Chapter Eighty one: The sound of Death
“Do you think we can make it towards the level three?” They were hiding. In a pile of dried leaves, thin branches of dried woods, and clump of soil and dirt, there, they hide, peeking at the horrible occurences in the place, trying to suppress the painful thumping of their heart, of their fears and worries. “We can do it, Joanne,” said the man, holding the hands of the woman—whose name is Joanne—and trying to answer her question in a way that his voice would not quiver, or broke, or add hopelessness in their situation. Joanne smiled, though she knew, they were losing chances, and that the possibility of them to survive is little by little, depleting as the game continues. “I am sad, Chester,” she instinctvively placed her hand on her tummy, “for our baby. If I die, she wouldn’t be
- Writer
