#survstart

      skylar and madelyn were back, which meant everything and everyone were starting to calm down. frank said for the next couple days no one should really be going out, that everyone had gone through a tough time and that meant just trying to come back down.  that was if anyone really listened to him. as it was frank didn’t see rhys out and about, which left the older man to believe he went to find where skylar went. that was to be expected, he watched those two go back and forth all the time. he heard madelyn went to go get checked out, good. walking through the province, small smile to those that passed before someone rushed into him.  “  hey, whoa. you alright?   ”

           they were back and it hadn’t been easy for madelyn or himself to get themselves out of the bind they found themselves in. two days, stuck in a hole and fighting away zombies that would walk in, falling in with them. they protected each other, finally worked together and made it. coming back into the province he soon heard people yelling that they were back. a faint smile toward madelyn and he nodded, dipping out before anyone could make a fuss over him ( even if it was certain not many people would. ) he’d drop off his weapons later, he was exhausted and went to his room, kicking the door shut. leather jacket peeled off to show bruises and cuts along his arms, but he’d be fine, he’d heal. even the bruises along his stomach from the fall, it’d all heal and he hoped madelyn was getting herself checked out. he just felt too --- soft to deal with anyone at the moment and then he heard footsteps come into the room. “  i’m fine, i’m alive. just need some rest, come back later alright?   ”   his voice was gruff but still softer than usual. he was worn down.

     too much was going on in frank’s head, the mountain of things throughout his life and recently that just played over and over in his head. the secrets, the worries --- he just needed to blow off some steam. he was where the handmade punching bags were, hands wrapped with cloth so as to not bruise his knuckles. fists landing over and over against the bag, a soft grunt after each time. when he heard someone he stopped, lifting a hand to go through his hair.  “  did you need something?   ”

     cleaning his gun, eyes glanced up at the approaching footsteps. a soft snort his attention went back to the task he was already doing.  “ shouldn’t you be doing something else besides bothering me?  ”

       nothing seemed to be working, everything he was doing to repair a gun just seemed like a dead end and it was frustrating him. hours spent to no avail and finally, he just grunted, throwing the gun against the nearest wall and watching pieces of it shatter off and across the room. a huff, he ran his hands over his face.  “  piece of shit,   ”   he muttered.