"So what was it like? Out there, for that long? Without any place to go to?"Walter could still see it, then; trembling, looking down at his bloodied hands. One moment he was sitting before the survivor, choked up and unwilling to speak of the family he had killed, and the other, sitting in front of the corpses, on the verge of vomiting at what he had done.
The guilt washed up throughout his body. He failed to swallow his doubt of deserving to make it, but even then, what did it matter now? Walter had made it, above the murders-- no, it was self-defense. They turned their weapons on him, first, that had to have meant that it hadn't been in cold-blood. Even the fucking kid, right?
"Walt, I can help you. You don't look so well... what happened out there?"Walter tried to shake his head, to deny all of the eyes that watched him, but he was frozen. A single heartbeat resounded from the vacant husk that was his body, reminding the nineteen-year old that he was still alive.
"I shouldn't have survived."
The young man woke when Ethan came with a short knock on the door to his room. Walter blinked a couple of times, half-asleep as his eyelids refused to open. Peering through the narrow slits, he sat his back up against the wall, drawing a long yawn to find that he had been drenched in sweat over the memory. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, unaware that his hands had been trembling in tension.
Walter took a moment to compose himself, deciding to take a healthy swig from his canteen before it went empty.
"Well, shit."After throwing on his shirt and setting his belt tightly against his waist, Walter shuffled down the stairs to see that the group was already beginning to assemble outside. Slapping the exhaustion from his face, he lifted his backpack from the spot at the chair, quickly checking the contents inside just in case. When all was well, he pranced outside and flanked Rowena, joining up with them quietly.