Alexander limped forward, his hand gripping the wound embedded in
his left side. He lead her down the halls, running past classes.
There was the faintest scream in the distance, but overall, it was
far too silent.
He maneuvered her past scorched floors where children lay, curled
up, their blackened arms wrapped around their scorched bodies.
"We're almost there," he muttered, as if to himself.
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
Suddenly, he reached forward- and pushed against a soot-stained
door. It creaked under his weight. He pushed harder. It ripped
itself right out of its frame and smashed into a
railing.
Alexander looked down. Then glanced up at her and motioned her
forward. "C'mon. We don't-" cough- "Have all day."
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
Alexander gripped onto the railing as he forced himself downward.
His knees buckled every second, and by the time he was halfway
through, his knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the
railing. He stopped, breathing hard, aware of the ash and smoke
that was circulating through the air.
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
Alexander's patience snapped. "Let's go!" He seized her by the arm
and started dragging her down the staircase, stumbling several
times. "We are going to escape, dammit-" His vision blurred and he
stumbled to the side, his hand releasing from the railing.
His eyes widened. He released her arm and caught onto a loose brick
in the wall- "Crap-"
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
Alexander regained his footing and continued stumbling down the
steps. "Hurry up!" he spat.
The bleeding had resumed in his side and was beginning to run
through his clothes. At last, the ground came into sight. He
tripped several times, his vision blurring- Blood loss?- and
then at last, reaching the wall at the bottom.
He crashed into it and pressed his body against it for several
seconds, just breathing.
His lungs hurt.
His everything hurt.
The shrapnel was still in his side.
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
Alexander didn't respond for a second. Then he laughed. Laughed
again. "I...just realized.. I don't know your name." He gave
another raspy laugh. "Oh, god that hurts."
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
"I'm not telling you my name." His nose wrinkled a bit in
amusement. "Figure it out for yourself." He laughed again and
straightened up. "S-So, we continuing on, or what?"
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature
"Not too far off, now," he replied. He got to his feet, wincing a
bit. Then he gestured for her to go forward. "I'll... direct you. I
don't imagine I can go very fast."
to be aesthetic or not to be aesthetic
that is not a question because I am not aesthetic at all and nor is
this signature