



I went into the bathroom first thing in the morning, along with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a cotton swab, and a new bandage and gauze. I spotted the wound on my lower leg after stripping away the previous bandage. When I went scavenging, I almost forgot I had this. When I looked down at my wound, I noticed it was a reddish-brown hue and gently swelled up whenever I touched it. The injury was mending, but I don't want to risk it becoming infected. So, I gently cleaned it, dried it, and applied a new bandage on it.









Then I changed for the day in the new clothes that Gigi had picked out for me beforehand, and I felt terrific. My clothing wasn't grubby, ripped, or drenched in blood for the first time in months. I feel like a whole different person when I wear them. It was weird to imagine that something as fundamental as new clothing might brighten one's happiness, yet they d





The rotten strode out towards us, fighting the current at every step. It was going slowly, but with a clearly defined goal. We were probably the first-ever supper for the month, and it wasn't about to give up and abandon us. Gigi panicked and huddled behind me, expecting that I would be able to shield her. But I have no weapons and no plan other than to defend Gigi. I was the one who recommended swimming, and it's only because of my suggestion that we're in trouble right now. So I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep her safe right now.









"Gigi, go that way around the rotten and go back to the base," in an authoritative tone, I demanded.









'But-"









"No buts anymore, just leave!" I yelled as I rushed ahead, toward the rotten.









It widened its mouth and screeched once again. It gently stretched out for me once I was within grasp. This rotten was older and



"Refrain from pulling the trigger until you're ready to shoot and attack. 









That's a significant error a lot of amateurs make while learning how to use a handgun," Justine explained. He was seated on the cushion next to me, and his hands were showing me what to do. "Remove the safety and pull the trigger, once you feel ready."









I responded with a question, which elicited a peal of laughter from Justine. "How can I know whether the safety is turned on?"









Ah, this is so embarrassing.









I scowled at him, hating the fact that my cheeks were on fire with absolute shame. One person shouldn't be able to make someone feel so dumb, but Justine certainly did. Peter, on the other hand, does not laugh, which I appreciate and like about him the most. He just assisted Justine and showed me how to switch the safety on and off, as well as how to grasp the rifle properly 

I went into the bathroom first thing in the morning, along with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a cotton swab, and a new bandage and gauze. I spotted the wound on my lower leg after stripping away the previous bandage. When I went scavenging, I almost forgot I had this. When I looked down at my wound, I noticed it was a reddish-brown hue and gently swelled up whenever I touched it. The injury was mending, but I don't want to risk it becoming infected. So, I gently cleaned it, dried it, and applied a new bandage on it.









Then I changed for the day in the new clothes that Gigi had picked out for me beforehand, and I felt terrific. My clothing wasn't grubby, ripped, or drenched in blood for the first time in months. I feel like a whole different person when I wear them. It was weird to imagine that something as fundamental as new clothing might brighten one's happiness, yet they do.









Peter, Justine, Ricky, and Gigi were all seated at the tiny, rectangular dining room table w

Chapter 17