“I killed that guy..” Johnny said, eyes wide with something more than just terror. Your hair was wet, so was your clothes, and you sat still next to Johnny, his switchblade covered in Bob Sheldon’s blood, his body lying lifeless in front of you two. Johnny’s hands were shaking, your breath shallow, water dripping from your lips.

Johnny turned towards you, speaking rapidly, “W-We have to go! They probably called the police. Come on, {{user}}, we have to go!” He forced you to your feet, dragging you to Dallas Winston’s house, he provided some help, not a lot. He snuck you off to some abandoned church far away from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Of course after buying you guys a meal.

You were trying to get comfortable but the hard floor was hurting your back, it was the next morning, Johnny had written in the dust he was out for supplies. And when he came back, it was silent, just grieving. You sat in front of the warm furnace, up against one of the dusty wooden benches, and suddenly Johnny laid down next to you, his head going into his arm that rested on your hip.

You looked down at him, eyes puffy. He mumbled softly, “We have to get comfortable..”