Unhappy

33. Milo

Milo stared at the clock. Watching the minutes go by that he was still alive. The only real things of note being the crying of a baby, the occasional person walking by and that he would sometimes twiddle his thumbs together. All of this was done because he was horrified.

One, he was scared of being caught by juvey cops. The fact that at any moment they could break in was enough to make him shiver. Two, he wasn't sure what everyone else thought about him. The fact that he shot Kingsley was a burden he was carrying. He didn't know how much he could take of that. Three... Bridge was still in the harvest camp. And he didn't know if he was going to die or not. All he knew is that something he as going to happen to his old friend.

Sure, he had met him at the harvest camp. But he was the only person who actually seemed nice. It may have been that he was the only person who talked to him, but still. He didn't have to die. He seemed like a good person.

Unlike him. He deserved to rot in the deepest darkest pits of hell. Yet he was here, sitting in a nice house, alive. Why did he escape anyway? His eyes filled with tears, as he stared at the floor.

"I'm a murderer..." he whispered. "Oh god... I've murdered four people. One of them is standing in the kitchen... alive. How is he alive? Is it to remind me of my stupid mistakes..."
"Shut up." Wendy said, glaring at him. He nearly jumped back. He didn't realize she was sitting down right next to him on the couch. She had even turned on a movie! "I'm trying to watch this." He looked over at the screen. It was an animated show. One you'd probably see little kids watching. He turned his head to look at Wendy. Her face was bright red. She probably realized that people don't normally watch these kinds of shows.
"Why are you..." he started. Suddenly, a red mark appeared on his cheek. It was very painful.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING!!!" She yelled, standing up and stomping out of the room. He stared for a couple of seconds, and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't really cared what she was watching. He was just glad she stopped him from having another panic attack.

The attacks only started after he had escaped the harvest camp. Where he'd freak out, and start mumbling to himself. Desperately trying to grasp onto the idea. Trying to justify what he had done. But... no matter how hard he tried... it was impossible to find the good in it.

He was a horrible person. That was obvious. But... did that mean he had to die? Probably.

He stood up, and walked into the kitchen. Kingsley was standing there, a calm baby in hand. He was holding a baby bottle to their mouth. Milo stared very confused.

"Are you wondering why I'm taking care of the baby." Kingsley asked, staring at him with an unimpressed look on his face. He paused, and nodded. Kingsley sighed. "Irene is really tired right now."
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Milo replied, leaning against the kitchen table. He was holding something behind his back.
"But yeah, I'm taking care of this weird baby I guess." Kingsley said. He looked over at him... to see a gun in his hand.