Bread
We blankly stared at the boy in front of us, unmoving before I started to panic and run to him. Reaching him, I attempted to grab him and turn him over, possibly checking him for any kind of injury but I was stopped. ‘Don’t touch him.’ The man said, frowning with his blade to my throat as the other one, the one that did not reveal their face yet jumped and killed the man without breaking a sweat. Why are they not letting me touch him? Are they scared that I might contaminate the boy or something like that? There is nothing about me that would contaminate the boy. I know that much. But with the blood pooling around him … I don’t think he is alive anymore. And, if I am not wrong, the bullet went straight into his head, that means that he died immediately. No one ever survives a bulle
- Writer
