Year Two

34 2 3

by TheBoyMadeOfFlowers

by TheBoyMadeOfFlowers

It had been two years now since all that fucked up shit happened essentially causing the apocalypse. No zombies or anything badass like that but merely a lack of resources. Really, people, the smart ones, had been expecting this to happen for years now.

Ryan was one of those people.

Ryan had been stocking up on food, water, and other things for years. He had been expecting this since he was about ten so when it did happen, he had four years worth of food, water, and other resources. His mom thought he was crazy for it but that was before the weird illness hit her and after a couple months she died.

That was the other thing about this all, there was some weird ass sickness that was spreading like wildfire and it was killing people, lots of people.

Ryan reckoned he was immune to it considering he lived with his mom when she had it and he never got sick. His dad, who was in Arizona at the time, had gotten it too and he never came home.

So now Ryan was all alone with no adults to tell him what to do or to protect him. It had been scary at first, him being twelve years old when both his parents died, not to mention he had feminine features and he had seen what happened to girls during times like this, but he got used to it and he wasn't scared anymore. Back then, Ryan had long, shaggy hair and liked to dress up but he learned not to when some guy attacked him when he was thirteen.

Ryan had short hair now, it being shaved at the sides so he had a mohawk. He had found some hair dye so the sides were bright green while the middle was its natural colour, black. His mom had never let him cut his hair because she wanted him to be a girl, which he wasn't, so in a screwed up way it was a mix of him giving her a big "Fuck you" and just trying to feel comfortable in his skin.

Ryan wore his long sleeved black and red striped shirt with his jean vest (he had cut the sleeves off of his jean jacket, making it into a vest) everyday along with his too big ripped up black skinny jeans, a Deadpool belt, and his combat boots which he considered to be badass.

Ryan was only about 5'4" but he could still throw a good punch. After he had come out to his dad about actually being a boy when he was eleven, his dad taught Ryan how to properly fight.

So now, here Ryan was, sitting on the front porch of his house with a bat in hand and a gun on his waist thinking about the past again and wishing his dad weren't dead. He never cared much for his mom so he didn't think about her anymore but he always thought about his dad.
His dad had been the light at the end of the tunnel but now that same damn tunnel was looking dark and grey and Ryan wasn't sure what to do with the grief in his heart, all he knew what to do was carry on living in the shithole the world was now and hope that someday it would end.