12. Grab My Boob.

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T W E L V E
Grab My Boob.

A girl's gotta go when she's gotta go. And if that's in the middle of the night, then so be it.

My movements are quiet, getting up off the pillows. I watch mainly Ellie, because as we went over earlier, Joel is pretty deaf. The second I stand up I grab my gun and stick it in my pocket, just in case. I also take my torch, for obvious reasons.

I walk toward the cleverly laid plan, walking toward the edge of the semi-circle I jump over the barrier. I can't take a piss in the same room as other people. I get stage fright.

Looking around I head down a flight of stairs, no way in Hell am I going up even one more stair. Holding my gun at the ready I enter, scanning quickly I decide it's clear and go in. My scan is brief, I barely even looked, each second my chance of pissing myself raises five percent, it's beginning to look like it's fifty-fifty.

Taking a piss in a fake plant has got to be one of the more demoralising things I've done recently, but a girl's gotta go. I didn't want to go straight on the floor, I'd rather die than do that. The backsplash would be awful.

Zipping my trousers back up I walk up the steps, hating that I'm going up and not down. The second my hand meet the door knob I feel the cool metal of a gun press into the back of my neck.

Perfect. They've found us.

Well, it's been a decent run. Not the best, definitely not the worst. My mind filters through memories defining moments in my life. Seeing my mother dead on the floor. Two weird men coming in a few hours later, a kind one and a scary one. Getting a duck toy on my birthday. Meeting Tess. Tommy leaving. Meeting Ryan. The man in the alley. The first time I killed someone. Getting shot. Ryan leaving. Fighting with Joel. Leaving Joel. Tess dying. Seeing Joel again. Learning to read way too late in life. Meeting Ellie. Travelling with Joel and Ellie. Regretting leaving Joel - regretting most things.

I was never going to live to be a grand old age, I'm too dumb for that, but I thought I'd make it a little longer than twenty.

But, I don't. And that's okay.

I should be shitting myself, you know, having a gun to the back of my head, but I'm not. I don't know what that says about me.

"Don't move," it's a man. He sounds like he's trying to be confident, not truly confident.

"I wasn't planning on it," I say back, keeping my voice quiet, getting everyone else shot isn't on my itinerary. I'll take one for the team.

"Pu- put your hands up," he stutters, he's stressed.

"First time?" I ask, a little mockingly, putting my hands up. Mocking the man is probably evidence as to why I'm not making it to twenty-one.

"No. How many people are in there?" He tries to keep his voice steady.

"Just me, I don't do well in groups," I reply.

"You're lying," he presses the gun further against my neck.

"You think I'd take a piss on my own, in the middle of the night, without someone keeping watch? That would be stupid."

"Open the door," he instructs. I go to move my hands, "Slow, move slowly." I do as I'm told, twisting the door knob I push it open. "Walk in," he tells me, I begin walking inside. He, sadly, manages to get over the glass without waking anyone up. I'm starting to think they're both deaf.

"You lied," he sounds angry. The gun presses against my neck harshly.

"I sure did, can't fault a girl for trying."

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