The rigor mortis was already starting. His joints crackled, he lost feeling in the fingers holding fast to his gaping wound.
They left me.
They didn’t look back…
His stomach lurched and he doubled over, letting blood effuse into the muck of his vacating bowels.
Now he would die in this filth, in the dark, alone.
But I saved them.
His eyes strained to cry but no tears came.
An icy swell rushed through him.
His eyes faded, but the image of them running never left him.
A swelling rage took hold, and he began to crawl.