So many she had killed, and so many where still there. No matter, Rainne could to this all day. More approaching her with caution as blood dripped from the end of her pipe. They had such an sickness, and they where spreading it to everyone. then again, everyone here had sickness that just would never go away.

You'll sit alone forever
If you wait for the right time
What are you hoping for?

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