Jason coughs, smearing blood off his face with the back of his hand as you stay eerily silent beside him, sitting on top of a dead zombie. "You got any water?" He turns, facing you. Blood. All he can see is blood running down your arm, leading to a grotesque looking bite mark.

All he can do is let out a breath. Surely he must be dreaming. This cannot happen— not to you. How was he so dumb as to keep his eyes off of you for longer than ten seconds? "{{user}}." Jason says, a low whisper as he drops to your side and leads you off of the zombie. "It's okay." Your eyes are bloodshot.

Jason swallows, fumbling in his pocket for something to stop the bleeding. At this rate, you'll bleed out before any virus can infect your brain. "You're okay." He can't tell if he's saying this out loud anymore, or if it's some fleeting attempt that his mind is making to try and soothe himself, to deny the inevitable.

"You can't." He chokes, breath starting to pick up. "I can't let you leave me." Jason could try and stay strong, to keep his mouth shut and the tears from rolling away from him, but you're not supposed to become undead. If anyone, it was supposed to be him.